As Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa approached the sacred peaks of Citrakūṭa, it was said that anyone who gazed upon those summits, as far as the eye could see, would be blessed with auspiciousness and their mind would not turn toward evil. Many sages had dwelt there for a hundred autumns, performing severe austerities—some even wearing skulls as headgear—and through their penance, they had ascended to heaven. Bharadvāja, the wise and righteous sage, observed the seclusion and serenity of his hermitage and spoke gently to Rāma, “I believe this peaceful dwelling will be comfortable for you. Whether here or in the forest, stay, O Rāma, together with me.” He welcomed Rāma, his cherished guest, along with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa, offering them everything they desired. When Rāma arrived at Prayāga to meet the venerable sage, the blessed night passed as they recounted many wondrous tales. Though weary and accustomed to comfort, Rāma, the descendant of Kakutstha, spent that night happily with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa as the third, within the delightful hermitage of Bharadvāja. When dawn broke, Rāma, the tiger among men, approached Bharadvāja, whose ascetic power shone brightly, and spoke with humility: “Having spent the night in your hermitage, O truthful one, we now seek your permission to depart from this dwelling.” Bharadvāja, seeing the night had ended, replied, “Go to Citrakūṭa, abundant with honey, roots, and fruits. I believe that place is suitable for your dwelling, O mighty Rāma—adorned with flocks of birds, frequented by Kinnaras and serpents. Citrakūṭa resounds with the calls of peacocks and is attended by lordly elephants. That renowned mountain should be your destination. It is sacred and beautiful, rich with many roots and fruits; herds of elephants and groups of deer roam all around. You will see those herds wandering at the forest’s edge, along riverbanks, slopes, and mountain streams. As you roam with Sītā, your heart will rejoice on that auspicious earth, filled with the calls of joyful cranes and cuckoos, and many intoxicated deer and elephants. There you will find a most delightful hermitage.” Let now the fifty-fifth sarga be heard in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Having spent the night in the sage’s hermitage, the two princes, destroyers of foes, paid their respects to Bharadvāja and set out toward the mountain. The great sage blessed their journey and, watching them depart, followed them with the affection of a father for his sons. Bharadvāja, radiant in ascetic power, spoke to Rāma, steadfast in truth and valor, “Having reached the confluence of the Gaṅgā and Yamunā, O best of men, you should follow the Kālindī river, which flows westward. Upon reaching the swift-flowing Kālindī and seeing its ancient, sacred ford, you will behold it. There, after making a raft, you should cross the shining river. Then, you will come upon a great banyan tree with lush green foliage—grown large with many trees, dark, and frequented by perfected beings. There, Sītā should offer her joined palms and utter auspicious blessings. Having reached that tree, you may stay or move on; after traveling about a krosha further, you will see the blue forest, beautiful with palāśa and jujube trees, and bamboo from the Yamunā. I have taken that path to Citrakūṭa many times. It is pleasant, gentle, and free from forest fires.” Thus describing the path, the great sage turned back. Rāma respectfully replied, “So be it,” and, dismissed by him, the sage withdrew. As Bharadvāja departed, Rāma spoke to Lakṣmaṇa, “We are truly blessed, O Saumitri, that the sage shows us such compassion.” The two mighty and wise princes conferred together, then placed Sītā at the front and made their way to the river Kālindī. Upon reaching the swiftly flowing Kālindī, they gathered bundles of wood and constructed a sturdy raft. They covered it with dry bamboo and wrapped it with roots; Lakṣmaṇa, strong and resourceful, gathered branches of cane and jambu trees and fashioned a comfortable seat for Sītā. Rāma, son of Daśaratha, seated his beloved as if placing her upon a throne of fortune. They placed their bows and arrows on the raft, and at Sītā’s side, her garments and warm coverings. Rāma placed the hard quivers along with the weapons, then, with Sītā seated first, the two brothers took hold of the raft. The heroic sons of Daśaratha began to cross the river. As they reached the middle of the Kālindī, Sītā offered her salutations, praying, “Farewell, O goddess! May I cross you safely; may my vow of fidelity be preserved. I will worship you with a thousand cows and a hundred jars of liquor. Farewell, when Rāma returns to the city protected by the Ikṣvakus.” Thus, with joined palms, Sītā prayed to Kālindī. Having reached the southern bank, the beautiful Sītā crossed the shining, swiftly flowing, wave-covered river by raft. With many trees along its banks, they crossed the Yamunā river, and leaving the raft behind, set out from the Yamunā forest. They sat beneath a dark banyan tree, cool and lush with green leaves. Approaching that banyan, Vaidehī spoke these words: “Salutations to you, great tree! May my vow of fidelity be fulfilled; may I see Kausalyā and the illustrious Sumitrā again.” Thus, guided by the sage’s wisdom and the blessings of nature, Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa journeyed onward, their hearts filled with hope and devotion, toward the sacred mountain of Citrakūṭa.