Rama, seeking comfort for his family in the forest, gathered sturdy branches from jujube and ingudi trees, along with various nourishing roots. With care, he fashioned a spacious shelter, shaping it as a hut to shield them from the elements. Meanwhile, Janaki, his devoted wife, prepared their meal, cooking it thoroughly and offering it to Rama with loving hands. After bathing in the yogic pond to purify himself, Rama attended to the needs of the sages, honoring their presence. As the sun crossed its zenith and the time for ritual cooking arrived, all the sages Rama had invited assembled at their dwelling. Upon seeing these revered guests, Vaidehi, the daughter of Janaka, felt a wave of shyness wash over her. She quietly withdrew from Rama’s side, standing apart, her eyes wide with astonishment as she trembled, pondering the scene before her. The Brahmins, gathered for the śrāddha ceremony, did not recognize her. Rama, ever dutiful, fed the Brahmins according to the prescribed rites of remembrance, performing all Vedic ceremonies as instructed. He observed the ritual outlined in the Purāṇas, beginning with the Vaiśvadeva offering. Once the Brahmins had eaten, Rama gave them the ancestral balls in proper order, fulfilling every obligation. He then bestowed gifts upon the best of the Brahmins, according to his means, and after they departed, turned to his beloved wife. “O lovely-browed one,” Rama asked gently, “why did you disappear when the sages arrived? Tell me the truth and the reason for this, without delay. Whatever the reason may be, let it not be hidden from me. You are bound to me by my life and by Lakshmana’s, O pure-smiling one.” Janaki, addressed thus by her husband, stood with her face lowered in modesty, tears streaming down her cheeks as she spoke to Raghava. “Listen, O lord, to what I saw here and the wonder it was. Rama, the king whom you revere, has arrived here. Two others, adorned with all ornaments, were likewise present; three, O descendant of Raghu, embodied in the forms of Brahmins. Among the Brahmins, I saw my father, O Raghava. Seeing him, I was overcome with shame and withdrew from your side. You fed the Brahmins and performed the śrāddha according to proper rites; but how can those clad in bark and deer skin be the leaders of kings? I am the destroyer of enemies—this is truly spoken. The silk garments and those taken by Kaikeyi are gone. From that time onward, I have dwelt in the forest wearing bark. Knowing this, I say nothing, lest you suffer. I do not remember my mother or father, O scorcher of foes. When will the end of this forest exile come, O Raghava? Thinking only of this again and again, the days pass by, my lord—I swear by your feet. How shall 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 can I bring myself to offer such a thing to him, when I was once seen by the king adorned with every ornament? Once I 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 Raghava, and thus I am lost. You are as dear to me as life itself, Rama—there is nothing I would hide from you here. By truth and by this, I touch your feet.” Hearing these heartfelt words, Raghava was pleased with his beloved. He drew Janaki firmly onto his lap, embracing her with respect. The heroes then ate their meal, and afterwards Janaki also took her food. They remained there that night, and when the thousand-rayed sun rose, the Raghavas prepared to depart. Traveling a krośa westward, they reached the elder Puṣkara and Rama stayed on its eastern side. There, Rama heard a voice from a divine messenger: “O Raghava, blessings to you! This is a most rare holy place. Standing here, O hero, purify yourself; you have a divine task to perform—divine enemies must be slain by you.” Gladdened by these words, Rama spoke to Lakshmana, “O son of Sumitra, I am favored by Brahmā, the god of gods. Here, after establishing a hermitage, I wish to undertake a vow for one month, Lakshmana, for supreme purification of the body.” Lakshmana agreed, and the vow was completed with offerings such as piṇḍa and other gifts, along with śrāddha rites for the ancestors. Rama then satisfied the ancestors at Puṣkara, invoking Kanakā, Suprabhā, Nandā, and the eastern Sarasvatī. The five-streamed river at Puṣkara grants satisfaction to the ancestors, and Rama performed the daily ancestral worship as his forefathers had done. After completing these rituals, Rama spoke to Lakshmana, “Come, Lakshmana, quickly bring water from Puṣkara. After washing your feet, make your bed on the bedding. When the night has passed, we shall go to the southern direction.” But Lakshmana, bringing water for Sita, replied, “Rama, I do not serve you as a servant at all times. This wife of yours is indeed well-nourished and robust; tell me now, what will you do with her? Or will this beloved of yours follow you after death? You always protect her, and she is always well-nourished.” Thus, in the forest, Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana continued their journey, bound by duty, love, and the sacred rituals that honored both ancestors and the divine.