As the sacred marriage rites drew to their close, the four princes—Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, Bharata, and Śatrughna—stood together with their brides, following the directions of the venerable sage Vasiṣṭha. In solemn procession, they circumambulated the blazing fire, the adorned altar, and King Janaka himself, honoring the sacred traditions. With their noble wives at their sides, the illustrious descendants of Raghu performed every ritual as prescribed, surrounded by sages whose chants filled the air with sanctity. At that auspicious moment, a wondrous shower of radiant flowers descended from the heavens, accompanied by the celestial sounds of divine drums, melodious singing, and sweetly played instruments. The very sky became a stage for the Apsaras, who danced in joy, while the Gandharvas sang in harmonious delight. All witnessed this marvel at the wedding of the foremost sons of the Raghu line—a spectacle that enchanted gods and mortals alike. As the music resounded and instruments played, the mighty princes, having circled the sacred fire three times, gently led their brides away from the altar. Thereafter, the sons of Raghu, with their wives, retired to their resting place, followed by King Janaka, the assembled sages, and gathered relatives, all watching with affection and reverence. With the passing of night, the great sage Viśvāmitra took leave of King Daśaratha and King Janaka, departing for the northern mountains, his work fulfilled. Once Viśvāmitra had gone, King Daśaratha, after bidding farewell to the king of Videha, swiftly prepared to return to his own city of Ayodhyā. King Janaka, the lord of Mithilā, bestowed abundant bridal gifts upon the departing party: hundreds of thousands of cows, fine woolen blankets, silks, and countless garments of every kind. He presented elephants, horses, chariots, and foot soldiers, all adorned and radiant in appearance. A hundred maidens were given, each accompanied by excellent male and female attendants, along with gold, refined gold, pearls, and coral—treasures beyond compare. Pleased and content, Janaka gave these gifts with a joyful heart and then returned to his city of Mithilā. King Daśaratha, with his noble sons, set forth for Ayodhyā, placing the sages at the head of the procession. The army moved in stately order, the king—a lion among men—accompanied by the assembly of sages and Rāma himself. But as they journeyed, ominous signs appeared: terrifying birds cried out from all sides, and the animals of the earth began to move in restless circles. Troubled by these portents, Daśaratha turned to Vasiṣṭha and asked, “What is this that makes my heart tremble and my mind sink? These birds are grim, and the animals are circling.” Vasiṣṭha replied in gentle tones, “Hear the meaning of these omens. A dreadful danger has arisen, signaled by the cries of the birds. Yet these circling animals are calming; let your distress be set aside.” Even as they spoke, a fierce wind arose, shaking the earth and toppling great trees. Darkness covered the sun, and the directions became indistinguishable. Ash fell everywhere, bewildering the army; only Vasiṣṭha, the other sages, the king, and his sons remained clear-minded amid the gloom, while all else seemed insensible. Out of that terrible darkness, King Daśaratha beheld a formidable figure—one with a mass of matted hair, radiating power. It was Bhārgava, the son of Jamadagni, the destroyer of kings, unassailable as Mount Kailāsa, blazing with an unbearable radiance like the fire of time itself. He carried an axe upon his shoulder, a bow that glimmered like a cluster of lightning, and a fierce arrow—resembling Śiva in his wrath when he destroyed Tripura. Seeing this mighty being, the sages led by Vasiṣṭha, devoted to sacred recitation and sacrifice, gathered together and whispered anxiously among themselves, “Will he, angered by his father’s killing, once more destroy the warrior class?” But they reassured themselves: “He has already slain the warriors; his anger and fever have passed. He does not intend to repeat that destruction.” Having thus spoken and prepared offerings, the sages approached Bhārgava, whose appearance was awe-inspiring, and addressed him with sweet words: “Rāma, Rāma!” Receiving the honor paid by the sages, the powerful Rāma, son of Jamadagni, turned to Rāma, son of Daśaratha, and spoke. “O Rāma, son of Daśaratha, valiant one, your extraordinary prowess is renowned. I have heard in detail of your wondrous and inconceivable breaking of the bow. Hearing of this deed, I have come here, bringing another auspicious bow. Here is the formidable and mighty bow of Jāmadagnya. String it with an arrow and display your strength. When I have witnessed your power in stringing even this bow, I shall grant you a duel, for I wish to test your celebrated valor.” Upon hearing these words, King Daśaratha, his face downcast and filled with anxiety, joined his palms and spoke humbly: “You, who have set aside your wrath against the warrior class and are now a great ascetic among Brāhmaṇas, ought to grant safety to my young sons. Born in the Bhārgava lineage, devoted to study and vows, you pledged before Indra and cast away your weapons. Having become devoted to righteousness, you gave the earth to Kaśyapa and, retiring to the forest, made your dwelling on Mahendra.” Thus, the scene was set for a meeting of destiny, as the two Rāmas—one the son of Jamadagni, the other of Daśaratha—stood facing each other, with the world holding its breath.