Sumitra’s son, Sumantra, overwhelmed with grief and humility, pleaded again and again with Rāma, his heart heavy with distress. Seeing his devoted charioteer in such a state, Rāma, ever compassionate to those who served him, addressed Sumantra with gentle understanding. He said, “O faithful one, I know well the depth of your devotion to me. Hear now the reason I ask you to return to the city. When you arrive in Ayodhyā, my younger mother, Kaikeyī, will be convinced that I have truly departed for the forest. Only then will she be satisfied, believing that her wish is fulfilled. She will not suspect our righteous king, Daśaratha, of falsehood. This is my heartfelt desire: that my younger mother may see her son, Bharata, protected and the kingdom flourishing under his care. For the happiness of both my father and myself, you must go back, Sumantra. Take the chariot and, as I have instructed, speak to each person in the city as is appropriate.” Having thus spoken and repeatedly offering comfort to Sumantra, Rāma then turned to Guha, the chief of the Niṣādas, and addressed him with firm resolve. “Guha, it is not right for me to dwell in the inhabited forest among people. The prescribed rule is that I must reside in a hermitage, as the ascetics do. Therefore, embracing the vow that is the ornament of the hermit, for the welfare of my father, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa, I must proceed.” He continued, “After my matted locks are fashioned, I will depart. Please bring the milk of the banyan tree.” Guha quickly fetched the banyan milk, and with it, Rāma made matted locks for himself and for Lakṣmaṇa. Now clad in garments of bark and with their hair bound in ascetic knots, the two brothers shone like twin sages, radiant and resolute. Having embraced the path of the hermit with Lakṣmaṇa, Rāma, steadfast in his vow, spoke again to Guha: “Be ever vigilant, Guha, in protecting the army, the treasury, the fortresses, and the people, for the duty of guarding a kingdom is most difficult.” Having thus counselled Guha, Rāma, scion of the Ikṣvāku line, took his leave. With Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa by his side, he set out, undisturbed in spirit. Upon reaching the riverbank, Rāma, desiring to cross the swift-flowing Gaṅgā, turned to Lakṣmaṇa and said, “O tiger among men, board this boat, which is ready. Then, gently help Sītā, the noble lady, to embark after you.” Lakṣmaṇa, obedient to his elder brother’s command, offered no objection. He first helped Sītā, Maithilī, to board the boat, and then ascended himself. Rāma, the illustrious elder brother, followed after. Guha, chief of the Niṣādas, urged his kinsmen to row with skill and care. As Rāma, resplendent and serene, boarded the boat, he recited sacred prayers for his own welfare, as prescribed for both Brahmins and Kṣatriyas. Together with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa, he ritually sipped water according to the scriptures and, radiant and delighted, offered reverent bows to the river. Then, taking leave of Sumantra, Guha, and their assembled forces, Rāma directed the boatmen to proceed. The boat, expertly steered and swiftly propelled by the oarsman’s skilled hands, sped across the waters. When they reached the middle of the sacred Bhāgīrathī, the faultless Sītā, her hands joined in prayer, spoke reverently to the river: “This is the son of Daśaratha, the great and wise king. O Gaṅgā, protect him, that he may fulfill his father’s command. After dwelling in the forest for fourteen full years, together with his brother and me, he will return again. O blessed and gracious goddess, when I have returned safely, I will worship you, O Gaṅgā, joyfully, for the fulfillment of all my desires. You, O Tripathagā, are beheld in 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 offer you 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, upon my return to the city. All the deities who dwell along your banks, and the sacred fords and shrines that exist, I will worship them all. Grant that I may re-enter Ayodhyā from the forest, joined again with my strong-armed husband and his brother, O sinless one.” Thus praying, Sītā, the faultless one, soon reached the southern bank of the Gaṅgā. There, the mighty Rāma, having left the boat, set out with his brother and the noble Sītā. He then spoke to Lakṣmaṇa, the joy of Sumitrā: “Be ever vigilant for our protection, whether among people or in solitude. Especially in the unseen solitude of the forest, protection must be ensured. Go ahead, Saumitri, and let Sītā follow you. I will walk behind, guarding you and Sītā. Today, Vaidehī will experience the hardship of forest life. No action is easily accomplished before its time; today, she will indeed know the hardship of forest dwelling. She will enter the forest, deserted of people, devoid of fields and gardens, full of difficulties and steep descents.