Rama, his heart heavy with sorrow, turned to Lakshmana and spoke with deep anguish, “Saumitri, may no mother ever have a son like me—one who brings endless grief to his own mother. I feel as though the pet starling is dearer to her than I am, for I hear her speaking to it softly, even as she counts the toes of our enemy’s parrot. What use am I to my mother, O subduer of foes? She is so unfortunate, and I, her son, am powerless to help her as she grieves. My mother Kausalya, deprived of me, is overwhelmed by the greatest sorrow, cast into a vast ocean of grief. “Alone, I could conquer Ayodhya, and even the whole earth, with my arrows in anger, Lakshmana. But what is the use of valor now? It is pointless. I restrain myself only out of fear of unrighteousness and the consequences in the world beyond; that, O sinless one, is why I do not anoint myself king today.” Having poured out these and other sorrowful words in the lonely forest, Rama, his face bathed in tears, fell silent as night descended. Lakshmana beheld his elder brother, who had ceased his lamentation and seemed like a fire with its flames extinguished, like a sea whose waves were stilled. Gently, Lakshmana sought to comfort him. “Surely today, O best of warriors, Ayodhya is without radiance, for with you gone, it is like the night bereft of the moon. But it does not befit you, Rama, to grieve this way. You cast down Sita and me as well, O best of men. Neither Sita nor I could live even for a moment without you, just as fish cannot live when taken from water. Truly, I do not wish to see our father, nor Shatrughna, nor the ascetic Sumitra, nor even heaven itself, if it is without you.” Then, seeing Sita seated comfortably not far away, the two righteous brothers lay down on a bed of leaves beneath the banyan tree. Hearing Lakshmana’s wise and abundant words, Rama embraced life in the forest with respect. The noble Raghava devoted himself fully to righteousness, practicing supreme austerity for a long time. In that lonely forest, the two mighty scions of the Raghu line felt neither fear nor anxiety, just like lions roaming the mountain slopes. Thus passed the night. When the spotless sun had risen, Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana rose from beneath the great tree and departed from that place. They journeyed toward the confluence where the sacred Bhagirathi Ganga meets the Yamuna, entering a vast and dense forest. Along the way, the illustrious trio beheld many lands and delightful sights, seeing wonders they had never seen before. As they traveled safely, passing many kinds of trees, the day began to wane. Rama turned to Lakshmana and said, “Look, Saumitri, near Prayaga, a column of smoke rises—I think it is the sacred fire of a sage, the sign of the divine Agni. Surely we have come to the confluence of the Ganga and Yamuna, for I hear the sound of water striking against water. Here are logs split by forest dwellers, and in the ashram of Bharadvaja, many kinds of trees can be seen.” With happy hearts, the two archers continued on as the day waned and soon reached the sage’s dwelling at the holy meeting of the Ganga and Yamuna. As Rama arrived at the ashram, his presence startled the deer and birds. After walking for a while, he approached the sage Bharadvaja. The two heroes, accompanied by Sita and wishing to see the sage, stood respectfully at a distance. Entering the hermitage, they saw the great-souled sage surrounded by his disciples, steadfast in his vows and endowed with the vision gained through austerity. Seeing the sacred fire, Rama, together with Saumitri and Sita, greeted the sage respectfully with joined palms. Rama, the elder brother of Lakshmana, introduced himself, saying, “Revered one, we are the sons of Dasharatha—Rama and Lakshmana. This is my wife, Vaidehī, the virtuous daughter of Janaka; she, blameless, has accompanied me into the lonely forest of asceticism. Saumitra, my dear younger brother, has followed me, sent into exile by our father; this brother, firm in his vows, has come with me to the forest. O revered one, instructed by our father, we have entered this forest of austerity, where we shall practice only righteousness, subsisting on roots and fruits.” Hearing these words of the wise prince, the righteous sage Bharadvaja brought a cow, offerings, and water for them. Scorched by austerities himself, he provided them with many kinds of forest food, roots, and fruits, and also prepared a dwelling for them. Surrounded by deer, birds, and fellow sages, Bharadvaja welcomed Rama with honor and warm greeting. After receiving the offerings and seating Rama, Bharadvaja spoke words full of righteousness: “O descendant of Kakutstha, after a long time I see you come here. I have heard of your exile, which is without cause. Here is a secluded place at the confluence of the great rivers, holy and delightful. Let the blessed ones dwell here happily.” Thus addressed by the sage, Rama, ever mindful of the welfare of all, replied with auspicious words, “O revered one, the people of the city and countryside are nearby. If they see me here, I think they will flock to this hermitage.” And so, in the company of Sita and Lakshmana, Rama continued his journey of righteousness, embraced by the quiet strength of the forest and the hospitality of the sage.