Along the course of the sacred river, there were places where even the gods themselves came to bathe in her cool, pure waters, and she shone brightly, adorned with spotless lotuses. At times, her expanse stretched wide over broad sandbanks, while elsewhere her banks were covered with the finest, cleanest sand. The gentle shores echoed with the calls of swans and cranes, and the cries of chakravaka birds. Joyful songs of birds, intoxicated by the delights of the riverbanks, filled the air unceasingly. In some stretches, riverside trees grew in profusion, garlanding the Ganga with their branches, while in other places she was blanketed with blooming lotuses or crowded with dense clusters of lotus plants. There were places where the river was adorned with buds of kumuda flowers, and in others, she seemed almost intoxicated herself, scattered with the golden pollen of countless blossoms. The Ganga flowed clear and radiant, untroubled by muddy swirls, her waters shining like precious jewels. Her banks were frequented by wild elephants, both those who roamed the forests and the finest tuskers of the directions. Often, the trumpeting of divine elephants resounded along her shores, echoing through the forests. Even without any adornment, the river was as beautiful as a beloved woman untouched by ornaments. Her banks were abundant with fruits, flowers, tender shoots, and thickets alive with birds. Within her waters dwelled porpoises, crocodiles, and serpents. She was none other than the divine Ganga, sprung from the feet of Vishnu, sinless and destroyer of sin, who had descended from the matted locks of Shankara and blazed with the radiance of the ocean. It was to this queen of rivers that the mighty-armed Rama now drew near, as he approached the city of Shringibera. The banks echoed with the calls of cranes and waterfowl, and the river swirled with waves and eddies. Beholding this wondrous sight, the great chariot-warrior Rama said to Sumantra, “Let us stay here tonight.” He pointed out a great ingudi tree not far from the river, abundant with flowers and leaves. “Let us rest here, charioteer,” he said. “Here, we can behold the best of rivers, sacred and honored by all, whose waters are revered by gods, demons, gandharvas, beasts, humans, and birds alike.” Lakshmana and Sumantra replied, “So be it,” and led the horses to the shade of that ingudi tree. Rama, the joy of the Ikshvaku line, approached the lovely tree and, together with Sita and Lakshmana, descended from the chariot. Sumantra also 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 and Rama’s dear friend—renowned for his strength and equal to Rama in nobility—approached. Hearing that Rama, the tiger among men, had entered his territory, Guha came forth, surrounded by his aged ministers and kinsmen. Seeing Guha standing at a distance, Rama, with Saumitri at his side, walked toward him. Guha, overcome with emotion, embraced Rama and said, “This land is yours as much as Ayodhya, Rama. What can I do for you?” He continued, “Who could hope for a guest so dear as you? Let me offer you all that I have.” Quickly, Guha brought forth many kinds of excellent food and drink, water for washing, and spoke with deep affection: “Welcome, mighty-armed one! This entire land is yours. We are your servants, and you are our lord. Rule our kingdom as you see fit. Here are foods to eat and enjoy, drinks to savor, the finest beds, and fodder for your horses.” To these heartfelt offerings, Rama replied, “You have honored us in every way, Guha—by coming to us on foot and by your warm welcome. It is by good fortune 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 so kindly prepared, I accept your goodwill, but I do not accept gifts. Know me now as one who wears grass, bark, and deerskin, living on fruits and roots, devoted to righteousness, and dwelling in the forest like an ascetic. I ask only for fodder for the horses; that alone will honor me here. These horses are dear to my father, King Dasharatha. By caring for them, you will honor me.” Guha immediately ordered his men to bring water and fodder for the horses. Then Rama, clad in bark, performed the evening twilight rites facing west. He took only water for his meal, brought by Lakshmana himself. When Rama lay down on the ground, Lakshmana washed his feet, and then, together with Sita, stood nearby, sheltering under a tree. Guha, too, with his charioteer, spoke with Saumitri and, remaining vigilant and armed with his bow, stayed awake through the night to guard Rama. Thus, as the wise and illustrious Rama—unaccustomed to hardship and once surrounded by comfort—lay upon the earth, the long night slowly passed. Now, listen to the next chapter of the glorious Valmiki Ramayana. Guha, tormented by sorrow for his friend, spoke to Rama, who was awake and without deceit, and to Lakshmana. “Dear prince,” he said, “a comfortable bed has been prepared for you; rest well upon it as you wish, and take comfort here. All these people are used to hardship, but you are suited for comfort; we will remain awake through the night to guard you, O Kakutstha. Truly, there is no one on earth dearer to me than Rama; I speak the truth, and I swear it by truth itself. By your favor, I hope to gain great fame in this world, to attain abundant righteousness, and to acquire pure prosperity.