In that sacred place, many sages had dwelled for a hundred years, performing intense austerities. Their ascetic power was so great that, adorned with skulls as headgear, they had risen to the heavens. Observing the serenity and sanctity of this secluded hermitage, Bharadvāja, the knower of righteousness, spoke gently to Rāma, “I believe this peaceful dwelling will be comfortable for you. Whether here or deeper in the forest, remain, O Rāma, together with me.” Bharadvāja, the venerable sage, then welcomed Rāma—his beloved guest—along with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa. With deep hospitality, he offered them everything they might desire. As Rāma arrived at Prayāga and met the great sage, the blessed night passed in delightful companionship, as they recounted many wondrous tales. The descendant of Kakutstha, Rāma—though weary and accustomed to royal comforts—spent that night happily with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa in the delightful hermitage of Bharadvāja. When the night had passed, Rāma, that tiger among men, approached the sage, whose ascetic power shone brightly, and addressed him respectfully: “Having spent the night in your gracious hermitage, O truthful one, we now seek your permission to depart from this sacred dwelling.” As the new day dawned, Bharadvāja replied, “Go to Citrakūṭa, a place abundant with honey, roots, and fruits. I believe that mountain is well-suited for your dwelling, O mighty Rāma. It is adorned with flocks of many birds and frequented by Kinnaras and serpents. Its slopes resound with the calls of peacocks and are attended by lordly elephants. That renowned mountain, Citrakūṭa, should be your destination.” He continued, “It is sacred and beautiful, rich with many roots and fruits. There, herds of elephants and groups of deer roam freely. As you wander, O Rāghava, you will see those herds grazing at the forest’s edge and along the riverbanks, slopes, and mountain streams. Roaming with Sītā, your heart will rejoice upon that auspicious earth, filled with the calls of joyful cranes and cuckoos, and teeming with intoxicated deer and elephants. There, you will find a most delightful hermitage.” Thus, the fifty-fifth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, begins. Having spent the night in the sage’s hermitage, the two princes—Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, destroyers of foes—paid their respects to the great Bharadvāja and set out toward the mountain. The sage blessed their journey, and, with affection like a father for his sons, watched them depart. Then Bharadvāja, radiant in his ascetic power, spoke to steadfast Rāma: “Having reached the confluence of the Gaṅgā and Yamunā, O best of men, you should follow the Kālindī river, which flows westward. When you reach the swift-flowing Kālindī and see its ancient, sacred ford, you will recognize it. There, after fashioning a raft, you must cross the shining river. Once across, you will come upon a great banyan tree, lush with green foliage, grown large with many trees, dark and frequented by perfected beings. There, Sītā should offer her salutations with joined palms and utter auspicious blessings.” He instructed further, “After reaching that tree, you may rest or move on. Going about a krosha further, you will see the blue forest, beautiful with palāśa and jujube trees, and with bamboo from the Yamunā. I have taken this path to Citrakūṭa many times. It is pleasant, gentle, and free from forest fires.” Having thus described the way, the great sage Bharadvāja turned back. Rāma respectfully replied, “So be it,” and, dismissed by the sage, watched as Bharadvāja withdrew. As he departed, Rāma spoke to Lakṣmaṇa, “Truly, O Saumitri, we are blessed by the sage’s compassion.” The two mighty and wise princes conferred together. Placing Sītā at the front, they made their way to the river Kālindī. Upon reaching its swiftly flowing waters, they gathered wood and constructed a sturdy raft, covering it with dry bamboo and binding it with roots. Lakṣmaṇa, ever resourceful, gathered branches of cane and jambu trees and fashioned a comfortable seat for Sītā. Rāma, son of Daśaratha, seated his beloved wife gently, as if placing her upon a throne of fortune. They placed their bows and arrows on the raft, along with Sītā’s garments and warm coverings. Rāma also arranged the hard quivers and weapons beside her. With Sītā seated, the two brothers took hold of the raft and began crossing the river. As they reached the middle of the Kālindī, Sītā offered her salutations to the river, saying, “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 Ikṣvākus.” With joined palms, Sītā prayed to the river Kālindī. Having safely reached the southern bank, the beautiful Sītā, together with Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, crossed the shining, swift, wave-covered river by raft. With many trees lining its banks, they left the raft behind and set out from the Yamunā forest. They soon sat beneath a great, dark banyan tree, cool and lush with green leaves. Approaching the tree, Vaidehī—Sītā—spoke reverently, “Salutations to you, great tree! May my vow of fidelity be fulfilled; may I see Kausalyā and the illustrious Sumitrā again.” With joined palms, Sītā circled the banyan, making her request with devotion, as Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa looked on at her faultless virtue.