As Rama’s chariot rolled onward, the elders and Brahmins of Ayodhya, their hearts heavy with grief, called out to Sumantra, the charioteer. “All creatures, especially noble horses, are attentive to words,” they pleaded. “Having heard our request, you must turn back. Your lord—pure in spirit, righteous, heroic, and steadfast in his noble vow—should be brought back to the city by you, not carried away to the forest.” Their anguished words reached Rama. Seeing the elders, distressed and sorrowful, Rama suddenly alighted from the chariot. With Sita and Lakshmana by his side, he began to walk on foot, placing his steps close together, his mind firmly set on the forest ahead. Rama, ever devoted to righteousness and filled with compassion, could not bear to leave the Brahmins behind while he rode in the chariot. As Rama walked away, the Brahmins, their hearts troubled and deeply afflicted, called out to him. “All Brahminhood follows you, for you are devoted to Brahmins. Even these sacred fires, carried on our shoulders, accompany you into exile. See these umbrellas, born from Vājapeya sacrifices, trailing behind us like clouds after the rains. For you, scorched by the sun and lacking an umbrella, we shall shade you with our own Vājapeya umbrellas. The resolve that always guided us according to Vedic mantras now follows you into the forest, dear one. “The Vedas, our greatest treasure, 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 walk the path of dharma? We beg you to return. With heads bowed, hair white as swans, and conduct humble, we entreat you, dusted by the earth. Many sacrifices performed by Brahmins here await completion, and their fulfillment depends on your return. “All beings here, both moving and unmoving, are devoted to you. 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, O compassionate one.” As the Brahmins cried out for Rama’s return, darkness seemed to descend upon the path, as if to block Raghava’s way. Sumantra, seeing this, released the weary horses from the chariot and turned them quickly, leading them, their bodies soaked with water, near the edge of the darkness. Thus ended that day, and the next chapter of the journey began. On the pleasant bank of the Tamasā river, Rama settled with Sita and Lakshmana. He turned to his brother and spoke gently, “Saumitri, this is our first night in the forest. May your dwelling here be auspicious; let your heart not be troubled. See how the forests lie empty all around, as if 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, its men and women mourning. The people, so deeply devoted to the king for his many virtues, will also mourn for you, for me, and for Bharata and Shatrughna. I grieve for my father and my noble mother—may they not lose their sight from weeping for us so often. But Bharata, righteous at heart, will comfort them with words grounded in duty, wealth, and desire. Thinking again and again of Bharata’s compassion, I do not worry for my father or my mother. “O mighty-armed one, you have fulfilled your duty by following me. Now, you must help protect Vaidehī. Tonight, I will sleep here by the water; this pleases me, even though many kinds of forest dwellings are possible.” Having spoken thus, Rama addressed Sumantra as well: “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 fallen, the charioteer prepared Rama’s bed together with Lakshmana. On that bed of leaves by the Tamasā’s bank, Rama lay down with Sita and Lakshmana. When Rama, weary from the day, fell asleep with his wife, Lakshmana remained awake, recounting Rama’s many virtues to the charioteer. Through the night, as the sun rose, Lakshmana continued to speak of Rama’s qualities on the riverbank. Across the Tamasā, where herds of cattle gathered, Rama spent the night with his companions. At dawn, the illustrious Rama rose and, seeing his companions, spoke to his brother, Lakshmana, who bore auspicious marks. “O Saumitri, see now those citizens who, disregarding their own homes, have gathered beneath the trees, caring only for us. Just as these townspeople hold firm to their vow of not turning back from us, so too would they sooner give up their lives than abandon their resolve.” Thus, Rama’s journey into exile began, marked by the devotion of his people and the steadfastness of his companions, his heart ever mindful of righteousness and the bonds of love and duty.