When the staff was released from his hand, it flew across the Sarayu river and landed amidst a great herd of cows, near the oxen. On the riverbank, the righteous one warmly embraced him and then led the cows toward the hermitage of the sage Trijaṭa. Rāma gently addressed the sage, a descendant of Garga, consoling him with kind words: “You should not be angry; this was only a jest of mine. Indeed, your power is insurmountable. It was to know its extent that I pressed you in this way. Now, please choose any other boon you desire. I promise you truthfully, I will not restrain you in any way. Whatever wealth of mine you wish, let it be properly given to you, so that I may gain both merit and fame.” Hearing this, the great sage Trijaṭa, together with his wife, joyfully accepted the herd of cows and, in return, offered his blessings to Rāma—blessings that increased Rāma’s fame, strength, and happiness. Rāma, whose manliness was perfect, then distributed the great wealth he had righteously acquired among his friends, prompted by words of proper honor. No one was left unsatisfied—whether a twice-born friend, a servant, or a poor beggar—all received fitting gifts and honors. Now, listen to the next chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Having given abundant 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 at their side. As they walked, people climbed the palaces, mansions, and towers to catch a glimpse of the illustrious Rāma passing by. The streets were so crowded that they could not be traversed, so from the rooftops, the sorrowful people watched Rāghava. Seeing him on foot with his brother and Sītā, their hearts were overcome by grief, and they spoke among themselves: “He whom once a mighty fourfold army followed—now only Lakṣmaṇa and Sītā walk with him. He, who knew the pleasures of sovereignty, would never speak falsely, for he reveres dharma above all. She, whom even the beings of the sky could not behold—today, the people on the royal road gaze upon 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, for a king should not banish his beloved son. How could exile befit even a son lacking virtue, let alone one whose conduct has won over the world? Compassion, kindness, learning, good character, self-restraint, and tranquility—these six virtues adorn Rāghava, the foremost among men.” Because of Rāma’s affliction, the people were deeply distressed, like creatures of the waters suffering in summer from the drying up of ponds. All the world was afflicted by the suffering of this lord, just as a tree bearing flowers and fruit is harmed when its root is injured. Rāma is the root of mankind, the essence of righteousness, radiant in glory; the flowers, fruits, leaves, and branches are the other people. “Therefore,” they said, “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, we will follow Rāma, the righteous one. Let treasures stored in the sea, ruined courtyards, gathered wealth and grain—all lose their value. Let them be covered in dust, abandoned by the gods, overrun by mice and their holes. Let them be devoid of water and smoke, unclean, with lost taxes, sacrifices, mantras, offerings, and recitations. Broken as if by a harsh season, with shattered vessels, abandoned by us—let Kaikeyī take possession of these houses. Let the forest become the city, wherever Rāghava goes; and the city abandoned by us become the forest. Let all the burrowing animals, the beasts and birds of the slopes, and even elephants and lions, flee the forests in fear of us. Let them take up what we leave behind and abandon what we inhabit—the land of grass, meat, fruit, and the wild beasts and birds. Let Kaikeyī, with her sons and relatives, take possession; we all will live happily in the forest with Rāghava.” Rāghava heard these various words spoken by many people, but his mind remained unshaken. Then that righteous one, whose stride was like an intoxicated elephant, approached his mother’s palace, shining like the peak of Mount Kailāsa. Entering the royal residence, where disciplined heroes dwelled, he saw Sumantra standing nearby, looking dejected. Though Rāma himself was not afflicted, he waited for the people there who were distressed, and with a gentle smile, he went to see his father, wishing to carry out his father’s command according to duty. But before that, the great-souled son of Ikṣvāku, about to approach the sorrowful king, paused for a moment, seeing Sumantra, who was there to announce him to his father. Out of devotion to his father’s command, having firmly resolved to enter the forest, Rāghava said to Sumantra, “Announce my arrival to the king.