“Listen, O fool: I am the same mighty RŒva˜a, the sport of whose arms is familiar to Mount KailŒsa (the peak sacred to Lord Ýiva) and whose valour is known to UmŒ’s Spouse (Ýiva Himself), in whose worship I offered my heads as flowers. Times without number have I removed my lotus-like heads with my own hands to worship Lord Ýiva (the Slayer of Tripura). The prowess of my arms is well-known to the guardians of the eight quarters, whose heart, you fool, still smarts under injuries inflicted by them. The toughness of my chest is familiar to the elephants supporting the eight quarters, whose fierce tusks, whenever I impetuously grappled with them, failed to make any impression on it and snapped off like radishes the moment they struck against it. Even as I walk, the earth shakes like a small boat when a mad elephant steps into it. I am the same RŒva˜a, known for his might all over the world; did you never hear of him, you lying prattler ?” (1—4)