Recognizing Rama’s purity and supreme greatness, it was as though even the sun’s rays dared not scorch his body. At all times, the gentle and pleasant winds, emerging from the forests, served Raghava, always moderate in heat and cold, attending to his comfort. At night, the cool and soothing moon embraced the sinless Rama like a loving father, dispelling all heat with its gentle touch. This was the same Rama to whom the mighty Brahma had granted divine weapons, after witnessing the lord of the Dānavas, son of Timidhvaja, slain in battle. That hero, a tiger among men, relied on his own strength and dwelled in the forest without fear, just as he would in his own home. Any enemy who ventured within range of his arrows met their destruction; how then could the earth not remain under his rule? Endowed with fortune, valor, and noble nature, Rama would, once his exile ended, swiftly regain his kingdom. As the sun is to the sun, fire to fire, and lord to lord, so was Rama supreme in splendor, glory, and forbearance. He was foremost among gods and beings; what fault could there be in him, whether in the forest or in the city? Soon, Rama, the best of men, would be united with the earth, with Sītā, and with prosperity, and be anointed with these three. Yet, as he departed, the people of Ayodhyā, struck by grief, shed tears born of sorrow. What could be unattainable for this unconquered hero, clad in bark and grass, with fortune following Sītā who accompanied him? What could be unattainable for him whose foremost skill was with the bow, who bore arrows and sword himself, and for whom Lakṣmaṇa went ahead? "You will see him again, returned from the forest," came the gentle assurance. "Abandon grief and delusion—I speak the truth to you. O blameless one, you will again see your son bowing at your feet with his head, like the risen moon. Seeing him re-enter, anointed and resplendent, you will soon shed tears of joy from your eyes. Let there be no sorrow or pain, O lady; nothing inauspicious is seen for Rama. Soon you will see your son with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa. "O sinless one, you must comfort all these people; why do you now harbor this distress in your heart? You are not worthy of sorrow, O lady, whose son is Rāghava, for there is no one greater than Rama, steadfast in the righteous path. Seeing your son, accompanied by friends, bowing in respect, you will soon shed tears of joy, like a rain cloud releasing its waters. Your son, the bestower of boons, will soon return to Ayodhyā and gently press your feet with his soft, plump hands. Seeing your heroic son, accompanied by friends, bowing and paying homage, you will sprinkle him with tears of joy, like a line of clouds upon a mountain." Thus, having spoken to Rama’s mother and comforting her with various wise and blameless words, Queen Sumitrā fell silent. Hearing these words from Lakṣmaṇa’s mother, spoken to the king’s wife, her grief vanished at once, like a rain cloud in autumn with little water. Thus ended the forty-fourth sarga of the Ayodhya Kanda in the glorious Ramayana, the first poem, composed by the sage Valmiki. Now begins the forty-fifth sarga. The people, devoted to the great-souled Rama whose valor was true, followed him as he departed for the forest. Though the king, their friend and protector, had already turned back out of duty, the people did not turn away but continued to follow Rama’s chariot. Among the men of Ayodhyā, Rama—renowned and full of virtues—was as dear as the full moon. Though entreated by the citizens at that time, Kakutstha, upholding his father’s word, set out for the forest. Looking at them with deep affection, as if drinking them in with his eyes, Rama spoke tenderly to the people, as a father to his children: “The love and great respect you bear for me—let that, for my sake, be especially shown to Bharata. He, of noble conduct and the joy of Kaikeyi, will properly do for you what is dear and beneficial. Though young in years, he is mature in wisdom, gentle, and endowed with heroic virtues; he will be a fitting lord for you, removing your fears. He is endowed with royal qualities and has been chosen as heir-apparent; and you must also, as instructed by me and the elders, obey your lord’s commands. Just as the king should not grieve when I have gone to the forest, so too, out of regard for me, you must act for his happiness.” The more King Dasaratha adhered to righteousness, the more the people longed for Rama as their lord. With eyes clouded by tears, Rama, together with Saumitri, seemed to draw the townspeople to himself by his virtues, as if they were bound to him. Then the elders among the twice-born, advanced in knowledge, age, and vigor, their heads trembling with age, spoke these words from afar: “O swift horses carrying Rama, turn back! You must not go further. It is for your own good and your master's.