On the banks of the swift-flowing Ganga, Rama—the noble son of Ikshvaku—stood with his companions, preparing to cross the sacred river. Turning to his brother, he spoke with gentle authority, “O tiger among men, board this ready boat, and after you, carefully help Sita, the noble lady, to embark.” Lakshmana, ever obedient and without hesitation, followed his brother’s command. He assisted Sita, the virtuous daughter of Janaka, onto the boat first, and then climbed in himself. Then Rama, the illustrious elder brother, stepped aboard as well. Guha, the chief of the Nishadas, urged his kinsmen to set out across the water. Seated in the boat, Rama—the radiant Raghava—chanted sacred prayers for his own welfare, as prescribed for both Brahmins and Kshatriyas. He performed the ritual sipping of water according to scripture, joined by Sita, and Lakshmana, delighted and glowing, bowed in reverence to the river. Rama took leave of Sumantra, Guha, and their assembled forces, then signaled the boatmen to begin the crossing. With their encouragement, the boat, expertly guided by the helmsman and propelled by strong strokes of the oar, sped swiftly over the waters. As they reached the middle of the holy Bhagirathi, Sita—faultless and pure—joined her palms and prayed to the sacred river: “This is the son of Dasharatha, the great and wise king; may you, O Ganga, protect him and help him fulfill his father’s command. After dwelling for fourteen full years in the forest, together with his brother and me, he will return again. O blessed and gracious goddess, when I have returned safely, I will worship you joyfully for the fulfillment of all my desires. O goddess Tripathaga, you are seen in the world of Brahma and as the consort of the ocean king in this world. Therefore, I bow to you and praise you, O beautiful one, and when the tiger among men regains his kingdom and returns safely, 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 offerings of meat-rice, I will worship you with devotion upon my return to the city. All the deities who dwell upon your banks, and all the sacred fords and shrines, I will worship them as well. May I, united again with my strong-armed husband and his brother, re-enter Ayodhya from the forest, O sinless one.” Thus praying, Sita, the noble and blameless, soon reached the southern bank of the Ganga with her companions. Once ashore, Rama—the bull among men—left the boat and set out with his brother Lakshmana and the noble Sita. Rama then spoke to Lakshmana, the delight of Sumitra, “Be ever vigilant for our protection, whether we are among people or alone in the wilderness. Especially in the unseen solitude of the forest, we must ensure our safety. Go ahead, Saumitri, and let Sita follow you. I will walk behind, guarding you both. Today, Vaidehī will experience the hardship of forest life. No action is easily accomplished before its time; today, Sita will truly know the difficulty of dwelling in the forest. She will enter a land deserted of people, without fields or gardens, full of hardships and steep descents.” Hearing Rama’s words, Lakshmana led the way, followed by Sita, and behind them came Rama, the joy of the Raghu lineage. Having crossed to the far shore of the Ganga, Lakshmana looked earnestly at Rama, but as the journey lengthened, he turned his gaze back, his heart heavy; the ascetic, distressed, shed silent tears. With great soul and strength rivaling the guardians of the world, Rama continued onward after crossing the mighty river. Soon, they came upon prosperous villages, rich with beautiful crops and playful calves. There, the brothers hunted four great animals—a boar, a rṣya, a spotted deer, and a mighty stag. Taking the sacred meat, eager and hungry, they went quickly to the lord of the forest for shelter. As the day drew to a close, Rama approached a tree and, observing the western twilight, spoke to Lakshmana: “Today is our first night spent outside the city. Separated from Sumitra’s son, do not be anxious about it. From this day on, we must remain ever vigilant through the nights without weariness, for Sita’s safety depends upon us, Lakshmana. Let us somehow pass this night, Saumitri, spreading our bedding on the ground from what we can gather ourselves.” Accustomed to luxury, Rama now lay down upon the bare earth, and spoke auspicious words to Lakshmana. “Surely tonight the great king sleeps in sorrow, Lakshmana; but Kaikeyi, having fulfilled her desire, must be satisfied. That queen, for the sake of the kingdom, would not hesitate even to give up her life upon seeing Bharata return. Helpless and aged, deprived of me, what will the self-indulgent king—now under Kaikeyi’s sway—do? Seeing this misfortune and the king’s confused mind, I believe that desire outweighs both wealth and righteousness. For who, even if ignorant, would abandon his son for the sake of a woman, as our father has done to me, Lakshmana, though I have always obeyed her?” Thus, Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana spent their first night in exile, keeping watch and speaking quietly beneath the spreading branches, their hearts full of longing, courage, and devotion.