Despite the earnest pleas of the citizens of Ayodhya, Rama, the noble Kakutstha, remained steadfast in his father’s truth and set out for the forest. As he departed, Rama gazed upon the people with deep affection, as though he were drinking them in with his eyes, and spoke to them gently, his words carrying the warmth of a father speaking to his own children. He urged the people, “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 possesses royal qualities and has been chosen as heir-apparent; so, as instructed by me and the elders, you must 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 Bharata’s happiness.” Yet, the more King Dasaratha upheld righteousness, the more the people longed for Rama as their lord. Tears clouded their eyes as they watched Rama, accompanied by Saumitri, whose virtues seemed to bind the townspeople to him. Among them, the elders of the twice-born, advanced in knowledge, age, and vigor, their heads trembling with age, called out from afar, “O swift horses carrying Rama, turn back! You must not go further. It is for your own good and your master’s. All creatures, especially horses, are attentive to speech; having heard our request, you must turn back. For your lord, pure in spirit, righteous, heroic, and firm in his noble vow, should be brought back to the city by you, not carried away to the forest.” Witnessing the elders’ distress and hearing their anguished words, Rama suddenly descended from the chariot. With Sita and Lakshmana beside him, he proceeded on foot, his steps close together, intent on the forest. Compassion would not allow him to leave the Brahmins behind by chariot. Seeing Rama depart, the Brahmins—troubled in mind and deeply afflicted—addressed him: “All Brahminhood follows you, for you are devoted to Brahmins; even these sacred fires, borne on our shoulders, accompany you. See these umbrellas from Vājapeya sacrifices, following behind like clouds after the rains. For you, scorched by the sun and lacking umbrella, we will provide shade with our own Vājapeya umbrellas. The resolve that always guided us according to Vedic mantras, for your sake, now follows you into the forest, dear one. The Vedas, which dwell in our hearts and are our greatest wealth, will remain in our homes, as will our wives, protected by virtue. There is no need for further deliberation regarding your departure; when you are devoted to righteousness, what remains for us who stand on the path of dharma? We beseech you to return, our heads bowed, hair white as swans, our conduct humble and dusted by the earth. Many sacrifices performed by Brahmins here await completion; their fulfillment depends, dear one, on your return. All beings here, both moving and unmoving, are devoted; when they beseech you, show devotion to the devoted. Unable to follow you, their roots torn and driven by the wind, the trees seem to cry out as they are lifted by the breeze. Birds, motionless in food and movement, fixed in their trees, also beseech you, the compassionate to all beings.” As the Brahmins cried out for Rama’s return, darkness seemed to descend, blocking Raghava’s path. Sumantra, seeing this, released the weary horses from the chariot, turned them quickly, and led them—bodies soaked with water—near the darkness. As the journey continued, Rama, having settled on the pleasant bank of the Tamasā River, looked at Sita and spoke to Saumitri, “This is our first night, Saumitri, sent into the forest. May your forest dwelling be auspicious, and do not let your heart be troubled. See how the forests lie empty all around, as if they are weeping, with the animals and birds withdrawn into their shelters. Today, the city of Ayodhya, my father’s royal capital, will surely grieve for us who have departed, with its men and women—there is no doubt. The people, deeply devoted to the king for his many virtues, will also mourn you, me, O tiger among men, and likewise Shatrughna and Bharata. I grieve for my father and my noble mother; may they not become blind from weeping for us so often. Indeed, Bharata, who is righteous at heart, will comfort my father and mother with words joined to duty, wealth, and desire. Reflecting again and again on Bharata’s compassion, O mighty-armed one, I do not grieve for my father or my mother. O tiger among men, you have fulfilled your duty by following me; now you must assist in protecting Vaidehī.” Thus, Rama continued his journey, surrounded by love, devotion, and the sorrow of those he left behind, his heart firm in righteousness, and his words a balm to all who followed him.