Hearing the king’s words, the sage’s son spoke with a heavy heart. “My life is departing, so let me say something before I go. Know that the fruits of actions ripen because of freedom in conduct and ignorance. I do not grieve for myself, but for my aged parents—who will care for them now? Both are blind, and I am their only son. Without me, how will they survive in this vast forest? Alas, how unfortunate I am! My duty to serve my parents is broken. Today, I am as good as dead. O Fate, what have you done to me? Still, go to them quickly, carrying the water-pot. Give them water, so they do not perish.” With these words, his life departed in the great forest. The prince, leaving behind his bow and arrows, took up the water-pot and hurried to where the aged parents waited. That night, the two elders spoke to each other in the darkness of the forest. “Is he anxious, or angry, or perhaps eaten by a beast? Why has our son not returned to us? What shall we do now? What hope remains?” They lamented, “There is no such son anywhere, moving or unmoving, who would disobey his parents’ words—even if reproached. Life is harder than a thunderbolt for those who, unable to see their son, do not quickly die, though their lives depend on him alone.” As the two elders spoke many such words in the forest, King Dasharatha slowly approached their place. Hearing the sound of footsteps, they guessed their son had arrived. “Child, why have you come after so long? You are our only support, our sight—why do you not speak? Are you angry, son of your blind parents?” they called out. Dasharatha, tormented by sorrow and grieving for his own misdeed, spoke fearfully to them. Hearing the king’s words, they asked, “Let us have water.” But then said, “This is not our son speaking—who are you? Tell us truly.” Dasharatha replied, “Let us drink water afterward. Your son stands there, where the water is kept.” Hearing this, the two afflicted ones said, “Speak the truth, do not deceive us.” Then the king told them everything, just as it had happened. The two aged ones fell down and cried, “Lead us there. Do not touch us—the touch of a slayer of a Brahmin is a sin that never perishes.” The best of kings, along with his wife, brought the aged Śravaṇa to the place where their son had fallen. Touching him, they both wept bitterly. The parents said, “Just as death has been ordained for us because of the loss of our son, so too, you will meet death from the loss of your son, due to your sin.” As they spoke thus, the king’s life departed. He then arranged for the cremation of the aged couple and their sage-son with fire. Afflicted with grief, King Dasharatha returned to the city and reported all of this in detail to Vasiṣṭha. For the kings of the Solar dynasty, Vasiṣṭha was the supreme refuge. Vasiṣṭha, after consulting with the foremost of the twice-born, prescribed expiation. Summoning Gālava, Vāmadeva, Jābāli, Kaśyapa, and others, he instructed them to perform the Aśvamedha sacrifice, saying, “Perform many horse sacrifices, each with abundant gifts.” King Dasharatha performed these sacrifices with the brahmins. At that moment, a bodiless voice spoke: “King Dasharatha’s body is purified, and his sons will be fit for royal duties. By the favor of the eldest son, the king will be freed from sin.” After much time, for the fulfillment of the gods’ purpose, sons resembling the gods were born from the great sage Ṛṣyaśṛṅga. Thus, Rāma was born to Kauśalyā, Lakṣmaṇa and Śatrughna to Sumitrā, and Bharata, the wisest, to Kaikeyī. All of them were intelligent, dear to the king, and obedient to his will. The sage Viśvāmitra, lord of creatures, approached King Dasharatha. Knowing the greatness of the princes, he requested Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa—both of great intelligence—for the protection of his sacrifice. The aged king, who had long awaited sons, hesitated and did not assent. “By a great conjunction of fate, in old age, these two boys were born to me, bringing a flood of joy. I will give you the kingdom with my own body, but not these two sons,” he said. Then Vasiṣṭha spoke to King Dasharatha: “O King, the Raghavas have never been taught to refuse a request.” The king somehow spoke to Rāma and also to Lakṣmaṇa. He said, “Let the sons of Viśvāmitra, the brahmarṣi, protect the sacrifice.” Thus, the story unfolds—a tale of sorrow, duty, and the fulfillment of destiny, leading to the birth of the illustrious sons and their journey into greatness.