As Lakshmana wandered the beautiful slopes of the mountain, searching for fruit, he caught sight of his elder brother Rama, turned away and lost in sorrow. The radiant Saumitri, deeply troubled by the sight of Rama—noble-minded yet overwhelmed by unbearable grief, senseless and alone amidst the wilderness—hurried to him and spoke gently to his dejected brother. “Noble one,” Lakshmana asked, “why do you surrender to desire and accept defeat of your own strength? When shame restrains your mind, why does discipline not restore it? Direct your effort toward action, calmness of mind, the right moment guided by concentration, the strength of allies, unwavering courage, and the cause of your own duty, dear brother.” He continued, “O lord of men, Janaki, protected by you, cannot easily be taken by another. Just as none can approach blazing fire and remain unburned, so too is she safe under your care, O hero worthy of the best.” To steadfast Lakshmana, Rama replied with words marked by character—beneficial, wholesome, grounded in policy and righteousness. “Indeed, one must carefully consider what is to be done and follow the proper course of action. Yet, prince, the fruit of great and formidable valor should not be doubted.” Thinking of Maithili, whose eyes are like lotus petals, Rama spoke to Lakshmana, his lips parched. “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, prince, are at rest. Those clouds, dark as blue lotus petals, have turned all ten directions dusky; their force spent, they are like elephants freed from rut. The rainstorms, filled with water 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 arrived, 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, have arrived and play together with chakravāka birds on the sandbanks of the great rivers. Splendor now appears in many forms: among elephants emboldened by rut, among herds of proud cattle, and in the clear waters of flowing rivers. Looking at the sky, now free from clouds, and at the forests where peacocks have shed their jeweled feathers, the peahens—silent, their former beauty faded—are absorbed in meditation, abandoning their festivities. The forest groves seem illuminated by golden-yellow, eye-delighting trees, their branches bowed under the weight of abundant blossoms, exuding charming and gentle fragrances. Today, the movements of the best of elephants—surrounded by their beloved mates, fond of lotus ponds, intoxicated and eager for pleasure, their bodies fragrant with flowers—are slow in the forest. The sky is clearly bright, its color washed clean as if by weapons; the rivers flow with scant water; cool breezes, fragrant with blue lotuses, blow; and the directions, freed from darkness, are luminous. The earth, its mud dried up by the sun’s heat and its thick dust long settled, is now ready for the endeavors of kings who are mutually hostile—this is the time for their activity. The bulls, emboldened by the qualities of autumn, delighted, their bodies covered in dust, now intoxicated and eager for battle, stand among the cows and bellow. A female elephant, filled with intense longing and deep affection, accompanied by her companions and moving slowly, follows her intoxicated mate as he walks through the forest, surrounding him on all sides. The peacocks, having left behind their splendid, self-adorned feathers and come to the riverbanks, move on sadly and dispirited, as if scolded by the flocks of cranes. The lordly elephants, with broken tusks and mighty roars, frighten the ducks and chakravāka birds, and, disturbing again and again the water in the lakes adorned with blooming lotuses, drink 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 descend. Now, the sounds of the rivers, the waterfalls, the wind, the peacocks, and the monkeys—whose festivities have ended—are surely stilled. Many-colored snakes, their bodies emaciated and hidden for long in their holes, emerge from their lairs, hungry and filled with dreadful venom, as the new clouds have disappeared. Ah, the evening, adorned with the trembling touch of moonbeams and the opening of stars in delight, departs 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, shines, 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 ascends 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, shines 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, appear as if richly adorned, like noble women decked in ornaments. At dawn, as the wind stirs, the mingled sounds of flutes and other instruments, joined by the lowing of bulls and the bellowing of oxen, seem to fill the air with their resonant music. The riverbanks, bright with new white kāśa grass shining like freshly washed linen, are beautified by the gentle breeze scattering the blossoming flowers of the rivers. In the forests, the bees, intoxicated by drinking honey and accompanied by their mates, joyfully wander, 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 proclaim that the season of rains has now passed. Today, the movements of the river maidens, whose banks are revealed by the gathering of fish, are slow, like those of women in the morning after a night spent with their beloved.