As Rama journeyed away from Ayodhya in his chariot, the elders among the twice-born—wise and venerable Brahmins, their heads trembling with age—raised their voices from afar. They called out, “O swift horses carrying Rama, turn back! You must not go further. It is for your own good, and for your master’s.” They pleaded with the animals, knowing that all creatures, especially horses, are attentive to human speech. “Having heard our words, you must turn back,” they implored, “for your lord, pure in spirit, righteous, heroic, and unwavering in his noble vow, should be brought back to the city by you—not carried away to the forest.” Rama saw those elders, their hearts heavy and their words filled with anguish. Moved by their sorrow, he suddenly descended from the chariot. With Sita and Lakshmana by his side, Rama began to proceed on foot, his steps close together, his mind intent on the forest ahead. Though he cherished righteousness, Rama could not, out of compassion, leave those Brahmins behind by continuing on the chariot. Seeing Rama depart, the Brahmins, their minds troubled and deeply afflicted, spoke to him with great feeling: “All Brahminhood follows you, for you are devoted to Brahmins; even these sacred fires, carried on our shoulders, accompany you. See these umbrellas, arisen from our Vājapeya sacrifices—they follow behind us like clouds after the rains. For you, scorched by the sun and lacking an umbrella, we will provide shade with our own Vājapeya umbrellas. The resolve that has always guided us by the Vedic mantras 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 about your departure; when you are devoted to righteousness, what remains for us, who also stand on the path of dharma? We beseech you to return, our heads bowed, our hair white as swans, our conduct humble, dusted by the earth. Many sacrifices performed by Brahmins here await completion; their fulfillment, dear one, depends 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, even 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 those Brahmins cried out for Rama’s return, darkness seemed to descend, blocking Raghava’s path. Sumantra, the charioteer, then released the weary horses from the chariot, turned them quickly, and led them—bodies soaked with water—near the darkness. Let the forty-sixth chapter now be heard. Having settled on the pleasant bank of the Tamasā river, Rama looked at Sita and spoke to Saumitri, his brother Lakshmana. “This is our first night, Saumitri, sent into the forest. May your dwelling here 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, 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 (Sita). “Tonight, Saumitri, I will sleep here by the water; this pleases me, even though there are many kinds of forest dwellings.” Having spoken thus to Lakshmana, Rama then addressed Sumantra: “Be ever vigilant with the horses, O gentle one.” As the sun set, Sumantra restrained the horses, gave them abundant fodder, and remained close by. After performing the auspicious evening worship and seeing that night had come, the charioteer prepared Rama’s bed together with Saumitri. On the bank of the Tamasā, Rama lay down on a bed of leaves, with Sita and Lakshmana beside him. When Rama, weary, lay down with his wife and fell asleep, Lakshmana stayed awake, recounting Rama’s many virtues to Sumantra, the charioteer. Throughout the night, as the sun rose, Saumitri spoke of Rama’s virtues on the bank of the Tamasā. On the distant bank of the river, crowded with herds of cattle, Rama spent that night with his companions. As dawn broke, Rama, the illustrious son of Dasharatha, rose and gazed upon his companions. He then spoke to his brother Lakshmana, who bore auspicious marks, ready to continue their journey into the forest.