As the sage Vālmīki journeyed with his disciple, Bharadvāja, they came upon the bank of the river Tamasā. There, Vālmīki observed the ford—its waters clear and free from mud, a place delightful to the hearts of good people. He pointed it out to Bharadvāja, saying, “See, dear one, this ford is pleasing, its water pure and inviting. Let us pause here. Set down the water pot and hand me my bark garment; I wish to bathe at this excellent spot.” Bharadvāja, ever disciplined and obedient, promptly gave his teacher the bark garment. Taking it, Vālmīki, self-controlled and observant, wandered about, gazing in every direction at the vast forest surrounding them. Nearby, his attention was drawn to a pair of krauñcha birds, moving together in harmony, inseparable and singing sweet, lovely calls. Suddenly, as the sage watched, a hunter with evil intent struck—the male bird was killed, his body stained with blood and writhing on the ground. The female, witnessing her companion’s fall, cried out in deep sorrow, her lament piercing the air. Separated from her mate—whose coppery head and splendid feathers shone—the female krauñcha mourned, intoxicated with grief. Moved by compassion, the righteous sage felt his heart stirred. He thought, “This is unrighteous!” Seeing the grief-stricken bird, he spoke words that arose from his pain: “Hunter, may you never attain lasting fame, for you have killed one of the krauñcha pair, driven by lust.” As he uttered these words, Vālmīki wondered at the form of his speech, overwhelmed by the bird’s suffering. He reflected, composed his mind, and said to Bharadvāja, “This verse, bound in meter, arranged with syllables and joined with melody, has arisen from my grief. Let it remain as it is.” Bharadvāja received his teacher’s words with joy, and Vālmīki was pleased. Having performed his ablutions at that sacred spot, the sage returned, his mind dwelling upon the event he had witnessed. Bharadvāja, carrying a full water pot, followed behind his teacher. Together, they entered the hermitage. Vālmīki, versed in righteousness, sat down, engaged in other conversations, and eventually settled into meditation. At that moment, Brahmā, the creator of the worlds, radiant and four-faced, arrived to see the sage. Vālmīki rose immediately, controlled his speech, joined his palms in reverence, and stood in awe. He honored Brahmā with offerings—water for the feet, arghya, a seat, and salutations—then inquired after the god’s well-being. Brahmā, seated on the honored seat, offered a seat in turn to Vālmīki. With Brahmā’s approval, the sage sat, and the Lord of all beings was visibly present. Vālmīki’s mind remained absorbed in the event of the krauñcha’s death, pondering the cruelty of the hunter. Mourning the loss of the lovely-voiced bird, he again sang the verse, lamenting for the female krauñcha. Immersed in sorrow, Vālmīki withdrew inward, and Brahmā, smiling, addressed him: “Let this verse remain as you have composed it; there is no need for deliberation. By my will, O sage, Sarasvatī has arisen in you. Compose the entire story of Rāma, O best of sages, the righteous and wise Lord, for the world. Tell the account of the steadfast one, as you heard it from Nārada—both the secret and the open events that befell that wise man. Whatever happened to Rāma, to Saumitri, to all the rākṣasas, and to Vaidehī—whether openly or in secret—will become known to you. No falsehood will enter your speech in this poem. Compose the sacred story of Rāma, bound in verses and delightful, for as long as mountains and rivers endure upon the earth. So long as the tale of Rāma, created by you, is told, the story of the Rāmāyaṇa will circulate among people. For that duration, above and below, you will dwell among people.” Having spoken thus, the blessed Brahmā vanished, and the venerable sage, filled with wonder, departed with his disciples. His disciples, delighted and astonished, repeatedly sang the verse. Through their recitation, the sage’s sorrow was transformed into verse, arranged in four-footed meter. Vālmīki, his mind purified, resolved, “I will compose the entire Rāmāyaṇa in such verses.” With noble themes, meanings, and words, delightful to the mind, Vālmīki made the fame of Rāma shine. With hundreds of verses of equal measure, the illustrious sage composed a poem that brings glory. Carefully arranging compounds and conjunctions, constructing sweet and well-formed sentences, he composed the story of Raghu’s scion—Rāma—concerning the slaying of the ten-headed one. And thus, the sacred Rāmāyaṇa was born.