The revered sage, steadfast in his vows, composed the entire Rāmāyaṇa—a grand poem recounting the story of Sītā and the destruction of the son of Pulastya. This remarkable work, delightful to recite and sing, was crafted with three distinct measures and seven kinds of metres, accompanied by the melodious sounds of strings and rhythmic beats. Within this poem, every human sentiment found expression: love, compassion, humor, fury, terror, heroism, and more. The verses were sung aloud by two brothers, whose mastery of music and intonation, and whose melodious voices, made them appear as if they were incarnate Gandharvas, celestial musicians themselves. Beautiful in appearance, marked with auspicious signs, and speaking with sweet voices, they seemed to be living reflections of Rāma himself. These two royal sons, having thoroughly learned the noble and righteous tale, performed the entire poem flawlessly, without error. In gatherings of sages, twice-born priests, and the virtuous, they sang with deep understanding and unwavering focus, just as they had been taught. Great-souled and supremely fortunate, adorned with all auspicious marks, they would, at times, perform among assemblies of sages whose minds were purified by austerity. Standing in the midst of such gatherings, the brothers sang the poem. The sages, upon hearing it, were moved to tears. Overcome with wonder and joy, they exclaimed, “Excellent! Excellent!” and praised the two singers, marveling at the sweetness of their voices and the beauty of the verses. Though the events described had taken place long ago, the brothers brought them to life so vividly that it seemed as if everything was unfolding before the listeners’ very eyes. Singing together with passion and accomplished melody, the brothers were lauded by the great sages, famous for their austerities. As their performance grew even more impassioned and sweet, a delighted sage standing nearby offered them a water pot. Another sage, renowned and pleased, gifted them bark garments; another gave a black antelope skin; yet another presented a sacred thread. More gifts followed: a water vessel, a girdle of muñja grass, a staff, a loincloth, an axe, ochre robes, bark garments, a matted hair band, a wooden rope, ritual vessels, a bundle of firewood, a staff of udumbara wood, and words of blessing and long life. Thus, all the truth-speaking sages offered gifts, declaring, “This wondrous tale has been proclaimed by the sage.” This poem, they said, is the supreme foundation of all poets, perfectly ordered and sung by those skilled in every song. It brings long life, generates strength, and delights all who hear it; wherever the brothers performed, they were praised. One day, as the two singers performed on the streets and royal roads, Rāma—the elder brother of Bharata—saw them and brought them to his own house. Rāma, destroyer of enemies, honored the two worthy singers; seated on a divine golden throne, he paid them homage. Surrounded by his counselors and brothers, he admired the two, noting their handsome forms and gracious manners. He said to Lakṣmaṇa, Śatrughna, and Bharata, “Let us listen to the story of these two, radiant as gods.” Encouraging the singers to perform the tale, Rāma listened as they sang with sweetness and passion, their voices resonating from the depths of their hearts. Their song, perfectly harmonized with strings and rhythm, conveyed the meaning clearly and delighted the minds and hearts of all present. Its melody shone in the assembly, pleasing every ear. “These two ascetics, marked by royal birth, are also skilled singers and accomplished in austerity,” Rāma declared. “Even I consider them wondrous. Now, let us hear the noble story of their mighty deeds.” At Rāma’s prompting, the two began to sing, following the proper method, and Rāma, seated among the assembly, gradually became absorbed in the desire to listen. Now, hear the fifth chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, within the Bāla Kāṇḍa. Long ago, all this earth belonged entirely to kings victorious in battle, beginning with Prajāpati himself. Among these mighty rulers was Sagara, who dug out the ocean and was surrounded by sixty thousand sons as he journeyed. In the line of these great-souled kings of the Ikṣvāku dynasty arose this great tale, known as the Rāmāyaṇa. Now, let us recount this entire story from the very beginning, accompanied by righteousness, desire, and wealth—a tale to be heard without envy. There was a city called Ayodhyā, famed throughout the world, built by Manu, the lord of men. This magnificent city stretched twelve yojanas in length and three in breadth, its main roads well divided and orderly. Adorned with a splendid royal road, always strewn with fresh flowers and sprinkled with water, Ayodhyā was a sight to behold. King Daśaratha, the increaser of his great realm, resided in this city just as the lord of the gods dwells in heaven. Ayodhyā was furnished with grand gates and archways, well-divided marketplaces, filled with all kinds of machines and weapons, and inhabited by skilled artisans of every kind.