When the night had come to an end, the great sage Vishvamitra, having taken leave of the two noble kings, set out for the northern mountains. With Vishvamitra’s departure, King Dasharatha, after bidding farewell to the king of Videha, swiftly began his journey back to his own city. Before Dasharatha departed, the king of Videha—lord of Mithilā—bestowed abundant bridal gifts. He gave away hundreds of thousands of cows, fine woolen blankets, silks, and millions of garments. He presented elephants, horses, chariots, and foot soldiers, all splendidly adorned and of divine appearance. A hundred maidens were also given, each attended by excellent male and female servants, along with gold, refined gold, pearls, and coral. Delighted, the king of Mithilā gave these incomparable gifts, and having fulfilled all duties, took leave of his royal guest. The lord of Mithilā returned to his own city, while Dasharatha, the ruler of Ayodhyā, set out with his noble sons. Placing the revered sages at the forefront, Dasharatha proceeded with his army, accompanied by the assembly of sages and Rāma himself. As this illustrious company traveled, ominous signs appeared: terrifying birds circled overhead, crying out from all sides, and the animals of the earth began to move in strange, circling patterns. Observing these unsettling omens, Dasharatha, the tiger among kings, turned to the sage Vasiṣṭha and asked, “These birds are grim, and the animals are circling. What is this that makes my heart tremble and my mind sink?” Vasiṣṭha replied with gentle words: “Hear the meaning of these signs. A dreadful danger has arisen, divine in origin, as foretold by the cries of the birds. Yet, see how the animals calm themselves—let distress be set aside.” Even as they spoke, a fierce wind arose, shaking the earth and causing great trees to fall. Darkness swallowed the sun, obscuring all directions. Ash covered everything, and the entire army was thrown into confusion. Only Vasiṣṭha, the other sages, the king, and his sons seemed aware and conscious, while all others were as if insensible, shrouded in that terrible darkness. Amidst this chaos, Dasharatha beheld a wondrous and fearsome figure: one resembling a mighty being, with matted locks piled high—a form radiant and unapproachable, like Kailāsa itself, fierce as the fire of time. It was Bhārgava, the son of Jamadagni, destroyer of kings, bearing an axe on his shoulder, a bow shining like clustered lightning, and a fierce arrow in his grasp, resembling Lord Śiva who destroyed Tripura. The sages, led by Vasiṣṭha, recognized this blazing figure. They gathered together, murmuring among themselves, “Is he, angered by his father’s death, about to destroy the warrior class again?” But they reassured each other, “He has already slain the warriors; his anger and fever have passed. He does not intend to destroy the warriors again.” Having thus spoken and prepared offerings, the sages approached Bhārgava with sweet words, addressing him reverently: “Rāma, Rāma!” Accepting this honor, the mighty Rāma, son of Jamadagni, turned his gaze to Rāma, son of Dasharatha, and spoke. “O Rāma, son of Dasharatha, valiant one! Your extraordinary prowess is famed throughout the world. I have heard in detail of your wondrous feat—how you broke that mighty bow. This deed, so marvelous and inconceivable, has drawn me here. I have brought with me another auspicious bow. Here is this formidable and mighty bow of Jāmadagnya—string it with an arrow and show your strength. If you can string this bow, I shall grant you a duel, for I wish to test the valor for which you are renowned.” Hearing these words, King Dasharatha became deeply troubled. His face fell, and with joined palms he pleaded, “O Bhārgava, you have renounced wrath against the warrior class and are now a great ascetic among Brāhmaṇas. Grant safety to my young sons. Born of the Bhārgava lineage, devoted to study and vows, you pledged before Indra and laid aside your weapons. Having embraced righteousness, you gave the earth to Kaśyapa and retired to dwell upon Mount Mahendra. O great sage, have you come for the destruction of us all? If Rāma alone were to fall, none of us could bear to live.” But the mighty Jāmadagnya paid no heed to Dasharatha’s words, addressing himself only to Rāma. “Here are two excellent and divine bows, honored throughout the worlds—strong, powerful, and skillfully crafted by Viśvakarman. One was given by the gods to Tryambaka (Śiva) for battle, and it is this bow, O descendant of Kakutstha, that you broke—the same bow with which Śiva destroyed Tripura. The second, unconquerable bow was given by the best of the gods to Viṣṇu; this is the Vaiṣṇava bow, O Rāma, conqueror of enemy cities. O Kakutstha, this bow is equal in essence to the Rudra bow. At that time, all the gods questioned the Grandfather (Brahmā)…” Thus, the stage was set for a meeting of two mighty Rāmas, as the assembled kings, sages, and armies watched with bated breath.