As Rāma prepared to depart deeper into the forest, Sumantra, his devoted charioteer, spoke with heartfelt loyalty. “O Rāghava,” he said, “whatever obstacles may arise to your ascetic practices here in the forest, I will ward them off with the chariot. The happiness I have found in serving you with this chariot in Ayodhya, I hope to experience again by serving you in your forest dwelling. Even these horses, O hero, if they serve you as dwellers of the forest, will surely attain the highest state.” Sumantra’s devotion was unwavering. “I will serve you with my very head while you dwell in the forest. Ayodhya, or even the realm of the gods, I renounce entirely. Truly, I cannot return to Ayodhya without you; just as the royal city of mighty Indra is inaccessible to one who has committed evil, so too is Ayodhya to me without you. When your period of exile is over, it is my heart’s desire to carry you back to the city with this very chariot. The fourteen years spent with you in the forest will pass like mere moments; otherwise, a hundred years would seem different. Please do not abandon me, your steadfast servant, on this path where master and son have gone, devoted to service.” Thus, Sumantra pleaded again and again, humble and distressed, until Rāma, ever compassionate to those who served him, addressed him gently. “I know your supreme devotion to me, O faithful one. But listen to the reason I send you back to the city. When you return, my younger mother Kaikeyī will be assured that I have indeed gone to the forest. Only then will that queen, satisfied at my departure, not suspect the righteous king of falsehood.” Rāma continued, “This is my foremost wish: that my younger mother may obtain a flourishing kingdom for her son Bharata, kept safe. For the happiness of both the king and myself, you, Sumantra, must return to the city with the chariot. As you have been instructed, speak to each person as appropriate.” Having thus spoken and consoled Sumantra, Rāma then addressed Guha, his friend and the chief of the Nishādas, with firm resolve. “Guha, it is not fitting for me now to dwell in the inhabited forest; I must reside in the hermitage, for such is the prescribed rule. Therefore, embracing the vow that adorns ascetics, I, wishing for the welfare of my father, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa, will proceed.” He added, “After my matted locks are fashioned, I will depart. Bring the milk of the banyan tree.” Guha promptly brought the milk, and with it, Rāma fashioned matted locks for himself and Lakṣmaṇa. Clad in bark garments and with their hair arranged in circles of matted locks, the brothers shone like twin sages, radiating the ascetic’s resolve. Having adopted the path of hermits, Rāma, together with Lakṣmaṇa, spoke to Guha once more. “Be ever vigilant, Guha, regarding the army, the treasury, the fortresses, and the people. The protection of the kingdom is a most difficult task.” Then, taking leave of Guha, Rāma, the scion of Ikṣvāku, departed swiftly and undisturbed, accompanied by Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa. Upon reaching the bank of the river, Rāma, desiring to cross the swift-flowing Gaṅgā, spoke to Lakṣmaṇa, “O tiger among men, board this boat which is ready, and gently help Sītā, the noble lady, to embark after you.” Lakṣmaṇa, obedient to his brother’s command, first helped Sītā to board, and then ascended himself. Then Rāma, illustrious elder brother of Lakṣmaṇa, boarded the boat as well. Guha, chief of the Nishādas, urged his kinsmen to guide the vessel. As Rāma, resplendent and full of dignity, boarded the boat, he recited sacred prayers for his own welfare, as prescribed for both Brahmins and Kṣatriyas. Together with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa, he performed the ritual sipping of water, and they all bowed to the river, radiant and delighted. Taking leave of Sumantra, Guha, and their forces, Rāma boarded the boat and instructed the boatmen to proceed. Prompted by their command, the boat, expertly steered by the helmsman and driven swiftly by the oar, crossed the waters with speed. When they reached the middle of the Bhāgīrathī, the faultless Vaidehī, Sītā, joined her palms and prayed to the river: “This is the son of Daśaratha, the great and wise king; may he, protected by you, O Gaṅgā, fulfill his father’s command. After dwelling for fourteen full years in the forest, together with his brother and me, he will return again. Then, O blessed and gracious goddess, when I have returned safely, I will worship you, O Gaṅgā, joyfully, for the fulfillment of all my desires.” She continued, “O goddess Tripathagā, you behold the world of Brahma, and as the consort of the ocean king, you are seen in this world. Therefore, O goddess, I bow to you and praise you, O beautiful one, when the tiger among men regains his kingdom and returns in safety. I will give a hundred thousand cows, garments, and fine food to the Brahmins, wishing to please you. With a thousand jars of wine and meat-rice offerings, I will worship you, O goddess, with devotion, when I have returned to the city. All the deities who dwell on your banks, and the sacred fords and shrines that exist, I will worship them all.” With these prayers and vows, the exiles crossed the sacred river, strengthened by faith and guided by devotion, journeying onward into the heart of the forest.