The city of Ayodhya, once vibrant with devoted citizens and a source of joy for all who beheld it, now seemed destined for ruin, stricken by the king’s misfortune. Bharata mourned, "How will the great king’s very life continue, when he can no longer see his eldest, beloved, noble son? When the king is lost, Kausalya will surely follow him in death, and then my own mother too will meet her end. My father, deprived of his cherished wish and unable to see Rama installed as king, will not survive this sorrow. When that time comes and my father has departed, all those who have had their desires fulfilled will perform the funeral rites for the king." He remembered the city—its beautiful crossroads, its broad, well-laid roads, the grand mansions and palaces adorned by the finest courtesans. Ayodhya was always crowded with chariots, horses, and elephants, alive with the sounds of music and blessed with every auspicious thing, filled with joyful and prosperous people. Its gardens and parks overflowed with beauty, its festivals and gatherings brought delight, and people moved about happily in the royal city of his father. "If only King Dasharatha might live," he sighed, "and after our return from the forest, we might see again that great-souled, virtuous man. If only, together with the truthful and unharmed one, we might enter Ayodhya once more after our exile is ended." Thus, the great-souled prince, overcome with sorrow and lamentation, spent the night in grief. As he spoke with such sincere love for the people, Guha, his devoted friend, was moved to tears, weeping in pain like a wounded elephant, unable to bear his friend’s suffering. As dawn broke, the fifty-second sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa began. The illustrious Rama spoke to his brother Saumitri, Lakshmana of auspicious marks: "The sun is rising, the blessed night has passed. Look, dear one, the dark-plumed cuckoo is calling." The forest echoed with the cries of peacocks. "Gentle one," Rama continued, "let us cross the swift-flowing Jahnavi, which moves toward the ocean." Hearing Rama’s words, Saumitri—the delight of his friends—summoned Guha and the charioteer, and stood with them before his brother. Guha, chief of the boatmen, quickly called his attendants and instructed, "Bring here a well-equipped, sturdy, and swift boat, fitted with oars and ready to cross the river." Obeying his command, Guha’s attendants brought a beautiful boat and reported to him. With joined palms, Guha addressed Rama: "Here is the boat, O lord; what more can I do for you?" He added, "This boat, O tiger among men, is equal to the chariots of the gods and ready to carry you across the river that flows to the ocean. Please, ascend it, O steadfast one!" Rama, radiant and resolute, replied, "My wish has been fulfilled by you, Guha; let us quickly embark." Rama and Lakshmana fastened their quivers and girded their swords. With Sita, they made their way toward the river Ganga. The charioteer Sumantra approached Rama, who knew righteousness, and with humility and joined palms asked, "What shall I do?" Rama, son of Dasharatha, touched Sumantra with his right hand and said, "Sumantra, quickly return. Remain ever attentive before the king." He instructed, "Turn back, for my task is done. Leaving the chariot, I will go to the great forest on foot." Seeing himself dismissed, the sorrowful Sumantra spoke to Rama, the tiger among men and descendant of Ikshvaku: "No one in this world has ever done what you are doing—dwelling in the forest with your wife and brother, as if you were an ordinary man. I cannot believe there is any fruit in asceticism, or in study, or even in gentleness and honesty, if you have come to such misfortune. Yet, dwelling in the forest with Vaidehī and your brother, O hero, you will surely attain your goal, as if conquering the three worlds." "We are truly ruined, Rama," Sumantra lamented. "We have been deceived by her and shall fall under the power of the sinful Kaikeyi, sharing in her sorrow." Thus grieving as if for himself, Sumantra wept for a long time as he watched Rama depart. When his tears had ceased, Rama, having purified himself with water, spoke sweetly to the pure-hearted charioteer again and again. "Among the Ikshvakus, I see no friend equal to you. Act so that King Dasharatha does not grieve for me. The lord of the earth, his mind weighed down by sorrow and age, burdened by desire—therefore, I say this to you: whatever the great-souled king commands, for the sake of Kaikeyi’s pleasure and desire, must be done without hesitation. For this reason, kings rule their kingdoms: so that their will is not hindered in any of their undertakings." "If the great king does not fall into falsehood, nor is he overcome by sorrow, then, Sumantra, act in that same way. Having greeted the king—who is aged, noble, and has mastered his senses—speak these words on my behalf, to him who has not known suffering." Thus, with heavy hearts and unwavering resolve, Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana prepared to cross the river, their path set by destiny and their devotion shining undimmed.