Rāvaṇa, fierce and formidable, was slain in battle along with his entire force. The monkeys and bears, together with the rākṣasas, were brought under control. Having vanquished Rāvaṇa and restored Sītā to himself, Rāghava, setting aside the anger that had burned within him, brought Sītā back to his own house. Yet, questions arose in the hearts of the people. What happiness could Rāma truly feel from being reunited with Sītā, who had once been forcibly seized by Rāvaṇa and placed upon his lap? The memory lingered: Sītā, led away to Laṅkā, entering the Aśoka grove, falling under the power of the rākṣasas. How, they wondered, does Rāma not feel shame? For the people, too, endurance with their own wives would become necessary, for as the king acts, so do the people follow. Thus, throughout the cities and the land, the city dwellers spoke many kinds of words, O king. Hearing these words, Rāghava was deeply distressed. He turned to all his friends and asked, “How do you speak to me about this?” All bowed their heads to the ground in sorrow and replied, “It is so, there is no doubt.” Hearing these words spoken by all, Kakutstha, destroyer of enemies, dismissed his friends. Thus ended the forty-third sarga in the glorious Uttarakanda of the ancient and noble Ramayana composed by the sage Valmiki. Having dismissed his circle of friends and resolved in his mind, Raghava spoke to the doorkeeper seated nearby. “Quickly bring Saumitri, Lakshmana of auspicious marks, and also the illustrious Bharata and the undefeated Shatrughna.” Hearing Rāma’s command, the doorkeeper, hands joined in reverence, went first to Lakshmana’s house and entered unimpeded. With joined palms, he respectfully addressed the great-souled one: “The king wishes to see you; please go there without delay.” Hearing Rāghava’s order, Saumitri replied, “Very well,” and, mounting his chariot, swiftly proceeded to Rāma’s residence. Seeing Lakshmana departing, the doorkeeper approached Bharata and, with joined palms, addressed him. Bowing with humility, he said, “The king wishes to see you.” Hearing Rāma’s words through the doorkeeper, Bharata, strong and swift, immediately sprang up from his seat and went on foot. Seeing Bharata departing, the doorkeeper hurried to Shatrughna’s house and spoke: “Come, O best of the Raghus, the king wishes to see you. Lakshmana has already gone, and the illustrious Bharata as well.” Hearing this, Shatrughna rose from his seat, touched the earth with his head, and went to Rāghava. The doorkeeper, arriving, reported to Rāma with joined palms that all his brothers had come. Hearing that the princes had arrived, Rāma, troubled and anxious in mind, spoke to the doorkeeper, “Quickly admit the princes to my presence; in them is my life, they are dearer to me than breath itself.” Commanded by the king, the princes, radiant as Indra, entered with joined palms, humble and composed. But seeing Rāma’s face, troubled like the moon seized by Rahu, like the sun at dusk deprived of brilliance, and seeing his wise eyes filled with tears, his face its beauty lost like a lotus, they gazed upon him. Quickly bowing with their heads at Rāma’s feet, all stood attentively. Rāma wiped away his tears, then embraced them with his arms, raised them up, and said, “Be seated.” He spoke: “You are my everything; you are my very life. It is by your actions that I rule this kingdom, O lords of men. You are accomplished in the meaning of the scriptures and established in wisdom; gathered together, you must seek out this matter for my sake, O kings.” As the descendant of Kakutstha spoke thus, all, intent and anxious at heart, wondered what the king would say. Thus ends the forty-fourth sarga in the glorious Uttarakāṇḍa of the ancient and revered Rāmāyaṇa composed by Vālmīki. As they all sat, their hearts dejected, Kakutstha spoke, his mouth parched: “Hear me, all of you—may good befall you! Do not let your minds stray, regarding the story about Sītā that circulates among the citizens. A great reproach is spoken among the townspeople and likewise in the countryside about me, a vile rumor that cuts me to the core. I was indeed born in the noble line of the great Ikṣvākus, and Sītā too was born in the honored house of the great Janakas. You know well, gentle ones, how Sītā was taken by Rāvaṇa in the lonely Daṇḍaka forest, and how I destroyed him. There, a thought arose in me concerning Janaka’s daughter: how could I bring Sītā, who had stayed there, back to the city? Then, for the sake of proof, Sītā entered the fire; in your presence, O Saumitri, the fire-god, witness of the gods, and the wind, who moves through the sky, declared the daughter of Mithilā to be pure. The moon and the sun, too, once testified before the gods and all the sages to the purity of Janaka’s daughter.