As Rama, the prince devoted to the welfare of his people, spoke sincerely, Guha, his noble friend, was overcome with emotion. Out of deep affection, Guha’s tears flowed freely, his grief as intense as an ailing elephant suffering in pain. When the long night had passed and the morning dawned, the illustrious Rama turned to his brother Lakshmana, Saumitri, whose auspicious marks shone brightly. “The time of sunrise has arrived, dear one,” Rama said gently. “The blessed night has gone, and listen—the dark-plumed cuckoo is calling. The cries of peacocks resound through the forest. Let us cross the swift-flowing Jahnavi, which journeys to the ocean.” Lakshmana, ever the delight of his friends, heard Rama’s words and summoned Guha and the charioteer. He then stood ready before his brother. Guha, hearing Rama’s command and accepting it, quickly called his attendants and instructed them, “Bring a well-equipped, sturdy, and swift boat, fitted with oars and ready for crossing.” Guha’s attendants, responding promptly, brought forth a beautiful boat and reported to Guha. Guha, with joined palms, addressed Rama, “Here is the boat, O lord. What more can I do for you?” He added, “This boat, O tiger among men, equal to the chariots of the gods, is ready to carry you across the river that flows to the ocean. Ascend it, O steadfast one!” Rama, radiant in his might, replied warmly to Guha, “My wish has been fulfilled by you. Let us quickly embark.” Rama and Lakshmana, having fastened their quivers and girded their swords, together with Sita, made their way towards the banks of the Ganga. The charioteer Sumantra approached Rama, who was well-versed in righteousness, and humbly asked with joined palms, “What shall I do?” Rama, the son of Dasaratha, touched Sumantra with his excellent right hand and said, “Sumantra, quickly return again; always be attentive before the king.” He instructed further, “Turn back, for my task is done. Leaving the chariot, I will go to the great forest on foot.” Sumantra, sorrowful at being dismissed, 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 do not believe there is any fruit in asceticism, study, gentleness, or honesty if you have come to such misfortune. Yet, dwelling in the forest with Vaidehi and your brother, O hero, you will attain your goal, as if conquering the three worlds.” “We are truly ruined, Rama,” Sumantra lamented, “we who have been deceived by her; we shall fall under the power of the sinful Kaikeyi and share in her sorrow.” Grieving deeply, Sumantra wept for a long time, mourning as if for himself, when he saw Rama departing into the distance. When his tears had ceased, Rama, having purified himself by touching water, spoke sweet words to the pure-hearted charioteer, reassuring him again and again. “Among the Ikshvakus, I see no friend equal to you. Act so that King Dasaratha does not grieve for me. The lord of the earth, his mind afflicted by sorrow and old age, weighed down by the burden of desire—therefore I say this to you. Whatever that 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. Neither do I grieve, nor does Lakshmana, nor Maithili; nor do we lament that we have left Ayodhya, or that we will dwell in the forest. When the fourteen years are completed, you will soon see Lakshmana, myself, and Sita returning again and again.” “Having spoken thus to the king and my mother, Sumantra, also convey my words repeatedly to the other queens, including Kaikeyi. Convey my wishes for health to Kausalya, and offer her my respectful salutations, as well as those of Sita, myself, and Lakshmana, as spoken by us. Also tell the great king to summon Bharata quickly; and if Bharata has already arrived, he should be established in the position favored by the king. Embrace Bharata and anoint him as heir-apparent; then the sorrow born from our distress will not overcome you.” “Bharata should also be told: as you conduct yourself towards the king, so should you behave towards all the mothers, without distinction. Just as you regard Kaikeyi and Sumitra equally, so too should you especially honor Queen Kausalya, who is my mother. With affection for my father and expectation of the royal succession, you are able to bring happiness to both worlds.” When Rama urged Sumantra to return, though distressed by sorrow, Sumantra listened to all these words and, out of affection, spoke to Rama, “If, out of affection and unwavering devotion, I speak without proper formality, you ought to forgive these words.” Thus concludes the fifty-second sarga as recited in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, in the Ayodhya Kanda.