When the night had faded and the first light of dawn touched the forest, the illustrious Rāma turned to his brother Lakṣmaṇa, the gentle Saumitri marked by every auspicious sign. He said, “Dear one, the sun is rising and the blessed night has passed. Listen—the dark-plumed cuckoo calls out, and the cries of peacocks echo through the woods. It is time, gentle brother, for us to cross the swift-flowing Jahnavi, the Gaṅgā, which journeys to the ocean.” Lakṣmaṇa, ever attentive and the delight of his friends, heard Rāma’s words. He called for Guha, the chief of the boatmen, and Sumantra the charioteer, and together they approached Rāma. Guha, understanding Rāma’s wish, quickly summoned his attendants and instructed them, “Bring here a strong, well-equipped, and swift boat, fitted with oars and ready for the crossing.” Obeying Guha, his attendants soon brought a beautiful boat, well-prepared for the journey, and reported its arrival. Guha, with hands joined in reverence, addressed Rāghava, “O Lord, the boat is ready. What more may I do for you?” He continued, “This boat, O tiger among men, is as splendid as the chariots of the gods. It is ready to carry you across the river that flows to the ocean. Please, ascend, O steadfast one!” Rāma, radiant and mighty, replied warmly to Guha, “You have fulfilled my wish. Let us quickly embark.” With this, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa fastened their quivers and girded on their swords. Together with Sītā, they made their way towards the sacred Gaṅgā. As they prepared to leave, Sumantra the charioteer approached Rāma, his hands joined in humility, and asked, “What shall I do?” Rāma, son of Daśaratha, gently touched Sumantra with his right hand and said, “Sumantra, now return to Ayodhyā. Remain ever attentive before the king.” He instructed him, “Turn back, for my task is done. I will leave the chariot here and go on foot into the great forest.” Hearing himself thus dismissed, Sumantra was filled with sorrow. With a heavy heart, he said to Rāma, the tiger among men and scion of Ikṣvāku, “No one in this world has ever done what you do—dwelling in the forest with your wife and brother, as if you were an ordinary man. If such misfortune has come upon you, then what fruit is there in asceticism, or in study, or even in gentleness and honesty?” Yet, he added with conviction, “Dwelling in the forest with Vaidehī and your brother, O hero, you will surely attain your goal, as if conquering the three worlds.” Grieving, Sumantra lamented, “We are truly ruined, Rāma, we who have been deceived by her. Now we shall fall under the sway of sinful Kaikeyī and share in her sorrow.” Thus he mourned, as if for himself, and wept for a long time, watching Rāma from afar. When his tears had subsided, Rāma purified himself with water and spoke gentle, comforting words to the devoted charioteer, again and again: “Among the Ikṣvākus, I see no friend equal to you. Do all you can so that King Daśaratha does not grieve for me. The king, afflicted by sorrow and age, weighed down by desire—this is why I speak to you thus. Whatever the great-souled king commands, for the sake of Kaikeyī’s pleasure, must be done without hesitation. This is why kings rule their kingdoms: so that their will is never hindered. If the king does not fall into falsehood or succumb to sorrow, then, Sumantra, you too must act accordingly.” Rāma continued, “When you greet the king—aged, noble, and self-controlled—speak these words from me to him, who has not known suffering: ‘Neither I, nor Lakṣmaṇa, nor Maithilī grieve. We do not lament leaving Ayodhyā, nor that we will dwell in the forest. When the fourteen years are complete, you will soon see Lakṣmaṇa, Sītā, and myself returning again and again.’” “After speaking thus to the king and my mother, Sumantra, convey my words to the other queens, including Kaikeyī. Offer my wishes for health to Kausalyā, and give her my respectful salutations, as well as those of Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa. 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.” “Tell Bharata also: as you conduct yourself towards the king, so should you behave towards all the mothers, without distinction. Regard Kaikeyī and Sumitrā equally, but especially honor Queen Kausalyā, who is my mother. With affection for our father and the expectation of royal succession, you will bring happiness to both worlds.” Though overwhelmed by sorrow at Rāma’s urging to return, Sumantra listened to all these words. Out of deep affection, he replied to Rāma, “If, out of devotion and love, I have spoken without proper formality, please forgive my words. How can I return to that city, deprived of you, as if a son bereft of his father, overcome by grief at the separation?” Thus, in the gentle light of morning, on the banks of the sacred Gaṅgā, Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa prepared to cross into exile, their hearts full of courage, while Sumantra and Guha stood by, their own hearts heavy with devotion and sorrow.