On the bank of the sacred Gautamī river, a momentous event unfolded. The illustrious prince Rāma, accompanied by his brother Lakṣmaṇa, had arrived there, and this arrival was not merely a journey—it was the key to deliverance for their father, King Daśaratha. It was revealed to Daśaratha that, because his sons had come to the Gautamī, he would be drawn out from the dreadful hell in which he suffered. If Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa remembered their father, performed the ritual bath, and offered piṇḍa and other rites for him at the Gautamī, Daśaratha would be freed from all his sins and ascend to heaven. With hope stirring, Daśaratha declared his intention to go to his sons and convey his plight, seeking permission from the attendants of Yama, for he considered them his only refuge. Out of compassion, the attendants granted him leave, and so the king, burdened by torment, approached his sons. His form was terrifying, shaped by his suffering; he sighed repeatedly, looked upon himself in shame, and remembered the deeds that had led him to this state. Meanwhile, Rāma, wandering as he wished, had reached the banks of the Gaṅgā. Together with Lakṣmaṇa and Sītā, the daughter of Videha, he took refuge at the Gautamī. They bathed according to the prescribed rites, but found neither food nor anything to eat on the bank. As they stayed among the dwellers of the Gautamī, Lakṣmaṇa, distressed by the lack of provisions, spoke to Rāma, saying, “We are the sons of Daśaratha, and you possess great strength, yet there is no food for us or for the dwellers on the bank of the Gaṅgā.” Rāma replied, “Brother, whatever deed is ordained cannot be otherwise. Though the earth is full of food, we are desirous of it. Surely, Saumitri, we have not offered oblations into the mouths of Brāhmaṇas; out of neglect, we have not satisfied or worshipped the deities of the earth. Those who are always hungry are born thus. After bathing and worshipping the gods, one should offer oblations into the fire; then, at the proper time, the god will provide us with food.” As the two brothers conversed, observing the course of events, King Daśaratha gradually arrived at the place. Seeing him, Lakṣmaṇa quickly cried, “Stop, stop!” and, drawing his bow in anger, declared, “You are a demon or a rakṣasa!” Again, as Daśaratha approached, Rāma said, “Go, go! Here is a righteous king, a virtuous man; observe how he stands. Where Raghava stands, devoted to his elders, steadfast in truth, serving gods and brāhmins, and skilled in protecting the three worlds, there is no entry for those like you, who perform evil deeds. If you enter, you will surely meet your death.” Hearing his sons’ words, Daśaratha slowly called out, his hands folded to Sītā and his sons, his heart heavy and downcast, pondering the fate of one who has committed evil. He spoke, “I am King Daśaratha; listen, my sons, to my words. Surrounded by three acts of brahma-hatya, I have come into suffering. Behold my body, severed and cast into hell.” Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa, filled with reverence, bowed to the earth and asked, “O father, best of kings, whose deed’s fruit is this?” Daśaratha then recounted, as it had happened, the three acts of brahma-hatya, confessing, “There is nowhere any expiation for those who slay a brāhmin, my sons.” Overwhelmed with sorrow, all went to the earth—the king, the exiled prince, the mother, and the father alike. Recalling the arrival of sorrow, the course of karma, and the fall into hell, Rāma fainted; seeing him unconscious, Sītā spoke words of wisdom: “The great-souled do not grieve at the onset of misfortune; they consider remedies, both divine and human. Even grieving for a thousand ages, calamity is never overcome; those lacking discernment here fall into confusion, never are they wise. What use is this fruitless sorrow, O lord of men? Tell us first of the murder that occurred, which was exceedingly dreadful.” She continued, “A brāhmin, devoted to his father, virtuous, accomplished in the Vedas and their branches, innocent, who was slain—what is the expiation for that sin here? I shall act according to scripture; do not grieve, you two. Let Lakṣmaṇa take the second murder, and you, the other.” Her statement, filled with righteousness, was firmly spoken. Both Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa agreed, saying, “So be it.” Then Daśaratha spoke, “You are indeed the daughter of Janaka, knowledgeable in Brahman, not born from a womb, and the wife of Rāma. What is surprising if you speak what is appropriate? No one among you has any hardship, but there is a slight effort in bathing in Gautamī, giving offerings, and performing the ritual of offering balls of food. Freed from three Brahmin-murders, I go to heaven; what you have spoken, born of Janaka, is fitting for your family. The women of noble families bring others to the far shore of the ocean of existence by the grace of the Godavari. What indeed is difficult to obtain here?” When the ritual of offering balls of food was being performed, Shatrughna noticed there was no food or provisions. He spoke to Lakṣmaṇa, who said respectfully, “There are fruits of the Ingudi tree, and their flour has been brought, almost instantly.” With this flour, Rāma prepared to offer the ball of food to his father on the banks of the Gaṅgā, but he became slow and sorrowful. At that moment, a divine voice arose, saying, “Abandon sorrow, prince! You have lost the kingdom and reached the forest; what is there for you to lack? You are not deceitful, devoted to righteousness; you should not grieve here. One who acts righteously with deceit regarding wealth is indeed sinful.” Thus, amidst sorrow and duty, guided by wisdom and divine reassurance, Rāma and his family performed the rites, fulfilling their obligations and paving the way for Daśaratha’s liberation and ascent to heaven.