Near the sacred river, the landscape was adorned with splendid hermitages and graced, at the proper times, by the joyous presence of Apsarases. The river itself was attended by tranquil lakes, its banks a place of divine beauty. Gods, Dānavas, Gandharvas, and Kinnaras added their celestial presence, while the wives of Nāgas and Gandharvas frequented its shores, lending an air of constant festivity and grace. The river teemed with hundreds of divine playgrounds and was adorned with tens of thousands of celestial gardens. Famed as the divine lotus-lake, it seemed to ascend to the very heavens, created for the delight of the gods. In some places, the river laughed with the crashing of its waters, its smile pure as foam; elsewhere, its currents wove intricate braids, and in other spots, swirling eddies adorned its surface. There were stretches where the river was calm and deep, while in other places swift currents agitated its flow. Sometimes it resounded with a profound roar, elsewhere with a noise that inspired awe. At certain spots, the gods themselves bathed in her waters, and pure, spotless lotuses blossomed in her embrace. Broad sandbanks spread out in some places, while elsewhere the shores were covered in fine, clean sand. The banks echoed with the calls of swans and cranes, and the cries of chakravaka birds, while intoxicated birds filled the air with joyful song. In some places, riverside trees hung like garlands over the water; in others, blooming lotuses covered the surface, and clusters of lotus plants crowded the banks. Elsewhere, the river was beautified by clusters of kumuda buds, and in some places, she appeared almost intoxicated, scattered with the pollen of countless flowers. Her waters shone with the clarity of jewels, free from mud and impurity. Wild elephants and the finest tuskers from the forests and the four directions frequented her banks. The air often resounded with the trumpeting of divine elephants, echoing through the forests. Yet, like a beloved woman beautiful even without adornment, the river’s natural charm needed no embellishment. The river was filled with fruits, flowers, tender shoots, thickets, and birds, and was home to porpoises, crocodiles, and serpents. This was none other than the divine Ganga, sprung from the feet of Vishnu, sinless and the destroyer of sin, fallen from the matted locks of Shankara and blazing with the radiance of the ocean. As Rama, mighty-armed and noble, approached the Ganga—the queen of rivers, whose banks echoed with the cries of cranes and waterfowl—he drew near the city of Shringibera. Beholding the river, swirling with waves and eddies, the great chariot-warrior said to Sumantra, “Let us stay here tonight.” He pointed out a great ingudi tree nearby, abundant with flowers and leaves, 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.” Lakshmana and Sumantra replied, “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 his brother Lakshmana, descended from the chariot. Sumantra too dismounted, unyoked the noble horses, and, with hands joined in reverence, stood near Rama, who had gone to the foot of the tree. At that moment, Guha—the king of the Nishadas, Rama’s friend and equal in strength, renowned among his people—approached. Hearing that Rama, the tiger among men, had entered his territory, Guha, surrounded by his aged ministers and accompanied by his kinsmen, came forth to greet him. When Rama saw Guha standing at a distance, he and Lakshmana approached him. Guha, distressed at Rama’s plight, embraced him and said, “This land is yours as much as Ayodhya, Rama. What can I do for you?” He continued, “Who would not rejoice to receive such a beloved guest? I have brought various kinds of excellent food and drink, and offer water for washing.” Guha welcomed Rama warmly: “Welcome, 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 these words, Rama replied, “We have indeed been honored and made joyful by your coming to us on foot and by your affectionate welcome.” Embracing 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 in spirit, but I do not accept 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 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. That evening, Rama, clad in an upper garment of bark, performed the evening twilight rites facing west and took only water for his meal, brought by Lakshmana himself. When Rama lay down on the ground, Lakshmana washed his feet and, together with Sita, stood nearby, taking shelter under the tree. Guha, too, with his charioteer, conversed with Lakshmana and, remaining vigilant and armed with a bow, stayed awake to guard Rama. Thus, as that wise and illustrious son of Dasharatha, unacquainted with suffering and accustomed to comfort, lay there, the long night slowly passed. Now, listen to the next chapter—the fifty-first—in the Ayodhya Kanda of the glorious Valmiki Ramayana.