As Rāma, the noble elder brother of Bharata, moved through the bustling streets and grand royal roads of Ayodhyā, his gaze fell upon two remarkable young singers—the Kuśīlavas. Struck by their presence, he invited them graciously into his own home. There, seated upon a divine golden throne, Rāma, destroyer of enemies, honored the two youths as they deserved, paying them homage in the presence of his trusted counselors and beloved brothers. The assembly gathered around—Lakṣmaṇa, Śatrughna, Bharata, and others—each noticing the beauty and refined manners of the two brothers. Rāma turned to them and said, “Let us listen to the story sung by these two, radiant as the gods themselves.” With gentle encouragement, he invited the singers to perform their tale, a story rich in meaning and expression. The Kuśīlavas began their song, their voices sweet and passionate, drawn from the depths of their hearts. Their music flowed in perfect harmony with stringed instruments and rhythmic beats, every word clear and full of meaning. The melody delighted the minds and hearts of all present, its beauty shining throughout the assembly. Rāma himself spoke of the two ascetic youths: “Though they bear the marks of royal birth, they are also skilled singers and great in their austerities. Even I find them wondrous. Now, let us hear the noble story of their mighty deeds.” Encouraged by Rāma’s words, the brothers sang in the proper manner, and as their tale unfolded, Rāma, seated among his people, became wholly absorbed in the desire to listen. Thus began the recital of the Rāmāyaṇa, as composed by the sage Vālmīki. The story opened with the ancient kings who once ruled all the earth, their lineage beginning with Prajāpati himself. Among these mighty rulers was Sagara, famed for having dug the ocean, surrounded by his sixty thousand sons as he journeyed across the land. From this illustrious line of Ikṣvāku kings arose the great tale now to be recounted—a story of righteousness, desire, and wealth, to be heard by all without envy. The narration commenced from the very beginning. There was once a city named Ayodhyā, renowned throughout the world, built by Manu, lord of men. This splendid city stretched twelve yojanas in length and three in breadth, its main roads laid out with perfect order. The royal road was always adorned with fresh flowers and sprinkled with cool water. King Daśaratha, the increaser of his realm, dwelled in Ayodhyā as Indra dwells in heaven. The city was fortified with gates and archways, its marketplaces well-divided, brimming with machines, weapons, and skilled artisans. Charioteers and bards filled its streets, while tall mansions and fluttering banners rose above the crowds. Engines of war stood ready, and troupes of actresses and dancers thronged the gardens and mango groves encircling the city, all bordered by belts of śāla trees. Ayodhyā’s deep moats made it difficult for enemies to approach, and within its walls were horses, elephants, cattle, camels, and donkeys in abundance. Vassal kings brought their tributes, and merchants from distant lands added to the city’s splendor. Palaces adorned with jewels stood like mountains, and lofty mansions evoked Amarāvatī, the city of Indra. The city, shaped like a chessboard, was filled with noble women, rare jewels, and celestial mansions. Its abundance included rice, barley, and sweet water from sugarcane. The city resounded with the music of drums, mridangas, veenas, and panavas, its dwellings well-arranged and filled with noble men—like the celestial palace of the Siddhas attained through austerity. Warriors abounded, skilled in archery, able to strike targets near or far, even by sound alone. They were mighty enough to slay lions, tigers, and wild boars with their weapons and strength. King Daśaratha filled Ayodhyā with thousands of such great chariot-warriors. The city was further surrounded by virtuous, eminent twice-borns—masters of the six branches of the Vedas—by thousands of truth-devoted souls, and by sages and pure ascetics. In this glorious city lived a king learned in the Vedas, possessing all knowledge, farsighted and brilliant, beloved by citizens and country folk alike. Among the Ikṣvākus, he was a mighty charioteer, a sacrificer devoted to righteousness and self-control—a royal sage renowned throughout the three worlds, strong, friendly, master of his senses, and in wealth and treasures, equal to Indra and Kubera. Just as Manu, of great brilliance, protected the world, so did King Daśaratha protect his people. Through his truthfulness and dedication to the threefold aims of life—righteousness, desire, and wealth—he governed Ayodhyā as Indra rules Amarāvatī. In this foremost of cities, no one was poor; every householder was accomplished, possessing cows, horses, riches, and grain. There was neither greed nor miserliness, no cruelty, ignorance, or atheism to be found. All men and women were righteous in conduct, well-disciplined, joyful in character, and pure as great sages. Thus, in the assembly of Ayodhyā, as the song of the Kuśīlavas unfolded, the tale of the Rāmāyaṇa began—rooted in the noble city, the righteous king, and the virtuous people who dwelled there.