As Rama journeyed onward, he beheld prosperous villages flourishing in abundance. These settlements were rich in grain and wealth, inhabited by generous and virtuous people who lived free from fear. Their beauty was enhanced by the presence of sacrificial posts, marking the devotion of their residents. Gardens and mango groves adorned these villages, blessed with plentiful water and teeming with contented, healthy people. Herds of cattle moved gracefully among them, further testifying to the prosperity of the land. Passing through the distinguished realms of kings, Rama—the tiger among men—rode in his chariot, accompanied by the resonant chants of Brahmins. In the midst of this joyful, flourishing, and beautiful country, crowded with lovely gardens, the steadfast prince traversed the kingdom, a land truly fit for royal enjoyment. Soon, Raghava’s gaze fell upon the divine Ganga, flowing in three streams. The river appeared holy, pure, and free from weeds, frequented by sages engaged in their spiritual practices. Nearby, splendid hermitages stood, and at auspicious times, joyous Apsarases graced the sacred waters. The river was attended by lakes and beautified by the presence of gods, Dānavas, Gandharvas, and Kinnaras. The wives of Nāgas and Gandharvas often visited her banks, adding to the celestial atmosphere. Hundreds of divine playgrounds clustered along her course, and tens of thousands of celestial gardens adorned her, earning her fame as the divine lotus-lake that ascends to the heavens for the sake of the gods. In some places, the river laughed with the crashing of water, her smile as pure as foam; elsewhere, her waters braided together or swirled in eddies. At times, she was calm and deep, while in other stretches, swift currents agitated her surface. Here, she roared with a profound sound; there, the noise was terrifying. In certain spots, gods bathed in her waters, which shone with spotless lotuses. Sometimes she spread out in broad sandbanks; elsewhere, her shores were covered in pure sand. The banks echoed with the calls of swans and cranes, and the cries of chakravaka birds. Joyful songs of intoxicated birds filled the air, and in some places, riverside trees adorned her like garlands. Elsewhere, blooming lotuses and clusters of lotus plants crowded her waters. Clusters of kumuda buds beautified her in places, and in others, she seemed intoxicated, scattered with the pollen of many flowers. Free from muddy gatherings, the Ganga shone with the clarity of jewels. Her banks were frequented by wild elephants and the finest tuskers from the directions and the forest. Often, her forests resounded with the trumpeting of divine elephants. Like a beloved woman not yet adorned with the finest ornaments, she was beautiful even without embellishment. The river was filled with fruits, flowers, and tender shoots, thickets, and birds, and inhabited by porpoises, crocodiles, and serpents. She was the divine Ganga—sprung from Vishnu’s feet, sinless and the destroyer of sin, fallen from the matted locks of Shankara, blazing with the radiance of the ocean. The mighty-armed Rama approached the Ganga, queen of rivers, whose banks echoed with the cries of cranes and waterfowl, as he neared the city of Shringibera. Seeing her swirling with waves and eddies, the great chariot-warrior said to Sumantra, “Let us stay here tonight. Not far from the river stands a great ingudi tree, abundant with flowers and leaves; let us stay right here, charioteer. We will behold the best of rivers, sacred and honored by all, whose waters are revered by gods, demons, gandharvas, beasts, humans, and birds.” Lakshmana and Sumantra replied to Raghava, “So be it,” and brought the horses to the ingudi tree. Rama, the joy of the Ikshvakus, approached the lovely tree and, together with his wife Sita and Lakshmana, descended from the chariot. Sumantra also dismounted, unyoked the noble horses, and, with hands joined in reverence, stood near Rama at the foot of the tree. At that moment, Guha—the king of the Nishadas, Rama’s friend equal to himself and renowned for his great strength—approached. Hearing that Rama, the tiger among men, had entered his territory, Guha, accompanied by his aged ministers and kinsmen, came forth. Seeing the king of the Nishadas standing at a distance, Rama, together with Saumitri, approached Guha. Distressed, Guha embraced Raghava and said, “This land is yours as much as Ayodhya, Rama; what can I do for you? Who, O mighty-armed one, could hope for such a beloved guest as yourself?” Then, bringing various kinds of excellent food and drink, Guha quickly offered water for washing and spoke words of welcome. “Welcome to you, mighty-armed one! This entire land is yours. We are your servants; you are our lord. Rule our kingdom well. Here are foods to eat, to enjoy, to drink, and to taste, as well as the finest beds and fodder for your horses.” To Guha, who spoke thus, Raghava replied, “We have indeed been honored and made joyful by you in every way—by your coming to us on foot and by your affectionate welcome.” Pressing Guha with his well-formed arms, Rama spoke, “It is by good fortune, Guha, that I see you safe and well with your relatives. Is all well with your kingdom, your friends, and your wealth? As for what you have kindly prepared for us, I accept it all, but I do not engage in receiving gifts. Know me as one who wears grass, bark, and deerskin, who lives on fruits and roots, devoted to righteousness, and dwelling in the forest like an ascetic. I only require fodder for the horses, nothing else. By this alone, I shall be well honored by you here. For these horses are dear to my father, King Dasharatha. By providing well for these horses, I shall feel honored.” Guha then ordered his men to quickly provide water and fodder for the horses, fulfilling Rama’s request with devotion and care.