Rama, the prince, was known for his quiet and reserved demeanor. Though his appearance was composed and his counsel secret, he was always supported by loyal companions. His anger and joy were never wasted; he knew precisely when to show restraint and when to renounce. Devoted firmly, unwavering in wisdom, he never accepted falsehood and spoke with gentle words. Tireless and vigilant, Rama was keenly aware of both his own faults and those of others. He was learned in the sacred scriptures, grateful, and discerning of the nature of men. Skilled in both restraint and favor, Rama acted justly and wisely in all matters. He excelled in gathering and supporting the virtuous, assigning positions, and imposing discipline. He understood the ways of acquiring wealth, as well as the proper uses and expenditures of it. Rama had attained mastery over all branches of weaponry, both pure and composite. He upheld both wealth and righteousness, ever pursuing happiness and never succumbing to indolence. His understanding extended to the divisions of practical arts and crafts, and he was skilled in training and managing elephants and horses. Among those who knew the science of archery, Rama was foremost, esteemed as a great chariot-warrior throughout the world. He was adept in attack, combat, and the arrangement of armies. In battle, Rama was invincible—even the enraged gods and demons could not defeat him. Free from envy, he had conquered anger, and was neither arrogant nor jealous. No being could despise him, nor was he subject to the sway of time. Thus, endowed with the highest virtues, Rama, the prince and son of the king, stood apart. He was esteemed in all three worlds for his forbearance, equal to the earth itself. In wisdom, he was like Brihaspati; in strength, like Indra, the lord of Shachi. With virtues beloved by all and pleasing to his father, Rama shone forth, radiant like the sun with its rays. His conduct and prowess were unconquerable, like a lord of the world, and the earth herself wished for him as her protector. King Dasharatha, scorcher of foes, saw his son endowed with these incomparable virtues and was filled with deep thought. In his old age, after a long life, the king wondered, “How might Rama become king while I am still alive?” This supreme affection for his son constantly turned in his heart: “When shall I see my beloved son anointed as king?” For Rama desired the growth of the world and had compassion for all beings. He was dearer to the people than the king himself, like a rain-bringing cloud. In strength, Rama was equal to Yama and Indra; in wisdom, to Brihaspati; in steadfastness, to the mountain king; and in virtue, he surpassed even his father. Dasharatha thought, “If I could see my son ruling this entire earth at this age, it would be as if I attained heaven.” With these and many other rare and immeasurable virtues—difficult to find even in other princes and surpassing those of the world—Dasharatha, after consulting with his ministers, considered the installation of Rama as crown prince. Then, the wise king perceived dreadful omens of fear arising in the sky, the atmosphere, and on earth, and noticed old age in his own body. He also understood that the great-souled Rama, whose face was like the full moon and who dispelled his sorrow, was beloved by the people of the world. For the welfare of himself and his subjects, and at the proper time, that righteous king, with devotion and affection, acted swiftly. He summoned the chiefs from various cities and regions of the land. The king, adorned and resplendent, received them with appropriate honors and gifts, as the lord of creatures greets his subjects. However, in his haste, he did not summon the ruler of Kekaya or Janaka, knowing they would hear the good news later. When Dasharatha, subduer of enemy cities, had taken his seat, the remaining renowned kings entered. After the various seats had been distributed, the assembled kings, observing proper decorum, sat facing him. Surrounded by honored and disciplined kings, city-dwellers, and country folk who had taken their seats, the king shone like the thousand-eyed Lord among the immortals. Now begins the second sarga. Listen. Having summoned the entire assembly, the lord of the earth spoke these well-known words, beneficial and uplifting. Addressing the assembled rulers with a voice full of feeling, marked by royal qualities, charm, and matchless dignity, Dasharatha said: “You all know how this excellent kingdom of mine was protected by my royal ancestors, as one would protect a son. I, too, wish to dedicate this entire world—which has been well-governed by all the kings of the Ikṣvāku line—to the pursuit of the highest good and happiness. Following the path set by my predecessors, I have always protected my people to the best of my ability, ever vigilant and sleepless. While pursuing the welfare of the entire world, I have grown old under the shade of the white royal umbrella. Having lived for many thousands of years, and now that this body is worn out, I desire rest. I am weary from bearing the heavy burden of righteousness, which, though fitting for kings, is hard to sustain for those who have not mastered their senses. Therefore, I wish to rest, having installed my son for the welfare of the people, after consulting all these eminent Brahmins who are gathered here. For my son, who is superior to me in every virtue, has been born; Rama, conqueror of enemy cities, is equal to Indra in strength.” Thus, Dasharatha spoke, his heart full of love and hope for Rama, seeking to entrust the kingdom to his virtuous son for the benefit of all.