Hearing the jingle of bangles, girdle bells and anklets, Shri Rama tells Lakshmana it sounds as if Kamadeva has struck his drum to conquer the world. He turns that way, and his eyes become chakora birds fixed on the moon of Sita's face. They stop blinking, as though King Nimi, who dwells in the eyelids, had shyly left them. He praises her in his heart, though no words come. It is as if Brahma had shown all his craft in her; she makes beauty itself beautiful, a lamp burning in a house of loveliness. Every simile is already stale, says the poet. Then, weighing his own state, Shri Rama speaks to his brother.