Rāma, preparing for his departure, instructed that Citraratha, the charioteer and honored counselor who had faithfully served for many years, be rewarded with precious jewels, fine garments, and wealth. He ordered that herds, a thousand cows, and the many Kaṭhaka reciters and staff-bearing youths—all those dedicated to daily recitation and nothing else, who were indolent yet respected by the great—be honored as well. For these reciters, Rāma commanded that eighty vehicles filled with jewels, two hundred fine oxen, and a thousand measures of rice be given. Saumitri, his brother Lakṣmaṇa, was to provide a thousand cows for their upkeep, and for the large assembly of girdled women who had come to Kausalya, Rāma asked that each be gifted a thousand. All these offerings were to ensure that his mother Kausalya would rejoice in her giving, and that all the twice-born ones would be properly honored. Lakṣmaṇa, the best among men, carried out Rāma’s instructions faithfully, distributing wealth to the foremost Brahmins with the generosity of the god of wealth himself. After giving much, his voice choked with emotion as he addressed the dependents, ensuring each was provided for. He declared, “Let the house of Lakṣmaṇa and my own house not be empty for anyone until my return.” He comforted those dependents, who were distressed by his impending exile, and then called for his treasurer, instructing, “Bring my wealth.” The dependents brought forth a grand heap of riches, truly impressive to behold. Together with Lakṣmaṇa, Rāma distributed this wealth among Brahmins, the young and old, and those in need. Among them was a tawny-haired Brahmin of the Garga lineage named Trijaṭa, who lived by tilling the forest with his plough and spade. Trijaṭa’s young wife, bringing their children, urged him to set aside his tools and seek out Rāma, believing he might obtain something from the righteous prince. Trijaṭa, radiant as Bhrigu and Angiras, was not stopped by anyone as he made his way to the assembly’s fifth enclosure. Approaching Rāma, he humbly spoke, “Prince, mighty one, I am poor and have many children. I always live by tilling the forest; please consider me.” Rāma, with a touch of humor, replied, “Not even a single one of a thousand cows has been given by me; as much as you encircle with your staff, that much you shall receive.” Trijaṭa, eager, wrapped his cloth around his waist, drew his staff, and hurled it with all his strength. The staff soared across the Sarayu river and landed amidst a great herd of cows, near the oxen. Rāma, embracing Trijaṭa on the riverbank, led the cows toward Trijaṭa’s hermitage. Gently consoling him, Rāma said, “You should not be angry; this was only a jest of mine. Truly, this is your power, which is insurmountable. I wished to know it, and for this reason urged you. Now, choose any other boon you desire. I declare truthfully, you shall not be restrained by me. Whatever wealth of mine you wish, let it be properly given to you, so that I may gain both merit and fame.” Trijaṭa and his wife joyfully accepted the herd of cows, offering blessings in return that increased Rāma’s fame, strength, and happiness. Rāma, whose manliness was complete, distributed his righteously acquired wealth among friends, prompted by words of proper honor. Whether a twice-born friend, a servant, or a poor beggar, none were left unsatisfied; all received gifts and honors as befitted them. Now listen to the thirty-third sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Having given much wealth to the brāhmaṇas, together with Vaidehī, the two descendants of Raghu—Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa—set out with Sītā to see their father. Their weapons were carried by two attendants, and Sītā, adorned with garlands and ornaments, shone brightly beside them. As they passed, people climbed to the tops of palaces, mansions, and towers to catch sight of the illustrious Rāma. The streets were so crowded that passage was impossible; from the rooftops, the sorrowful watched Rāghava. Seeing him on foot with his brother and Sītā, the people, their hearts heavy with grief, spoke among themselves. “He whom once a mighty fourfold army followed—now only Lakṣmaṇa follows him, together with Sītā. He, who knew the pleasures of sovereignty and never spoke falsely, out of reverence for dharma. She whom even beings moving in the sky could not see before—today, the people on the royal road behold Sītā. Sītā, accustomed to fragrant ointments and red sandalwood, will soon lose her color under the heat and cold of the seasons. Surely today, King Daśaratha speaks as if possessed by some spirit; for a king should not banish his beloved son. How could there be exile even for a son lacking virtues? What then of one whose conduct alone has won over the world?” Thus, the people lamented as Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa made their way through the city, embodying righteousness and inspiring sorrow and admiration in all who beheld them.