Rāma, his heart heavy and his voice choked with tears, gathered his dependents around him. He bestowed generous gifts upon them, ensuring each had enough wealth and means for their livelihood. With deep concern, he instructed, “Let Lakṣmaṇa’s house and my own not stand empty for any of you until I return.” Having spoken these words to the distressed dependents, Rāma turned to the treasurer and said, “Bring my wealth.” Soon, all his dependents gathered, and the treasurer brought forth a great heap of wealth—an impressive sight. Rāma, the tiger among men, together with Lakṣmaṇa, distributed this wealth among the Brahmins, the young and old, and all those in need. Among those who approached was a tawny-haired Brahmin named Trijaṭa, descended from the Garga lineage. Trijaṭa lived by tilling the forest, always working with his plough and spade. His young wife, bringing their children, spoke to him, for a husband is revered by his wife: “Set aside the plough and spade. Do as I say—show yourself to the righteous Rāma. Perhaps you will receive something.” Radiant as Bhrigu and Angiras, Trijaṭa made his way unhindered through the enclosures of the assembly. Approaching Rāma, he spoke humbly, “Prince, mighty one, I am poor and have many children. I live by tilling the forest; please consider me.” Rāma, with a touch of humor, replied, “I have not yet given even a single one of a thousand cows. 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 flew 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, Rāma consoled him, “Do not be angry; this was only a jest. Indeed, your power 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.” Trijaṭa, joyful, accepted the herd of cows with his wife and, in return, offered blessings that increased Rāma’s fame, strength, and happiness. Rāma, whose manliness was complete, continued to distribute his wealth righteously among his friends, prompted by words of proper honor. Whether a twice-born friend, a servant, or a poor beggar—none were left unsatisfied, each receiving fitting gifts and honors. Now listen to the thirty-third sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Having given much wealth to the brāhmaṇas, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, accompanied by Sītā, set out 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 through the city, people climbed onto palaces, mansions, and the tops of towers, eager to catch sight of the illustrious Rāma. The streets were so crowded that they could not be traversed, so from the rooftops, the sorrowful watched Rāghava. Seeing him on foot with his brother and Sītā, the people, their hearts overcome by grief, spoke many words. “He whom once a great fourfold army followed—now only Lakṣmaṇa follows him, together with Sītā. He who knew the taste of sovereignty and was a great source of pleasures, would never speak 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? 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 Lakṣmaṇa, 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 Rāma, the righteous one. Let the treasures stored in the sea, the ruined courtyards, the gathered wealth and grain, all lose their value completely.” Thus, the people of Ayodhyā, overwhelmed by Rāma’s departure, longed to follow him, their hearts bound by love and reverence for the prince who embodied dharma.