On the lovely, level ground beneath the sacred woods of Citrakūṭa, Rāma spoke tenderly to Sītā, “Here, dear one, amidst these many trees, let us enjoy ourselves.” Together with Sītā, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa walked on, soon reaching the charming mountain of Citrakūṭa—a place delightful to the mind. The mountain greeted them with the calls of many birds, its slopes abundant with roots and fruits, beautiful and rich with sparkling lakes and streams. Rāma looked upon a lovely riverbank, shaded by trees and vines, and said gently, “See how this bank is covered with foliage and filled with roots and fruits. It seems well suited for our life in the forest.” He pointed out the rocky heights where great sages made their homes and declared, “Let this be our dwelling for now, dear one. Let us find joy here.” With reverence, Sītā, Rāma, and Lakṣmaṇa approached the hermitage of the sage Vālmīki, hands joined in greeting. The great sage, delighted and wise in righteousness, welcomed them warmly and invited them to be seated. Then Rāma, the mighty-armed elder brother of Lakṣmaṇa, properly introduced himself to the sage. Turning to Lakṣmaṇa, Rāma said, “Bring strong and excellent wood, dear one. Build us a dwelling, for my heart delights in staying here.” Hearing his brother’s words, Saumitri—Lakṣmaṇa—gathered various kinds of wood and built a beautiful, well-tied leaf hut. When the hut was finished, Rāma, pleased, spoke to his attentive brother, “Let us offer the meat of a deer here, Saumitri. The ritual for settling a dwelling must be performed by those who wish for long life.” He instructed, “Kill a deer and bring it quickly, Lakṣmaṇa, for this sacred rite must be done, as prescribed by the scriptures.” Understanding his brother’s command, Lakṣmaṇa, ever the slayer of enemies, did as instructed. Rāma said to him, “Let this black antelope be prepared as an offering. We shall perform the sacrifice. Hurry, gentle one, for the day is passing quickly.” Lakṣmaṇa, powerful son of Sumitrā, killed the pure black antelope and cast it into the blazing fire. When it was thoroughly roasted, free from blood, Lakṣmaṇa, tiger among men, spoke to Rāma, “This black antelope is now fully prepared, O noble one. Offer the sacrifice, for you are skilled in these rites.” Rāma, self-controlled, virtuous, and learned in sacred chants, bathed and recited all the concluding mantras of the sacrifice. Having worshipped all the hosts of gods, Rāma—pure and of immeasurable brilliance—entered the shelter, his heart filled with joy. He performed the Vaiśvadeva offering, as well as the fierce and Vaiṣṇava rites, and began the auspicious ceremonies to pacify their new dwelling. After properly reciting prayers and bathing in the river as prescribed, Rāma performed the highest offering to remove any lingering sin. He established altars, shrines, and sanctuaries appropriate to the hermitage. With forest garlands, fruits, roots, ripe meats as prescribed, water for libations, sacred darbha grass, and kindling, as taught in the Vedas, the two brothers, together with Sītā, satisfied the beings. Marked by auspicious signs, they entered the beautiful shelter. The delightful hut, well-built and sheltered from the wind, became their abode, as if the hosts of gods had entered their noble assembly hall. In that excellent forest, resounding with wild beasts, filled with many kinds of deer and birds, and adorned with trees bearing clusters of varied flowers, they rejoiced happily, their senses under control. Having reached the charming, picturesque mountain and the sacred river Mālyavatī, frequented by deer and birds, Rāma’s heart was uplifted; he let go of the sorrow caused by exile from his city. Now, the fifty-seventh sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, is to be heard. After speaking for a long time, overwhelmed with deep sorrow, Guha, accompanied by Sumantra, returned home when Rāma had crossed to the southern bank. The journey to Bharadvāja’s hermitage, their stay at Prayāga, and their ascent of the mountain were all observed by those present. Sumantra, having been permitted by Rāma, yoked the excellent horses and, his heart troubled, set out for the city of Ayodhyā. As he traveled swiftly, he beheld fragrant forests, rivers, and lakes, as well as villages and cities along the way. On the evening of the third day, the charioteer reached Ayodhyā and saw it bereft of joy. Seeing the city silent and deserted, Sumantra was deeply distressed and overwhelmed by sorrow. He wondered, “Has this city, with its elephants, horses, people, and rulers, been consumed by the fire of grief for Rāma?” Filled with anxious thoughts, the charioteer, with his swift-footed horses, hurriedly entered the city gate. As Sumantra approached, hundreds and thousands of men rushed toward him, asking, “Where is Rāma?” He replied, “After taking leave of Raghava at the Ganga, I was permitted to return by that righteous, great-souled one.” Learning that Rāma had crossed the river and gone, the people, their faces filled with tears, sighed deeply and cried out in anguish, “Alas! Fie! Ah, Rāma!