As Sumantra made his way through the city, he overheard groups of citizens speaking in hushed, sorrowful tones. Their voices carried the weight of despair: “Truly, we are ruined, for we do not see Raghava here.” They lamented how, in acts of charity, in sacred sacrifices, in weddings and grand gatherings, the righteous Rama would no longer be among them. They remembered how Rama had governed the city as a loving father, always considering what was beneficial, what was dear, what brought happiness to the people. Sumantra also heard the anguished cries of women, their voices drifting from the inner markets along the wind-swept streets, scorched by grief for Rama. With his face covered in sorrow, Sumantra proceeded along the royal road to the palace of King Dasaratha. He quickly dismounted from his chariot and entered the palace, passing through seven crowded courtyards. From the balconies and towers, women gathered together, gazing down in anguish, their faces emaciated by longing for Rama. Their wide, clear eyes brimmed with tears as they looked at one another, so overcome with grief that their words became indistinct murmurs. Within the palaces of Dasaratha’s wives, Sumantra heard soft, tormented murmuring, the women’s voices heavy with sorrow for Rama. He wondered what he would say to Kausalya, Rama’s grieving mother, having returned from the forest without her beloved son. Sumantra thought to himself how difficult it was to go on living, especially for Kausalya, who remained alive despite her son’s departure. Observing the truth in the words of the king’s wives, Sumantra entered the house suddenly, ablaze with grief. In the eighth chamber, he found King Dasaratha, miserable and agitated, his body faded and pale from sorrow for his son. Sumantra approached the seated king, offered his respects, and conveyed Rama’s message exactly as it had been spoken. Upon hearing this, Dasaratha remained silent, his mind disturbed. Overwhelmed by grief for Rama, the king fainted and collapsed to the ground. As he lay unconscious, the inner palace was struck with panic; the women raised their arms and cried out as the king fell. Kausalya and Sumitra together lifted their fallen husband, and Kausalya spoke: “Why do you not speak to this messenger, who has come from the forest-dwelling, having accomplished a difficult task? Having committed this injustice today, you feel ashamed, O Raghava; arise, may your virtue remain, for grief offers no assistance. O lord, out of fear of whom do you not ask the charioteer about Rama? Kaikeyi is not present here, so speak freely.” Having spoken thus, Kausalya, overwhelmed by sorrow, quickly fell to the ground, her speech choked with tears. Seeing Kausalya lamenting and fallen, and observing their husband, all the women cried out loudly. The sound of their grief rose from the inner palace, and throughout the city elders, young men, and women wept everywhere; once again, the city was plunged into turmoil. Let the fifty-eighth chapter be heard. When King Dasaratha recovered and returned to his senses, he summoned Sumantra, longing to hear about Rama’s situation. Sumantra, hands joined in reverence, approached the great king, who grieved deeply for Rama, his heart heavy with sorrow. The charioteer saw the aged king, afflicted and restless like a wounded elephant, sighing and reflecting. Dasaratha saw Sumantra, his limbs covered in dust, his face full of tears and dejection, and spoke to him with utmost anguish: “Where will the righteous one dwell, having taken shelter at the root of a tree? That exceedingly fortunate Raghava, charioteer, what will he eat? Unaccustomed to suffering and used to a comfortable bed, how does my son sleep on the ground like one without support? He whom foot soldiers, chariots, and elephants used to follow—how will Rama live, having taken refuge in a lonely forest? In a forest frequented by beasts, deer, and black serpents, how have the two princes, together with the daughter of Videha, arrived there? With gentle, ascetic Sita, Sumanta, how did the royal sons descend from the chariot and proceed on foot? You are indeed accomplished, charioteer, for you have seen my two sons entering the depths of the forest, like the Ashvins entering Mandara. What words did Rama speak, what did Lakshmana say, and what did Maithili utter, Sumanta, upon reaching the forest? Tell me, charioteer, of Rama’s sitting, lying, and eating; by this I shall live, just as Yayati lived among the virtuous.” Thus urged by the king, Sumantra prepared himself and spoke to Dasaratha, his words bound by tears. He recounted how the great king’s son, always upholding righteousness, Raghava, had made a gesture of reverence, bowing his head. “Charioteer, by my words, to his father, who knows himself, whose head is worthy of reverence, let the feet of the great-souled one be honored. Let the entire inner palace be addressed, charioteer, by my words; let health be wished for all without distinction, and proper salutations offered.