As the fourteenth year of exile drew to its close, the venerable sage addressed Rāma, saying, “O Rāghava, the time has come to complete the full measure of your forest dwelling. Therefore, noble hero, perform the śrāddha ceremony for your father, King Daśaratha.” He assured Rāma that all the sages—himself, Jamadagni, Bhāradvāja, Lomaśa, Devarāta, and Śamīka—stood ready, devoted and eager to assist him. These six, foremost among the twice-born, would help him fulfill the sacred rites. “O mighty-armed one,” the sage continued, “gather all that is needed for the śrāddha. The chief offerings should be cakes made from ingudi flour, accompanied by jujube and āmalaka fruits, ripe coconuts, and many varieties of roots gathered from the forest. Also, with meat obtained along the way and assorted grains, satisfy the brāhmaṇas, O virtuous one, by giving the śrāddha.” He explained further, “Whoever, with self-restraint and a regulated diet, offers these ancestral rites upon reaching the Puṣkara forest attains the fruit of an aśvamedha sacrifice.” Then, declaring their intention to bathe at the great Puṣkara, all the sages departed together, leaving Rāma to prepare. Rāma turned to Lakṣmaṇa and instructed, “Bring me a pure-eyed deer fit for sacrifice, a hare, black greens, and honey. Also, fetch the best lemons, various roots, ripe kapittha fruits, and any other fruits you can find. Quickly bring all these for the śrāddha, O Lakṣmaṇa.” At Rāma’s command, Lakṣmaṇa set out and gathered everything required. Meanwhile, Rāma himself collected branches of jujube and ingudi trees, as well as various roots, and with these constructed a large shelter in the form of a hut. Sītā, ever devoted, cooked the food until it was perfectly done and offered it to Rāma. After bathing in the yogic pond, Rāma attended to the arriving sages. When the sun had passed its zenith and the time for the ritual meal had come, all the invited sages assembled. Upon seeing the gathered sages, Sītā, the daughter of Janaka, quietly withdrew from Rāma’s side, her eyes wide in astonishment and her heart trembling with wonder. She stood apart, overcome by shyness, and the brāhmaṇas, present for the śrāddha, did not recognize her. Rāma then fed the brāhmaṇas, observing the prescribed rites and remembering the ancestors as tradition demanded. Every Vedic ceremony was performed exactly as instructed. The ritual, as set forth in the Purāṇas and preceded by the Vaiśvadeva offering, was observed. After the brāhmaṇas had eaten, Rāma presented them with the ancestral balls in proper order. He gave gifts to the best of the brāhmaṇas as he was able, and when they had taken their leave, he turned to Sītā. “O lovely-browed one,” Rāma asked gently, “why did you disappear when the sages arrived? Tell me truthfully and without delay—what was the reason for this?” He pressed her, “Whatever the cause, let it not remain hidden from me. You are bound to me by my life and by Lakṣmaṇa’s, O pure-smiling one.” Thus addressed, Sītā stood with her face lowered in modesty, tears welling in her eyes. At last, she spoke to Rāghava: “Listen, O lord, to the wonder I witnessed here. Rāma, the king whom you revere, your father, has arrived here. Along with him I saw two others, adorned with all ornaments. Three, O descendant of Raghu, appeared among the brāhmaṇas in their forms. Father, I saw among the brāhmaṇas, and seeing him, I was overcome with shame and withdrew from your side.” “You performed the śrāddha and fed the brāhmaṇas according to the proper rites. Yet how can those clad in bark and deer skin be the leaders of kings? I am the destroyer of enemies, and this is truly spoken. The silk garments and all that Kaikeyi took are gone. From that time on, I have dwelled in the forest wearing bark. Knowing this, I have said nothing, so that you would not suffer.” “I do not remember my mother or father, O scorcher of foes; when will this exile in the forest end, O Rāghava? Thinking only of this, again and again, the days pass by, my lord—I swear by your feet.” “How could I, with my own hand, serve this food to the king—food that even the servant of servants would never partake of at any time? How could I bring myself to offer such fare to him, when once I was seen by the king adorned with every ornament? I once stood fanning the king with a yak-tail fan in my hand; how can I now, my body smeared with sweat and dirt, bear to see the lord of the earth?” “Surely, you have attained heaven, rescued by your son, after seeing me—a sorrowful, innocent girl—tormented in the forest. This king would be grieved, O Rāghava, and thus I am lost. You are as dear to me as life itself, Rāma—there is nothing I would hide from you here. By truth and by this, I touch your feet.” Hearing these heartfelt words, Rāghava was pleased with his beloved. Drawing her gently onto his lap, he embraced her with respect. Then, the heroes partook of their meal, and afterwards Jānakī also ate. Thus they spent the night there, and when the thousand-rayed sun rose, the Rāghavas set their minds on departing. They journeyed a krośa westward, as far as the elder Puṣkara, and Rāghava stayed on the eastern side of Puṣkara. There, he heard a voice spoken by a divine messenger: “O Rāghava, blessings to you! This is a most rare and holy place. Standing here, O hero, purify yourself, for you have a divine task to fulfill—divine enemies must be slain by you.