Sumantra, the royal charioteer, swiftly dismounted from his chariot and entered the palace. Passing through seven bustling courtyards crowded with people, he made his way inward. From the windows and terraces of grand mansions, towers, and palaces, women gathered together, their voices rising in anguished cries. They looked down, their faces drawn and emaciated from longing for Rama, their eyes wide and clear but overflowing with tears. Grief so overwhelmed them that they could hardly speak, their words lost in their weeping as they gazed at one another. From within the inner chambers of King Dasaratha’s wives, Sumantra heard soft murmurs—words heavy with sorrow for Rama. The charioteer, having left for the forest with Rama but now returning alone, wondered anxiously what he could possibly say to Kausalya, who grieved so deeply for her son. He reflected that life itself seemed unbearably difficult, especially when a mother like Kausalya remained alive, enduring the pain of separation from her beloved son. Listening to the honest and heartfelt words of the king’s wives, Sumantra pressed forward, his heart burning with grief. Entering the eighth chamber, he saw King Dasaratha himself, miserable and agitated, his body faded and pale with sorrow for his son. Sumantra approached the king, who sat amidst his pain, and respectfully conveyed Rama’s message just as it had been spoken. Upon hearing Sumantra’s words, the king was struck silent. His mind, disturbed and overwhelmed by grief for Rama, gave way; he collapsed and fainted on the ground. As the lord of the earth lay unconscious, cries of alarm and anguish rang through the inner palace. The women, raising their arms in distress, lamented as the king fell. Kausalya, together with Sumitra, rushed to lift their fallen husband. With trembling voice, Kausalya addressed him: “Why do you not speak to this messenger, who has come from the forest, having accomplished such 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, collapsed to the ground, her speech choked with tears. Seeing Kausalya fallen and lamenting, and observing their husband’s state, all the women of the palace cried out loudly in despair. The commotion from the inner palace spread, and soon the elders, young men, and all the women of the city wept everywhere. Once again, Ayodhya was thrown into turmoil. When the king finally recovered his senses, he summoned Sumantra, eager to learn of Rama’s welfare. The charioteer, his hands joined in reverence, approached the grief-stricken king, filled with sorrow and distress. He saw the aged monarch, deeply afflicted, sighing and restless like a wounded elephant. King Dasaratha, seeing Sumantra’s dust-covered limbs and tear-streaked face, spoke with utmost anguish: “Where will that righteous one dwell, having taken shelter at the root of a tree? That exceedingly fortunate Raghava—what will he eat? Unaccustomed to hardship, used to a comfortable bed, how does my son sleep on the bare 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 wilderness haunted by beasts and serpents, how have my two sons, with the daughter of Videha, arrived there? With gentle, ascetic Sita, how did the royal sons descend from the chariot and proceed on foot? You are truly fortunate, Sumantra, for you have seen my 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 when you reached the forest? Tell me of Rama’s sitting, lying, and eating; by this, I shall live, just as Yayati once lived among the virtuous.” Thus urged by the king, Sumantra composed himself and spoke, his words bound with tears. He recounted how Rama, always upholding righteousness, had bowed his head in reverence and instructed: “Charioteer, by my words, offer salutations to my father—the great soul, worthy of all honor. Address the entire inner palace on my behalf: wish health to all, without distinction, and offer proper salutations. Greet my mother Kausalya, and tell her to remain vigilant. Remind her, ever devoted to righteousness, to attend to the sacred fire at the proper times, and to revere the king as a god. Let her abandon pride and arrogance, behave properly toward the mothers, and honor Queen Kaikeyi as she would her own mother. Let her treat Prince Bharata as a king, remembering the duty owed to the throne. Greet Bharata as well, and convey my words that he should always act properly toward the mothers.” Thus, Sumantra faithfully delivered Rama’s message, his heart heavy with the sorrow of separation, as the palace and city mourned together in the absence of their beloved prince.