After the mighty destruction of Kumbhakarna, the defeat of Meghanada, the annihilation of Ravana, and the joyous recovery of Sita in the city by the sea, there followed the consecration of Vibhishana as king of Lanka. Then came the wondrous sight of the Pushpaka chariot, which carried Rama and his companions on their journey back to Ayodhya, where they met the sage Bharadvaja. At Rama’s bidding, Hanuman, the son of the Wind-god, was sent ahead. Upon their arrival, Rama was reunited with Bharata, and soon after, the auspicious occasion of Rama’s own consecration as king was celebrated. The assembled armies were honorably dismissed, and joy filled the hearts of the people as their beloved Rama ruled. In time, Vaidehī, Sita, was sent away. All that befell Rama on earth, even those events yet to unfold, the venerable sage Valmiki composed in the later portions of his great poem. Thus concludes the fourth sarga in the Bālakāṇḍa of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. The venerable sage Valmiki wove together the entire story of Rama—now established in his kingdom—crafting it with wondrous words and profound meaning. The sage composed twenty-four thousand verses, arranged into five hundred sargas, six kāṇḍas, and a supplementary Uttara section. Having completed this monumental work, which included even those events yet to come, the wise Valmiki pondered, “Who indeed shall recite this?” It was then that he beheld the two sons of the king, Kuśa and Lava, righteous and renowned brothers, blessed with melodious voices, dwelling in the hermitage. Seeing their intelligence and their mastery of the Vedas, Valmiki taught them the poem, intending to enhance the glory of the Vedas through its recitation. The sage, steadfast in his vows, had composed the entire Rāmāyaṇa—the great story of Sita and the destruction of the son of Pulastya. Sweet to recite and to sing, the poem was furnished with three measures, seven kinds of metres, and accompanied by strings and rhythm. Filled with the sentiments of love, compassion, humor, fury, terror, heroism, and more, the poem was sung by the brothers. Kuśa and Lava, skilled in the science of music and the art of intonation and modulation, possessed voices as melodious as the Gandharvas. Endowed with beauty and auspicious marks, speaking with sweetness, they seemed like living images sprung from the very body of Rama himself. Having mastered the noble and righteous narrative, the royal sons rendered the entire poem, their recitation flawless. In gatherings of sages, twice-borns, and the virtuous, the brothers sang as instructed, knowing the very essence of the tale and focusing their minds fully. Great-souled and greatly fortunate, adorned with all auspicious marks, they sang at times among assemblies of sages of purified minds. In the midst of such an assembly, standing nearby, they sang the poem. Hearing them, the sages’ eyes brimmed with tears. “Excellent! Excellent!” the sages exclaimed, overcome with wonder and joy. They praised the two Kuśīlava singers, marveling at the sweetness of their song and the beauty of the verses. Though the events recounted had happened long ago, the brothers made them present as if before their very eyes, embodying the story so well. Together, they sang with passion and accomplished melody, earning the praise of all the great sages renowned for their austerity. As the brothers sang with growing passion and extraordinary sweetness, one delighted sage gave them a water pot, another gave bark garments, another a black antelope skin, and yet another a sacred thread. One sage gave a water vessel, another a girdle of muñja grass, another a staff, and another a loincloth. Yet another sage gave them an axe, another gave ochre robes, and another a garment of bark. One, filled with joy, gave them a matted hair band and a wooden rope; another gave ritual vessels, and yet another a bundle of firewood. One offered a staff of udumbara wood, some gave blessings, and other great sages joyfully pronounced words of long life. Thus, all the truth-speaking sages gave gifts to the brothers, saying, “This wondrous tale has been proclaimed by the sage.” This poem, the supreme foundation of poets, had been completed in proper order and was sung by those skilled in all songs. It brought long life, generated strength, and delighted all who heard it. Wherever they performed, the two singers were praised. On the streets and royal roads, Rama, the elder brother of Bharata, saw the two Kuśīlavas and brought them to his own house. Rama, destroyer of enemies, honored the two who were worthy of honor; seated on a divine golden throne, the lord paid them homage. Surrounded by his counselors and brothers, Rama beheld the two, handsome and well-mannered. Rama then said to Lakṣmaṇa, Śatrughna, and Bharata, “Let this story of these two, radiant as gods, be heard.” He encouraged the singers to perform the tale, rich in meaning and expression. The brothers sang sweetly and passionately, their voices drawn from their very hearts. Their song, perfectly harmonized with strings and rhythm, conveyed the story’s meaning clearly and delighted every limb, mind, and heart; its melody shone in the assembly, pleasing all who heard. “These two ascetics, possessing the marks of royal birth, are skilled singers and great in austerity. Even I declare them wondrous. Now, listen to the noble story of their mighty deeds,” Rama declared. Thus, prompted by Rama’s words, the two brothers began to sing, following the proper method. And Rama, seated among the assembly, gradually became absorbed in the longing to listen, as the great story of his life and deeds unfolded in song.