Sumantra, Rama’s devoted charioteer, was overcome with sorrow as he considered returning to Ayodhya without Rama. He lamented, “How can I go back to that city, deprived of you, as a son would grieve at separation from his father?” The thought of the people seeing his chariot—once known for carrying Rama—now empty, filled him with dread. He feared that the city itself might be torn apart at the sight, and misery would descend upon Ayodhya, as if it were an army bereft of its heroes. Sumantra reflected that, even though Rama would be far away, the people of Ayodhya would keep him alive in their minds and hearts. He knew they would surely fast and mourn, thinking constantly of Rama. He recalled how, during Rama’s exile, the people had grown distressed and agitated, their hearts weary with grief. Sumantra worried that the cries of anguish which had arisen at his own exile would now become a hundredfold greater when the citizens saw him return without Rama. He wondered what he could possibly say to Kausalya, Rama’s mother: “Should I tell her that her son has been taken to his uncle’s house, and ask her not to grieve?” Even if such words were untrue, Sumantra could not bring himself to utter them, nor could he speak the painful truth. He thought of Rama’s kinsmen, bound by his command, and wondered how the noble horses could explain that the chariot was bereft of Rama. Unable to bear the thought of returning to Ayodhya without Rama, Sumantra pleaded, “O blameless one, let me accompany you to the forest.” If Rama insisted on abandoning him, Sumantra declared that he would enter the fire with the chariot, forsaken by his beloved master. He offered to ward off any obstacles to ascetic practice in the forest with the chariot, and hoped to find happiness in serving Rama during his forest dwelling, just as he had found happiness in service with the chariot. Sumantra spoke of the horses, saying that if they served Rama in the forest, they would surely attain the highest state. He vowed to serve Rama with his head while dwelling in the forest, renouncing Ayodhya and even the realm of the gods. He insisted that he could not enter Ayodhya without Rama, for the royal city of mighty Indra is inaccessible to one who has committed evil deeds. When the period of forest dwelling was complete, Sumantra’s heart’s desire was to carry Rama back to the city with the same chariot. He believed that fourteen years spent with Rama in the forest would pass as quickly as moments, while hundreds of years without him would feel interminable. He begged Rama not to abandon him, for he stood devoted as a faithful servant, steadfast in service. Thus, Sumantra pleaded repeatedly, humble and distressed. Rama, compassionate to his servant, addressed him kindly, acknowledging Sumantra’s supreme devotion. Rama explained the reason for sending Sumantra back to the city: When Sumantra returned, Kaikeyi, Rama’s younger mother, would be convinced that Rama had gone to the forest, and she would not suspect the righteous king of being a liar. Rama expressed his wish that Kaikeyi might obtain a flourishing kingdom for her son Bharata, kept safe. For the happiness of Rama and the king, Rama instructed Sumantra to return to the city with the chariot and speak appropriately to each person as instructed. Having spoken thus and repeatedly consoled Sumantra, Rama then addressed Guha, the chief of the Nishadas, with firm and purposeful words. He explained that it was not fitting for him now to dwell in the inhabited forest; he must reside in the hermitage, as prescribed by the rule. Therefore, embracing the vow that adorns ascetics, Rama wished for the welfare of his father, Sita, and Lakshmana, and prepared to proceed. Rama requested that, after his matted locks were made, he would depart, and asked Guha to bring the milk of the banyan tree. Guha quickly brought the milk for the prince. With it, Rama fashioned matted locks for himself and Lakshmana. The long-armed, tiger among men then assumed the ascetic’s appearance. Clad in bark garments and wearing circles of matted hair, Rama and Lakshmana shone like twin sages. Having adopted the path of hermits with Lakshmana, Rama, having taken his vow, spoke to Guha, his companion, advising him to be ever vigilant regarding the army, treasury, fortresses, and the people, for the kingdom is most difficult to protect. Having taken leave of Guha, the scion of Ikshvaku swiftly departed, undisturbed, with his wife Sita and Lakshmana. On the riverbank, the son of Ikshvaku, desiring to cross the swift-flowing Ganga, spoke to Lakshmana: “O tiger among men, board this boat which is ready, and gently help Sita, the noble lady, to embark after you.” Lakshmana, hearing his brother’s command and offering no objection, first helped Maithili (Sita) to board, then ascended himself. Then the illustrious elder brother of Lakshmana, Rama, boarded as well, and Guha, the chief of the Nishadas, urged his kinsmen onward. Raghava, of great splendor, having boarded the boat, recited sacred prayers for his own welfare, as prescribed for both Brahmins and Kshatriyas. Having ritually sipped water according to the scriptures, together with Sita and Lakshmana, Rama, radiant and delighted, bowed to the river. Thus, the journey into exile continued, marked by devotion, sorrow, and the unwavering resolve of Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita, as well as the faithful love of those who served them.