Lakshmana and Sumantra, responding to Rama’s gentle command, brought the horses to a large ingudi tree. Rama, the delight of the Ikshvaku dynasty, approached this beautiful tree. With Sita and Lakshmana by his side, he stepped down from the chariot. Sumantra, too, descended, unyoked the noble horses, and, with hands folded in reverence, stood close to Rama, who had settled at the tree’s base. At that moment, Guha—the mighty king of the Nishadas, renowned for his strength and friendship with Rama—approached. News had reached Guha that Rama, the tiger among men, had entered his realm. Surrounded by his aged ministers and dear kinsmen, Guha hastened to greet his beloved friend. Seeing Guha standing respectfully at a distance, Rama, accompanied by Lakshmana, walked forward to meet him. Distressed by the sight of Rama in exile, Guha embraced him warmly and said, “This land is yours, Rama, as much as Ayodhya is. Tell me, what can I do for you?” Guha’s heart overflowed with devotion as he continued, “Who would not rejoice to receive such a cherished guest? I have brought excellent food and drink; water for washing is ready. Welcome, mighty-armed one! This land is yours. We are your servants, you our lord. Rule our kingdom as you wish. Here are foods to eat and enjoy, drinks to refresh you, the finest beds, and fodder for your horses.” Rama replied graciously to Guha’s words, “You have honored us in every way—by coming to us on foot, by your loving welcome. I am truly gladdened to see you safe and well with your family. Is all well with your kingdom, your friends, your wealth? As for your generous offerings, I accept your intent, but I do not accept gifts. Know me now as one who wears grass, bark, and deerskin, who lives on fruits and roots, devoted to righteousness, dwelling in the forest like an ascetic. I ask only for fodder for the horses. By this alone, you honor me. These horses are dear to my father, King Dasharatha. By caring for them, you show me true respect.” Hearing this, Guha immediately instructed his men to bring water and fodder for the horses. As evening descended, Rama, dressed in bark cloth, performed the twilight rituals facing the west. That night, he took only water as his meal, brought to him by Lakshmana. When Rama lay down upon the ground, Lakshmana gently washed his feet. Then, together with Sita, Lakshmana stood nearby, keeping vigil under the tree. Guha, too, with his charioteer, remained awake with Saumitri (Lakshmana), armed and alert, guarding Rama through the night. Thus, the wise and illustrious son of Dasharatha—unaccustomed to hardship and raised in comfort—rested upon the bare earth, and the long night slowly passed. Now begins the next chapter of the Ramayana. Guha, his heart heavy with sorrow for his friend, spoke to Rama, who was awake and open-hearted, and to Lakshmana: “Dear prince, this bed has been prepared for you; rest upon it as you wish and find 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 swear this to you by truth itself. By your favor, I hope to gain great fame, righteousness, and lasting prosperity. Therefore, I will protect my dear friend Rama and Sita as they lie here, bow in hand, with my kinsmen on every side. There is nothing in this forest unknown to me; even if a great fourfold army arrived, we could overcome it.” Lakshmana replied, “O faultless one, since you are protecting us, we have no fear here; we see only righteousness. But how could I find sleep, or even happiness, while the two sons of Dasharatha lie on the ground with Sita? He whom neither gods nor asuras could overpower in battle now lies on grass with Sita. This son of Dasharatha, obtained by mantras, austerity, and many efforts, endowed with noble qualities—now he dwells in the forest. With him gone, the king will not survive long; surely, the earth will soon become a widow. The women, exhausted, have ceased their loud wailing; I think the royal palace now lies silent. Kausalya, the king, and my own mother—I do not expect any of them will survive this night. Perhaps my mother may live for Shatrughna’s sake, but the grief that will destroy Kausalya, the mother of a hero, is grievous indeed. That city, once filled with devoted people and bringing joy to all who saw it, will perish, afflicted by the king’s misfortune. How will the great king’s life continue, when he cannot see his eldest, beloved, noble son?” Thus passed the night, filled with the love and sorrow of friends and brothers, as Rama lay in exile beneath the open sky.