In the midst of his journey and trials, Rāma turned his heart in devotion to the great Lord Śaṅkara, the refuge of all beings. He remembered how, at Dakṣa’s sacrifice, Śaṅkara’s wrath had destroyed the eyes of Bhaga and Pūṣan, shattered their teeth, and even paralyzed mighty Indra’s thunderbolt-wielding hand. To that compassionate giver of refuge, Rāma sought shelter. Rāma reflected on Śaṅkara’s boundless grace: even those burdened by sin, attached to the fleeting pleasures of the senses, lacking in wisdom, noble birth, or virtue—when they turn to Śaṅkara, he grants them happiness. Such is the mercy of the Lord who never turns away a sincere seeker. He recalled too the Lord’s wondrous birth, unmatched in brilliance, shining like countless suns, a terror to gods and demons alike. Śaṅkara, who had fearlessly swallowed the blazing Kālakūṭa poison to save the worlds, stood as the ultimate protector. Rāma remembered how Maheśa bestowed boons upon Brahmā, Indra, Rudra, the Maruts, and even to Kārttikeya, his own six-faced son. When Nandi was seized by death, Śaṅkara rescued him from its jaws. Rāma’s mind turned to the sage Dhūmavrata, who worshipped Śaṅkara with intense austerity in the groves of Himavat, reaching spiritual heights none other could attain. To Bhṛgu, the great soul, Śaṅkara revealed the secret of Sanjīvanī, the elixir of life. At Dakṣa’s sacrifice, the Lord was worshipped by hosts of attendants—some with elephant, monkey, or cat-like faces—by the leaders of the Gaṇas, by spirits, and by the guardians of all worlds. Śaṅkara appeared, radiant as the conch, the moon, and jasmine, astride the mighty bull, accompanied by the daughters of the mountain king, moving through the heavens adorned with storm clouds. He protected the peaceful sage, devoted to restraint and discipline, when fierce men sought to drag him away, moved by the sage’s humble praise and devotion. Rāma recalled how Śaṅkara, with the nail of his lotus-like finger, had cut off the fifth head of Brahmā, shining like a young lotus, before the assembly of gods. At his feet, when bowed to with pure devotion and praised with sincere words, even the radiant sun dispels darkness with his rays. Yet, Rāma knew, those who fail to recognize Śaṅkara as the supreme teacher of gods, the lord of all that moves and does not move, are bound by pride and false doctrines, and thus fall into suffering. As Rāma praised Śaṅkara thus, the trident-bearing, bull-bannered Lord appeared before him, joyful and pleased. Śaṅkara spoke to Rāma: “O Rāma, I am pleased with you; may all good befall you. Born in a pure lineage, you are worthy of the world’s worship—a god in human form. Because you are the protector of the gods, they will enjoy happiness for many ages, and after fourteen years, they will be served for a long time. Those who see you upon your return to Ayodhyā will find happiness in this world and dwell eternally in heaven. When you have accomplished the great task of the gods, you will return to your city.” Having received these blessings, Rāma bowed to Śaṅkara and quickly departed. He reached the river along Indra’s path and, binding up his matted hair, said to Lakṣmaṇa, “Give me my bow.” Hearing this, Lakṣmaṇa’s heart filled with distress. He turned to Sītā and lamented, “Why has Rāma, without cause, abandoned me? What offense have I committed that the great-armed Rāma, in anger, has turned away from me? Surely, I shall give up my life. I am a disgrace to my lineage, for I have aroused his anger by some evil deed. Where shall I go, condemned by the great-souled one?” With both hands on his face, his throat choked with tears, Lakṣmaṇa declared, “I have not wronged Rāma in deed, thought, or word. O Devi, I touch your feet—there is no other refuge for me.” Moved by his sorrow, Sītā spoke to Rāma: “Why have you abandoned your younger brother? Let this unfairness be set aside, O child, for Lakṣmaṇa, who increases our fortune.” Rāghava replied gently, “I will not abandon Lakṣmaṇa—not even in a dream would I disregard his counsel, dearest. But I have heard of the conduct in this land; here, all people are intent only upon their own interests. They do not see one another, nor heed words for their own benefit; sons do not listen to fathers, nor fathers to sons. Disciples ignore their teachers, and teachers their disciples; affection is tied only to gain, and no one is truly dear to anyone.” Thus speaking, Rāma, together with Lakṣmaṇa and Sītā, reached the great river Reva. There, Kakutstha performed the sacred ablution. He offered water to his ancestors and to the deities, gazing repeatedly at the sun, his mind concentrated on the gods. Having completed the ritual, Rāma shone forth, Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa by his side. Along with the daughter of the mountain and Guha, the blessed one entered his dwelling. At this point, Bhīṣma, filled with curiosity, asked, “At what time did the blessed Brahmā, the creator of worlds, begin to perform sacrifices? What were the names of the priests appointed by Brahmā, and what gifts did he bestow upon them? Tell me exactly as it happened, for I long to know of the ancestral sacrifice.” Pulastya replied, “I have already told you how, when Svāyambhuva Manu had created all the progenitors, he was told to create the world. Manu himself went to Puṣkara, gathered the materials for sacrifice, and, assembling all the necessary items, stood in the fire chamber. The Gandharvas sang, the Apsaras danced, and the four principal priests—the Brahma-udgātā, hotṛ, and adhvaryu—carried out the sacrifice. For each, three attendants were self-appointed: the Brahma, Brahmanācchaṃsī, potā, and agnīdhra as well. There were fourfold aspects: Ānvīkṣikī, all knowledge, and Brāhmī. For the udgātā, there were the pratyudgātā, pratihartā, and subrahmaṇya. This second group of four supported the udgātṛ. For the hotṛ, there were the maitrāvaruṇa and acchāvāka, and the grāvastut made the fourth in this third group. For the adhvaryu, there were the pratiṣṭhātṛ, neṣṭṛ, and unnetṛ. Thus, the divine order of sacrifice was established in the beginning, as it truly was.