Rāma, the tiger among men, journeyed onward in his chariot through the renowned lands of noble kings, where the air was alive with the sacred chants of Brahmins. The kingdom he traversed was joyful, flourishing, and beautiful, filled with lovely gardens and worthy of royal enjoyment. Amidst this radiant landscape, Rāghava beheld the divine Gaṅgā, the sacred river flowing in three streams—holy, pure, free from weeds, and frequented by sages. The Gaṅgā’s banks were adorned with splendid hermitages, and at auspicious times, joyous Apsarases graced her waters. Lakes attended her, and she was beautified by the presence of gods, Dānavas, Gandharvas, and Kinnaras, while the wives of Nāgas and Gandharvas gathered along her shores. Hundreds of celestial playgrounds and tens of thousands of divine gardens surrounded her, and she was famed as the divine lotus-lake, rising heavenward for the pleasure of the gods. In some places, the river laughed with the crashing of her waters, her smile as pure as foam; elsewhere, her waters were braided or adorned with swirling eddies. At times she was calm and deep, in other stretches agitated by swift currents; here her voice was a profound roar, there a terrifying noise. Gods bathed in her waters, which shone with spotless lotuses; sometimes she spread wide with sandbanks, elsewhere her shores were covered in pure, shining sand. Her banks echoed with the calls of swans, cranes, and chakravaka birds, always vibrant with the joyful songs of intoxicated birds. In some places, riverside trees garlanded her banks; elsewhere, blooming lotuses and clusters of lotus plants crowded her waters. Clusters of kumuda buds beautified her in some stretches, while in others she seemed intoxicated, scattered with the pollen of many flowers. Free from muddy gatherings, she shone with the clarity of jewels. Her banks were frequented by wild elephants and the finest tuskers of the directions and the forest. Often, the forests resounded with the trumpeting of divine elephants. Like a beloved woman beautiful even without adornment, Gaṅgā was charming in her natural splendor. She abounded in fruits, flowers, and tender shoots, with thickets and birds, and was inhabited by porpoises, crocodiles, and serpents. This was the divine Gaṅgā, sprung from the feet of Viṣṇu, sinless and the destroyer of sin, who had fallen from the matted locks of Śaṅkara and blazed with the radiance of the ocean. As Rāma, mighty-armed and resolute, approached the Gaṅgā—the queen of rivers—her banks echoed with the cries of cranes and waterfowl. Nearing the city of Śṛṅgibera, he saw the river swirling with waves and eddies and spoke to Sumantra, “Let us stay here tonight.” He pointed out a great ingudi tree, lush with flowers and leaves, not far from the river, and suggested, “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.” Lakṣmaṇa and Sumantra replied, “So be it,” and brought the horses to the ingudi tree. Rāma, the joy of the Ikṣvākus, approached the lovely tree and, together with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa, descended from the chariot. Sumantra also dismounted, unyoked the noble horses, and, with hands joined in reverence, stood near Rāma, who had settled at the foot of the tree. At that time, Guha, the king of the Niṣādas—a man of great strength, Rāma’s dear friend and equal—approached, having heard that Rāma, the tiger among men, had entered his territory. Guha was accompanied by his aged ministers and kinsmen. Seeing the king of the Niṣādas standing at a distance, Rāma and Saumitri (Lakṣmaṇa) went to meet him. Distressed and moved, Guha embraced Rāghava and said, “This land is yours as much as Ayodhyā, Rāma. What can I do for you?” He continued, “For who, O mighty-armed one, would gain such a beloved guest as this?” Bringing various kinds of excellent food and drink, Guha quickly offered water for washing and spoke with devotion, “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’s heartfelt offerings, Rāghava 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.” Embracing Guha warmly, he said, “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.” He explained, “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 Daśaratha. By providing well for these horses, I shall feel honored.” Guha then ordered his men to quickly provide water and fodder for the horses. As evening approached, Rāma donned an upper garment of bark, performed the twilight rites facing west, and took only water for his meal, brought by Lakṣmaṇa himself. When Rāma lay down on the ground to rest, Lakṣmaṇa washed his feet, and then, together with Sītā, stood nearby, taking shelter under the tree, keeping watch through the night.