Rama, accompanied by Sita and Lakshmana, continued his journey on foot, carefully placing his steps close together, his mind resolutely set upon the path into the forest. Out of deep compassion, Rama, ever devoted to righteousness, could not bring himself to leave behind the Brahmins who had come to see him off, even though his chariot could have carried him swiftly away. As Rama began to depart, the Brahmins, their hearts heavy and troubled, called out to him in sorrow. “O Rama,” they said, “wherever you go, Brahminhood itself follows, for you are ever devoted to the Brahmins. Even these sacred fires, which we carry on our shoulders, accompany you now. See these umbrellas, born from the Vājapeya sacrifices—they follow behind us like clouds after the rains have ended. Since you are scorched by the rays of the sun and have no umbrella, let us shade you with our Vājapeya umbrellas. The resolve that always guided us, shaped by 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 so devoted to righteousness, what more remains for us, who are also followers of dharma? We beg you to return, our heads bowed low, our 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 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 and silent, fixed in their trees, also seem to beseech you, O compassionate one.” As the Brahmins cried out for Rama’s return, darkness seemed to descend, as if to block the path of Raghava. At that moment, Sumantra, too, released the weary horses from the chariot, turned them quickly, and led them, their bodies wet with water, near the edge of the darkness. Now, on the pleasant bank of the Tamasa, Rama settled for the night. He looked at Sita and spoke to Lakshmana, “Saumitri, this is our first night in the forest. May your dwelling here be auspicious, and do not let your heart be troubled. See how the forest lies empty all around, as if it is weeping, with all the animals and birds withdrawn into their shelters. Tonight, the city of Ayodhya, my father’s royal capital, will surely grieve for us who have departed—there is no doubt. The people, so devoted to the king for his many virtues, will mourn for you, for me, and also for Shatrughna and Bharata. “I grieve for my father and my noble mother; may they not become blind from weeping for us so often. Yet Bharata, who is righteous at heart, will comfort them with words founded in 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. You, Lakshmana, have fulfilled your duty by following me; now you must help protect Vaidehi. “Tonight, Saumitri, I will sleep here by the water; this pleases me, though there are many kinds of forest dwellings.” Having spoken thus to Lakshmana, Rama also addressed Sumantra, “Be ever vigilant with the horses, O gentle one.” Sumantra, restraining the horses as the sun set, gave them abundant fodder and stayed close by. After performing the auspicious evening worship and seeing that night had come, the charioteer prepared Rama’s bed together with Lakshmana. Rama, seeing the bed of leaves on the riverbank, lay down there with Sita and Lakshmana. As Rama, weary from the day, lay down with Sita and fell asleep, Lakshmana remained awake, recounting Rama’s many virtues to Sumantra. Thus, Saumitri stayed awake through the night, speaking of Rama’s greatness as the sun began to rise on the bank of the Tamasa. On the distant bank of the Tamasa, crowded with herds of cattle, Rama spent that night with his companions. Upon rising, the illustrious Rama looked upon his companions and spoke to Lakshmana, who bore auspicious marks, “Saumitri, see now those citizens who, disregarding their own homes, have attached themselves to us, sleeping beneath the trees, caring only for us. Just as these townspeople are steadfast in their vow not to turn back from us, so too would they sooner give up their lives than abandon their resolve. “Only while they are still asleep can we swiftly ascend the chariot and travel the path without fear. Let the devoted citizens of Ikshvaku’s city not continue to sleep here, seeking shelter beneath the trees. Indeed, the townspeople must be freed from the sorrow caused by their own actions by the princes, but they should not be made to suffer further by us.