Then Lakshmana, the best among men, took it upon himself to distribute the wealth as instructed—like the god of wealth himself, he gave generously to the foremost Brahmins. Afterward, his voice choked with emotion and tears, Lakshmana addressed his dependents, having already provided them with ample wealth and means for their livelihood. He assured them, “Let neither my house nor Lakshmana’s be empty for any of you until my return.” With these words, he comforted the distressed dependents, then spoke to the treasurer, “Bring forth my wealth.” Obediently, the dependents brought out his riches—a great and impressive heap. Together with Lakshmana, that tiger among men, Rama distributed the wealth to Brahmins, to the young and old, and to all those in need. Among those present was a tawny-haired Brahmin of the Garga lineage, named Trijaṭa, who sustained his family by tilling the forest with plough and spade. His young wife, gathering their children, spoke with reverence to her husband, for to a woman, her husband is as a goddess. She urged him, “Set aside your plough and spade, and do as I say. Present yourself to the righteous Rama—perhaps you will obtain something.” Radiant as Bhrigu and Angiras, Trijaṭa was not stopped by anyone as he made his way through the assembly, all the way to the fifth enclosure. Approaching Rama, he spoke humbly, “Prince, mighty one, I am poor and have many children. I always live by tilling the forest; please consider me.” Rama replied with a gentle smile and a touch of humor, “Not even a single one of a thousand cows has been given by me yet; as much as you can encircle with your staff, that much you shall receive.” Eagerly, Trijaṭa wrapped his cloth tightly around his waist, took up his staff, and with all his strength hurled it. The staff flew across the Sarayu River and landed amidst a great herd of cows, near the oxen. Embracing Trijaṭa on the riverbank, Rama, the righteous one, led those cows toward the Brahmin’s hermitage. Rama then spoke gently to the descendant of Garga, “Do not be angry; this was only a jest of mine. Truly, this is your own power, which is insurmountable. Wishing to know it, I urged you for this very reason. 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.” The great sage Trijaṭa, with his wife, joyfully accepted the herd of cows, and in return, offered blessings that increased Rama’s fame, strength, and happiness. Rama, whose manliness was complete, continued to distribute the great wealth he had righteously acquired among his friends, prompted by words of proper honor. Whether a twice-born friend, servant, or poor beggar—no one was left unsatisfied, as gifts and honors were given to all as was fitting. Now, listen to the thirty-third sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Having given much wealth to the Brahmins together with Vaidehī, the two descendants of Raghu—Rama and Lakshmana—set out with Sītā to see their father. Their weapons were carried by two attendants, and Sītā, adorned with garlands and ornaments, shone brightly by their side. As they passed through the city, people climbed onto palaces, mansions, and the tops of towers, eager to catch a glimpse of the illustrious Rama. The streets were so crowded that they could not be traversed, so from the rooftops, the sorrowful citizens watched Rāghava. Seeing him on foot with his brother and Sītā, the people, their hearts heavy with grief, spoke amongst themselves: “He, whom once a great fourfold army followed, now walks with only Lakshmana and Sītā. He, who knew the pleasures of sovereignty and was a source of joy, would never speak falsely, out of reverence for dharma. Sītā, whom even beings moving in the sky could not see before, is now visible to the people on the royal road. She, 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? Compassion, kindness, learning, good character, self-restraint, and tranquility—these six virtues adorn Rāghava, the foremost among men. Therefore, by his affliction, the people are greatly distressed, like creatures of the waters suffering in summer from the drying up of ponds. All the world is afflicted by the suffering of this lord of the world, just as a tree bearing flowers and fruit is harmed by injury to its root. He is indeed the root of mankind, the essence of righteousness, radiant in glory; the flowers, fruits, leaves, and branches are the other people. Therefore, like Lakshmana, let us quickly follow Rāghava, together with our wives and relatives, wherever he goes. Abandoning gardens, fields, and homes, united in joy and sorrow, let us follow Rama, the righteous one.