As Sita prepared to enter the earth, the assembled multitude responded in diverse ways: some rejoiced, singing aloud in celebration; some became absorbed in deep meditation; others gazed intently at Rama, while some were utterly stunned, their eyes fixed upon Sita. The sight of Sita’s entry drew everyone together, and for that moment, the entire world seemed bewildered, caught in awe and confusion. Thus concluded the ninety-seventh chapter in the glorious Uttarakanda of the venerable Ramayana, the first epic composed by the sage Valmiki. When Vaidehi, Sita, entered the netherworld, the monkeys cried out, “Well done, well done!” and the sages, gathered in Rama’s presence, echoed their praise. Meanwhile, Rama himself sat in great sorrow, clutching his staff, his eyes clouded with tears, his head bowed, and his mind dejected. He wept for a long time, shedding many tears, and, overwhelmed by both anger and grief, spoke these words: “An unprecedented sorrow has touched my mind, for I see Sita lost before me, as if fortune itself has vanished. Once, Sita was hidden across the great ocean in Lanka, and I brought her back—how could she now vanish from the earth? O goddess Earth, let Sita return to me, or I will show you my wrath so you may understand who I am. You are my mother-in-law, for Maithili was drawn from you by Janaka, wielding the plough. Therefore, let Sita come forth, or grant me a passage so I may dwell with her in the netherworld or in heaven. Bring Sita to me, for I am devoted to Maithili; if you do not give me Sita as she was upon the earth, I will destroy all that stands upon you—mountains and forests alike. I will annihilate the earth, and let everything become water.” As Rama, descendant of Kakutstha, spoke thus, filled with anger and grief, Brahma, together with the hosts of gods, addressed him: “Rama, Rama, you should not grieve, O virtuous one. Recall your former nature and the mantra, O destroyer of enemies. Truly, O mighty-armed one, I would not remind you of this supreme truth, but for this moment, O invincible one, remember your Vaishnava birth. Sita, pure and virtuous, devoted to you from the beginning, has happily attained the realm of the nagas by the power of asceticism gained through her reliance on you. There will again be union with her in heaven, without doubt. Now listen carefully to what I say in the midst of this assembly. This is indeed the poem for you, the foremost among poems, which has been heard; Rama will explain everything in detail, without doubt. From your birth, O hero, the experience of happiness and sorrow, and whatever is yet to come here, has all been composed by Valmiki. This is the first poem, Rama, and everything in it is established upon you; no one else, apart from you, Raghava, is worthy of the glory of poems. All this has been heard by you before, together with me and the gods; it is divine, wondrous in form, truthful, and unhidden. Therefore, O tiger among men, firmly established in righteousness, listen to the remaining future portion of the poem, the Ramayana, O descendant of Kakutstha. The remaining portion of the poem is called ‘Uttara,’ O illustrious one; listen to it, O great one, together with the sages, the most excellent. Indeed, O Kakutstha, this excellent portion is not to be heard by anyone else; it is supreme, O hero, and meant only for you, O delight of the Raghu lineage.” Having spoken thus, Brahma, lord of the three worlds, departed to heaven, accompanied by the gods and his kin. The great-souled sages, both divine and worldly, having been permitted by Brahma, withdrew with their great energy, their minds intent on hearing the future Uttara portion concerning Raghava. Then Rama, having heard the auspicious words spoken by the god of gods, addressed Valmiki, radiant with supreme brilliance: “O revered one, the sages, both divine and worldly, are eager to hear the future Uttara portion; let it begin for me tomorrow.” Having thus resolved, and taking Kusa and Lava with him, Rama dismissed the crowd of people and went to the leaf-hut. As he grieved for Sita, the night passed. Thus ended the ninety-eighth chapter in the glorious Uttarakanda of the divine Ramayana, the first poem composed by Valmiki. When the night had passed and morning had come, Rama summoned the great sages and spoke to his sons, instructing them to sing without hesitation. Then, when the great-souled Brahmarshis had taken their seats, Kusa and Lava recited the future Uttara portion of the poem to the assembled world. After Sita, endowed with truthfulness, had entered the earth at the conclusion of the sacrifice, Rama was exceedingly distressed. Not seeing Vaidehi, he regarded the world as empty; overwhelmed by deep sorrow, he found no peace in his mind. He dismissed all the kings, the bears, monkeys, and demons, and the multitude of people, foremost among whom were the learned Brahmins, after giving them wealth. Thus, having completed the sacrifice according to the prescribed rites, Raghava, the lotus-eyed Rama, then dismissed them all. Holding Sita in his heart, the king entered Ayodhya, having performed the desired sacrifices, accompanied by his two sons. The descendant of Raghu did not choose any wife other than Sita; and at each sacrifice, for the sake of a wife, a golden image of Janaki was made. For ten thousand years he performed horse sacrifices, and also ten times as many Vajapeya sacrifices, as well as many with abundant gold.