Rama, his heart heavy with the weight of duty and righteousness, turned to Lakshmana and spoke with gentle resolve, “O sinless one, out of fear of unrighteousness and concern for the world beyond, this is why I do not allow myself to be anointed today.” His words, filled with sorrow, echoed through the lonely forest as he poured out his grief at length. Tears streamed down his face, and when at last his lamentation ceased, Rama sat in silence as night fell, the sadness still upon him. Lakshmana saw his brother quiet and subdued, his spirit dimmed like a fire whose flames have died, or a sea whose waves are stilled. With loving words, Lakshmana sought to comfort Rama. “Surely, O best of warriors, the city of Ayodhya is without radiance now that you are gone—like the night without the moon. It is not right, Rama, that you grieve in this way; your sorrow casts down both Sita and me as well, O noblest of men. Neither Sita nor I could live even a moment without you, just as fish cannot live when taken from water. Truly, I do not wish to see my father, nor Shatrughna, nor even the ascetic Sumitra, nor even heaven itself, if it means being without you.” As Lakshmana spoke, Sita sat nearby, and the two righteous brothers, seeking some comfort, lay down on a bed of leaves beneath a great banyan tree, not far from her. Hearing Lakshmana’s abundant and heartfelt words, Rama embraced his life in the forest with new respect and resolve. The noble Raghava devoted himself fully to righteousness, practicing supreme austerity for a long time. In that lonely forest, the two mighty sons of the Raghu line felt neither fear nor anxiety, like lions roaming the mountain slopes, secure in their strength and virtue. Now, listen to the next part of the story, from the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, chapter fifty-four. After spending the night safely beneath the great banyan tree, the spotless sun rose, and Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita prepared to depart. They set out toward the place where the sacred Bhagirathi Ganga meets the Yamuna, entering a vast and dense forest. As they traveled, they beheld many lands and delightful sights, marveling at things they had never seen before. Journeying safely, seeing all manner of trees, they continued until the day was nearly over. Then Rama spoke to Saumitri, “Look, Saumitri, near Prayaga, a column of smoke rises—I believe it is the sacred fire of a sage, the sign of the divine Agni. Surely we have reached 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 joy in their hearts, the two archers pressed on as the day waned, and soon they reached the sage’s dwelling at the confluence of the Ganga and Yamuna. As Rama arrived at the ashram, the deer and birds were startled by his presence, but he walked quietly for a while before approaching the sage Bharadvaja. Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita stood at a respectful distance, wishing to see the great sage. Entering the hermitage, they saw Bharadvaja surrounded by his devoted disciples, steadfast in his vows, focused in mind, and radiant with the vision gained through deep austerity. Seeing the sage’s sacred fire offering, Rama, along with Saumitri and Sita, greeted him reverently with joined palms. Rama then introduced himself to the sage: “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 this 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 shall enter the forest of austerity, where we will practice only righteousness, subsisting on roots and fruits.” Hearing these words, the righteous sage Bharadvaja brought offerings for them—a cow, water, and various kinds of forest food, roots, and fruits. He also prepared a dwelling for them and welcomed Rama with honor, surrounded by deer, birds, and other sages. After receiving the offerings and being seated, Rama listened as Bharadvaja addressed him: “O descendant of Kakutstha, after a long time I see you 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.” 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 visit this hermitage. People will come to see Vaidehī and me; for this reason, I do not wish to reside here. O revered one, look at that excellent hermitage site at the edge; there, Vaidehī, the daughter of Janaka, deserving of happiness, will find delight.” Hearing these words, the great sage Bharadvaja replied with kindness, “Ten krośas from here, dear one, is a mountain where you will dwell; it is holy, frequented by great sages, and pleasant to behold from all sides. It is known as Citrakūṭa, frequented by cows, langurs, monkeys, and bears, and it resembles the sacred Gandhamādana.” Thus, with the sage’s guidance, Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana prepared to continue their journey, hearts strengthened by the hospitality and counsel of the great Bharadvaja, as they made their way toward the sacred mountain of Citrakūṭa.