As Kausalya, overwhelmed by grief, collapsed to the ground in lamentation before her husband, her cries echoed through the palace. Witnessing her sorrow and the king’s suffering, all the women of the inner chambers raised their voices in anguish, their wails resounding loudly. The sounds of mourning rose from the palace and spread throughout the city, stirring both the elders and the young men, as well as all the women, into tears. In that moment, Ayodhya was once again plunged into turmoil, shaken by the collective sorrow of its people. After some time, when the king regained his senses from the haze of grief and confusion, he summoned the charioteer, eager to hear news of Rama. The charioteer, his heart heavy with sorrow for Rama, approached the great king with joined palms, his face etched with distress. He saw before him the aged monarch, deeply afflicted, sighing restlessly like a wounded elephant, his suffering as palpable as one seized by a powerful fate. Noting the charioteer’s dust-covered limbs, tear-stained face, and dejected demeanor, the king spoke to him in utter anguish: “Where will the righteous Rama dwell now, taking shelter at the root of a tree? What will he, so exceedingly fortunate, eat in the wilderness? Unaccustomed to hardship, used only to a comfortable bed, how does my son, Sumanta, now sleep on the bare ground, like one without support? He who was always followed by foot soldiers, chariots, and elephants—how will Rama live, having sought refuge in the lonely forest? “In a forest haunted by wild beasts and deer, and inhabited by black serpents, how have my two sons, together with the daughter of Videha, found their way? With gentle, ascetic Sita, Sumanta, how did the royal brothers descend from the chariot and proceed on foot? You are truly accomplished, charioteer, for you have seen my sons enter the depths of the forest, like the Ashvins entering Mandara. “Tell me, what words did Rama speak? What did Lakshmana say? And what did Maithili, Sita, utter as they reached the forest? Speak to me of Rama’s sitting, lying, and eating—by this, I shall find the will to live, just as Yayati did among the virtuous.” Thus urged by the king, the charioteer steadied himself and, with tears in his voice, began to recount what had happened. “O great king,” he said, “Rama, ever devoted to righteousness, bowed his head and made a gesture of reverence. He asked me to convey these words to his father, whose head is worthy of honor: ‘Charioteer, by my words, let my father’s feet be honored, for he is wise and self-knowing.’ “He also asked that the entire inner palace be addressed on his behalf, wishing health for all without distinction and offering proper salutations. He told me to greet and salute his mother Kausalya, to urge her to be vigilant, and to say: ‘Always devoted to righteousness, attend to the sacred fire at the proper time, and guard the feet of the lord like those of a god. Abandon pride and arrogance, behave properly toward the mothers, and honor Queen Kaikeyi as one would a mother. Treat Prince Bharata as you would a king, for kings are foremost in wealth—remember the royal duty.’ “He asked that Bharata be greeted and his words conveyed: ‘In all ways, act toward the mothers as is proper. Preserve the kingdom while your father holds royal power. The king, advanced in years, instructed me: Do not hinder Bharata from ruling as prince; live on and carry out only his commands.’ “Rama also said, with tears flowing: ‘You must see my mother, who longs for her son, as you would your own mother.’ “As Rama spoke thus, his eyes reddened like lotuses, and he wept intensely. Then Lakshmana, deeply angered, sighed and asked, ‘For what offense has the prince been exiled? Relying on Queen Kaikeyi’s command, the king has done this—right or wrong—by which we have all been oppressed. If Rama has been exiled out of greed or to grant boons, in any case, a wrongful act has been committed. This was done only to satisfy the will of the ruler, but as for abandoning Rama, I see no justification at all. This exile of Raghava, undertaken without due consideration and contrary to reason, will only cause public outcry. As for me, O great king, I do not recognize any fatherhood; for Raghava is my brother, lord, kinsman, and father. Having abandoned one beloved by all and devoted to everyone’s welfare, how will the world remain attached to you after such an act? By exiling Rama, who delights all people and is righteous, how will you remain king, having opposed the entire world?’ “As for Janaki, O great king, she stood motionless, steadfast in her vows, sighing deeply, her mind struck down by sorrow. The illustrious princess, who had never before known such misfortune, wept in her grief and did not speak a word to me. She gazed at her husband, her face parched by sorrow, and as I departed, she suddenly shed tears. In the same way, Rama, his face wet with tears and his hands joined in reverence, stood protected by Lakshmana’s arm. Sita, steadfast and weeping, kept her gaze fixed on the royal chariot and on me as I left them behind in the forest.