Rama, the noble prince and best of men, wandered in sorrow, his heart aching like a bird or a deer thirsting for water from the lord of the gods. As he searched the beautiful mountain slopes for fruit, Lakshmana, radiant with fortune, noticed his elder brother turning away, lost in grief. Seeing Rama, noble-minded yet overwhelmed by unbearable sorrow, senseless and alone in the wilderness, Saumitri became deeply troubled and hurried to his side, speaking gently to his dejected brother. He asked, "O noble one, why do you yield to desire and let your strength falter? When shame restrains your focus, why does your discipline not restore it?" Lakshmana urged him, "Direct your effort towards action, calm your mind, seize the right moment with concentration, rely on the strength of allies, maintain unwavering courage, and remember the cause of your own duty, dear brother." He comforted Rama further, saying, "O lord of men, Janaki, protected by you, cannot be easily taken by another. No hero, worthy of the best, approaches blazing fire and remains unburned." To steadfast and invincible Lakshmana, Rama replied with words marked by character—beneficial, wholesome, grounded in policy, and imbued with righteousness and purpose. "Certainly," Rama said, "one must consider what is to be done and follow the proper course. But, prince, never doubt the fruit of great and formidable valor." Thinking of Maithili, whose eyes are like lotus petals, Rama spoke to Lakshmana, his lips parched. He reflected on the world around them, drawing parallels to his own longing. "Indra, having satisfied the earth with water, stands firm after bringing forth the crops. The clouds, with deep and resonant thunder, guided by mountains and trees, have released their waters and now rest. The clouds, dark as blue lotus petals, have made all ten directions dusky; their force spent, they are like elephants freed from rut." He continued, "The rainstorms, once swift and fragrant with kutaja and arjuna, have ceased, gentle one, after sweeping through. Lakshmana, the thunder of clouds, elephants, and peacocks, and the roar of waterfalls, has suddenly fallen silent. The mountains, their slopes washed clean by heavy rains, shine as if freshly anointed, gleaming with the rays of the moon." "Now autumn has come," Rama observed, "dividing its beauty among the branches of saptacchada trees, the radiance of stars, sun, and moon, and the playful movements of noble elephants. The beauty of fortune, adorned with the qualities of autumn, shines forth with wondrous variety, resting upon many supports, and is especially radiant in the lotus ponds awakened by the touch of the sun's rays." Swans with lovely, broad wings, dear to the god of love and dusted with lotus pollen, arrived and played with chakravāka birds on the sandbanks of the great rivers. Splendor appeared in many forms: among elephants emboldened by rut, among herds of proud cattle, and in the clear waters of flowing rivers. The sky, now free from clouds, and the forests where peacocks had shed their jeweled feathers, presented a new scene—the peahens, their beloved voices now silent and their former beauty faded, sat absorbed in meditation, abandoning their festivities. The forest groves seemed illuminated by golden-yellow, eye-delighting trees, their branches bowed under the weight of abundant blossoms, exuding charming and gentle fragrances. The best of elephants, surrounded by their beloved mates, fond of lotus ponds, intoxicated and eager for pleasure, their bodies fragrant with flowers, moved slowly through the forest. The sky was clearly bright, its color washed clean as if by weapons; the rivers flowed with scant water; cool breezes, fragrant with blue lotuses, blew; and the directions, freed from darkness, were luminous. The earth, its mud dried up by the sun's heat and its thick dust long settled, was now ready for the endeavors of kings who were mutually hostile—this was the time for their activity. Bulls, emboldened by the qualities of autumn, delighted and their bodies covered in dust, now intoxicated and eager for battle, stood among the cows and bellowed. A female elephant, filled with intense longing and deep affection, accompanied by her companions and moving slowly, followed her intoxicated mate as he walked through the forest, surrounding him on all sides. Peacocks, having left behind their splendid, self-adorned feathers and come to the riverbanks, moved on sadly and dispirited, as if scolded by the flocks of cranes. Lordly elephants, with broken tusks and mighty roars, frightened the ducks and chakravāka birds, disturbing again and again the water in the lakes adorned with blooming lotuses, and drank deeply. In the rivers, now free from mud, sandy, clear, and filled with herds of cattle, resounding with the cries of cranes and waterfowl, the swans joyfully descended. Now, the sounds of the rivers, the waterfalls, the wind, the peacocks, and the monkeys—whose festivities had ended—were surely stilled. Many-colored snakes, their bodies emaciated and hidden for long in their holes, emerged from their lairs, hungry and filled with dreadful venom, as the new clouds had disappeared. Evening, adorned with the trembling touch of moonbeams and the opening of stars in delight, departed from the sky like a beloved woman. Night, her gentle face revealed by the rising moon and her lovely eyes opened by the host of stars, shone, draped in a garment of moonlight, like a woman clothed in white. Having eaten the ripened grains of rice, the delighted line of cranes swiftly ascended into the sky, tossed by the wind, like a garland strung together. The water in the great lake, adorned with lotuses and a single sleeping swan, shone like the night sky filled with stars, with the full moon unobscured by clouds. The splendid ponds, encircled by banks crowded with swans and garlanded with blooming lotuses and water-lilies, appeared as if richly adorned, like noble women decked in ornaments. At dawn, as the wind stirred, the mingled sounds of flutes and other instruments, joined by the lowing of bulls and the bellowing of oxen, seemed to fill the air with their resonant music. The riverbanks, bright with new white kāśa grass shining like freshly washed linen, were beautified by the gentle breeze scattering the blossoming flowers of the rivers. In the forests, bees intoxicated by drinking honey and accompanied by their mates joyfully wandered, their bodies dusted with pollen from lotus seats, following the wind in their delight. The clear water, blooming with flowers, the cries of cranes, the ripened rice fields, the gentle breeze, and the pure moon—all proclaimed that the season of rains had now passed.