In the absence of a king, a land loses its vibrancy and order. No longer do actors and dancers grace the streets, nor do joyful festivals and prosperous gatherings take place. The pursuits of merchants falter, and those who delight in tales find no stories to gladden their hearts. In such a kingdom, adorned maidens do not gather to play in the gardens as evening falls, and men do not venture into the forests with swift chariots and their beloved companions. Safety vanishes for the wealthy and for those who make their living from farming or cattle; they cannot sleep peacefully with their doors open. The royal roads, once alive with the stately tread of ornamented elephants, become empty. The constant twang of bowstrings and the sounds of arrows in the training grounds are silenced. Merchants who travel far, even those who have performed many meritorious deeds, cannot journey safely. Even solitary ascetics do not walk freely in contemplation, nor do sages return home at dusk. Security and welfare are lost, and the army cannot stand firm against enemies. Men no longer assemble in splendor with their horses and chariots, and those skilled in the scriptures do not prosper, whether in forests or groves. Offerings, garlands, and sweets for the gods are not prepared by disciplined hands, and royal princes no longer shine, adorned with sandalwood and perfumes, like trees blossoming in spring. A kingdom without a king is like a river without water, a forest without grass, or cows without a herdsman. The king is the banner of the people, just as a banner marks a chariot or smoke reveals fire; he is a sign of divinity among men. Without a king, nothing truly belongs to anyone; like fish in water, men prey upon each other. Even those who break boundaries, who are atheists or full of doubts, are brought to order by the king’s justice. The king is to his people what sight is to the body: the source of truth and righteousness. He embodies truth and virtue, is the noble lineage itself, and is both mother and father to his subjects—their benefactor and protector. In greatness of conduct, a noble king surpasses even Yama, Kubera, Indra, and mighty Varuna. Without a king, the world would be plunged in darkness, unable to distinguish good from evil. So long as the great king lives, the people remain obedient, just as the ocean stays within its shores. But now, seeing the conduct of the people, the kingdom is like a wilderness without a ruler. Therefore, it is fitting that the generous prince, the son of Ikshvaku, be crowned king. With these words, the sixty-eighth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa in the Ayodhyā section begins. Hearing the concerns of all, the sage Vasiṣṭha addressed the friends, ministers, and Brāhmaṇas. He said, “Since Bharata is now living happily in his maternal uncle’s city, in the royal palace with his brother Śatrughna, let swift messengers go at once with fast horses to bring back these two heroic brothers. Why should we delay?” The assembly agreed, urging Vasiṣṭha to send the messengers. Vasiṣṭha then called out, “Come, Siddhārtha, Vijaya, Jayanta, Aśoka, and Nandana—listen to what you must do. Go swiftly to the city and the royal palace with the fastest horses, leaving sorrow behind, and say this to Bharata on my behalf: ‘The chief priest and all the ministers send their greetings. Depart at once with haste; an urgent matter awaits you.’ But do not tell him that Rāma has gone into exile, nor that his father has died; only inform him of this summons to the house of the Raghus. Take with you fine silk garments and splendid ornaments for the king and for Bharata, and go.” After eating food suited for their journey, the messengers returned to their homes to prepare. When all was ready, and with Vasiṣṭha’s permission, they performed the departure rites and set out in haste. Traveling north along the western bank of the long Aparaṭāla, they crossed the Mālinī river at its center. Then, passing over the Gaṅgā at Hastināpura, they turned westward, reaching the land of Pañāla and journeying through the Kurujāṅgala region. Along the way, they saw lakes and rivers full and clear, and, intent on their mission, pressed onward with speed. At last, they reached the pure, divine waters of the Śaradaṇḍā river, alive with many kinds of birds and crowded with people.