As the mighty army of monkeys gathered at the edge of the ocean, they stood in awe, marveling at the restless sea before them. Its vast expanse was alive with swirling waves, their roaring tumult echoing across the shore. The scene filled the hearts of the vanaras with wonder at the power and mystery of the ocean. On the northern shore, the army—well-ordered and protected under the leadership of Nila—was stationed according to the prescribed rules. Mainda and Dvivida, both renowned for their strength among the monkeys, patrolled the ranks in every direction, ensuring the safety and discipline of the gathered host. As the army settled along the bank of the mighty river, Rama stood with Lakshmana by his side. With a heavy heart, Rama gazed out over the waters and spoke to his brother. "It is said that grief diminishes with time, yet for me, as I remember my beloved Sita, my sorrow only grows with each passing day. O wind, since you touch Sita, touch me also. In you lingers the contact of her body, and in the moon I see the meeting of our eyes. This longing burns my limbs as if I had drunk poison. I still hear her cry, ‘Alas, my protector!’—those desperate words she spoke as she was carried away. "Day and night, the fire of separation, fed by anxious thoughts, consumes my body and spirit. Sometimes I think, Saumitri, I should plunge into the ocean and sleep, for even if desire blazes within me, the cool waters will soothe my burning heart. Yet, for one who longs, this pain is much to bear—but I live on, sustained by the hope that Sita and I will one day rest together upon the earth. Like a field nourished by water, I survive by the nearness of her presence, and simply by hearing that she is alive. "When, indeed, will I see Sita again—she of lovely hips and lotus-like eyes—after conquering my enemies, radiant with the joy of reunion? When will I lift her lotus-like face, adorned with charming teeth and lips, and drink in her beauty as a sick man drinks an elixir? When will her two full breasts, trembling as she embraces me, bring me true delight once more? "Surely, my dark-eyed Sita, surrounded by demons and deprived of her protector, finds no savior—just as one abandoned seeks refuge in vain. How does the daughter of King Janaka, my beloved, and the daughter-in-law of Dasharatha, sleep amidst her captors? Yet I am certain she will cast off these unyielding demons and rise again, just as the crescent moon emerges in autumn, dispelling the dark clouds. "Surely, Sita, naturally slender, has grown even thinner from grief and fasting, suffering from the change in place and time. When will I, at last, return sorrow to the heart of the king of demons by striking him with my arrows, and cast off the grief that burdens my mind? When will my virtuous Sita, like a daughter of the gods, embrace my neck in longing and shed tears of joy? When will I be suddenly freed from this terrible grief born of separation from Maithili, as one changes from dark to white clothing? As Rama lamented thus, the sun, its light fading at the close of day, sank beneath the horizon. Lakshmana gently consoled his elder brother, and together they performed the evening rites. Yet Rama’s mind remained troubled, filled with memories of Sita, whose eyes were like lotus petals. Meanwhile, across the sea in Lanka, the aftermath of Hanuman’s daring deed weighed heavily upon Ravana, the king of the rakshasas. His spirit subdued, his face lowered in shame—just as mighty Indra might bow before the great-souled Hanuman—Ravana addressed his assembled rakshasas. "Lanka, our city, famed for being unconquerable, has been violated. That single monkey has entered within our walls and seen Sita, daughter of Janaka. The palace and temple have been breached, our foremost warriors slain, and the entire city of Lanka thrown into turmoil by Hanuman’s hand. What should I do now for your welfare? What is the proper course? Let us speak together so that our actions may be wise and well-considered. "The wise declare that victory is rooted in counsel. Therefore, I favor deliberation regarding Rama, O mighty ones. A council joined by three—skilled in discerning strategy—whether among friends, relatives, or even rivals, is most effective. He who, after careful deliberation, initiates action and applies effort in matters of fate is called the best among men. One who considers a matter alone, relying only on righteousness or his own judgment, is deemed middling. But he who, without weighing merits and faults, disregards fate and neglects the task, saying ‘I will do it,’ is called the lowest of men. "Just as men are always classified as superior, inferior, and middling, so too is counsel to be understood as superior, inferior, and middling. When unity is achieved, guided by scripture and devoted counselors, that is the best counsel. When, after many opinions, a decision is reached and unity restored, that is middling. But where there is only argument and no benefit, that counsel is inferior. "Therefore, let the best of minds deliberate well. Decide together upon the proper action—this is my considered view. For Rama, surrounded by thousands of wise monkeys, is approaching Lanka, and he is a threat to us all." Thus, while Rama poured out his longing for Sita on the distant shore, Ravana in his troubled palace summoned his rakshasas to counsel, seeking wisdom in the face of the coming storm.