Rāma, son of Daśaratha, stood in deep reflection and humility, addressing the divine assembly. With a heart full of wonder and seeking clarity, he spoke: “I consider myself but a man, Rāma, son of Daśaratha. Whoever I truly am, whatever my nature may be, let the blessed one reveal it to me.” As Rāma uttered these words, Brahmā, the Grandsire and foremost among those who know the essence of Brahman, responded with serene authority, “Listen, Rāma, whose valor is truth itself. You are none other than Nārāyaṇa, the divine lord, radiant and glorious, wielder of the discus. You are the one-horned boar, conqueror of past and future, and vanquisher of all enemies. You are the imperishable Brahman, the eternal truth at the center and at the end of all things, O Rāghava. You embody the supreme dharma of the worlds, Viṣvaksena, four-armed and mighty. You are the wielder of the Śārṅga bow, Hṛṣīkeśa, the Supreme Person, the Unconquered, the sword-bearing Viṣṇu, Kṛṣṇa, and Bṛhadbala. You are the commander, the leader, intelligence, virtue, forbearance, self-control, the origin and dissolution of all. You are Upendra, the slayer of Madhu. You are the performer of Indra’s deeds, Mahendra, Padmanābha, the destroyer in battle. The divine sages call you the refuge and the shelter of all beings. You are the thousand-horned, the very essence of the Vedas, the hundred-headed, the great bull; truly, you are the original creator and sovereign of the three worlds. Even the Siddhas and Sādhyas depend on you for support; you are the ancient one, the sacrifice, the sacred vaṣaṭ-call, the syllable Oṃ, the supreme beyond the highest. No one knows your origin or your end, nor your true nature. You are seen in all beings, in Brāhmaṇas, in cows, in every direction, in the sky, on mountains, and in the forests. You are the illustrious one with a thousand feet, a hundred heads, a thousand eyes; you sustain all beings and the earth with its mountains. At the end of the earth, in the waters, you appear as the great serpent, upholding the three worlds, O Rāma, together with gods, Gandharvas, and Dānavas. I am your heart, O Rāma; the goddess Sarasvatī is your tongue; the gods are the hairs on your body, created by Brahmā, O Lord. When you close your eyes, it is night; when you open them, it is day. The Vedas themselves are your sacred rites—nothing exists apart from you. The entire universe is your body; the earth’s firmness is yours; fire is your wrath, the moon your favor, and the mark Śrīvatsa is your sign. With three strides, you once traversed the three worlds; having subdued the fierce Bali, you established Mahendra as king. That which is called the highest light, the highest darkness, and that which is beyond both—you are spoken of as the Supreme Self. You alone are praised as the Supreme, the one called Supreme; you are declared the highest goal in creation, sustenance, and dissolution. You are Sītā, Lakṣmī, Viṣṇu, the god Kṛṣṇa, Prajāpati; for the destruction of Rāvaṇa, you have taken on a human form here. Thus, this great task has been accomplished by you, O best upholder of dharma; Rāvaṇa is slain—rejoice, O Rāma, and ascend to heaven. Your strength and valor are unfailing, your prowess is unfailing; your vision is unfailing, O Rāma, and your praise is unfailing. Those devoted men on earth who remain steadfast in their devotion to you, the ancient Supreme Person, will surely be unfailing. Those who always recite this ancient and venerable hymn of forbearance, in this world and the next, will ever attain their desires; for them, there is no defeat.” Now begins the one hundred and eighteenth sarga in the Yuddha Kāṇḍa of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Hearing these auspicious words spoken by the Grandsire, Agni, the Fire-god, arose, carrying Vaidehī on his lap. Shaking off the funeral pyre, the Fire-god swiftly emerged in embodied form, holding Janaka’s daughter. She shone radiantly, like the rising sun, adorned with ornaments of burnished gold, clad in red garments, youthful, with dark, curly hair. Her garlands and jewels unwilted, her form flawless and without blame, the Fire-god placed Vaidehī gently on Rāma’s lap. Then Agni, the witness of the world, addressed Rāma: “Here is your Vaidehī; there is no sin in her. Neither by word, nor thought, nor understanding, nor sight did this virtuous and noble lady ever transgress you, O auspicious one. Though carried off by Rāvaṇa, that mighty and arrogant demon, separated from you, helpless and alone in the wilderness, she remained faithful. Confined within the inner chambers and guarded, her mind was ever set on you, devoted to you, though watched by fierce rākṣasīs of terrible intent. Tempted in many ways and threatened, Maithilī did not waver, her heart fixed upon you alone. Receive Maithilī, pure in heart and free from sin; let nothing more be said—I command you.” Rāma, best among speakers, his heart gladdened by these words, pondered for a moment, his eyes brimming with joy. Then, steadfast and valiant, foremost of the righteous, he spoke to the chief of the gods: “Indeed, Sītā deserved to be purified before all people, for though virtuous, she dwelt long in Rāvaṇa’s inner chambers. Alas, the world would have called me childish and ruled by desire, O son of Daśaratha, had I not tested Jānakī. Yet I know Sītā, daughter of Janaka, whose heart is undivided, who guards my mind with her own. Even this wide-eyed lady, protected by her own virtue, Rāvaṇa could not cross, just as the mighty ocean cannot overstep its shore.