In the absence of a king, a land falls into disorder. Security and the well-being of the people vanish, and armies cannot stand firm against their foes in battle. Without a sovereign, men do not gather swiftly, adorned with splendid horses and chariots, ready for action. Learned men, those skilled in the sacred scriptures, find neither prosperity nor peace, whether they dwell in forests or in groves. The rituals of worship falter—no garlands, sweets, or offerings are prepared by disciplined hands for the gods. Royal princes, too, lose their luster; they do not shine, anointed with sandalwood, aloe, and perfumed oils, as trees blossom in spring. A kingdom without a king is like rivers bereft of water, forests without grass, or cows without a herdsman—lifeless and directionless. Just as a banner marks a chariot, and smoke reveals fire, so too is the king the banner of his people, a being who has attained a touch of divinity on earth. In such a land, nothing truly belongs to anyone; like fish in water, men prey upon one another. Even those who break boundaries, who deny the divine, or are riddled with doubt, are brought to order by the king’s just punishment. The king is to his realm what sight is to the body—a source of truth and righteousness. He embodies truth and dharma, stands as the scion of noble lineage, and is both mother and father to his people, their greatest benefactor. By his noble conduct, a king surpasses even Yama, Kubera, Indra, and mighty Varuna. Without a king, the world would be plunged into utter darkness, with no one to distinguish good from evil. As long as the great king lives, all obey his command, just as the ocean remains within its bounds. Therefore, O best of the twice-born, see how our conduct reflects a kingdom that has become like a wilderness without a king. Let the generous prince, the son of Ikshvaku, be crowned king by you. Now, listen to the sixty-eighth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Ayodhyā section. Upon hearing these words, the sage Vasiṣṭha addressed the friends, ministers, and assembled Brāhmaṇas. He spoke: “Since Bharata now dwells happily in his maternal uncle’s city, residing in the royal palace along with his brother Śatrughna, let swift messengers, mounted on the fastest horses, go at once to bring back these two heroic brothers. Why should we delay?” All agreed, saying, “Let them go.” Vasiṣṭha then called out, “Come, Siddhārtha, Vijaya, Jayanta, Aśoka, and Nandana—listen to what must be done. Go swiftly to the city and palace with the fastest horses, leaving sorrow behind. Convey this message to Bharata from me: ‘The chief priest and all the ministers send you their greetings. Depart at once with haste; an urgent matter awaits you.’ But do not inform him that Rāma has gone into exile, nor that his father has passed away. Simply summon him to the house of the Raghus. Take with you fine silk garments and splendid ornaments for the king and for Bharata, and depart.” After eating food suited for their journey, the messengers returned to their homes to prepare. Mounting their chosen horses, they performed the departure rites and, having completed all necessary tasks, set out swiftly with Vasiṣṭha’s blessing. Their path took them northward along the western bank of the long Aparaṭāla, where they crossed the Mālinī river midstream. At Hastināpura, they forded the sacred Gaṅgā, then turned westward, passing through the land of Pañāla and the Kurujāṅgala region. Along the way, they beheld lakes and rivers brimming with pure water, pressing onward with purpose. They soon reached the clear, divine river Śaradaṇḍā, alive with birds and bustling with people. Entering the grove of Nikūla trees, a sacred place where wishes are fulfilled, they paid their respects before continuing to the city of Kuliṅga. At the auspicious time, they came to the holy river Ikṣumatī, sacred to their ancestors, flowing from the Bodhibhavana. They saw Brāhmaṇas drinking water with cupped hands, learned in the Vedas, and passed through the land of Bāhlīka and the Sudāmāna mountain. They beheld the abode of Vishnu, and the rivers Vipāśā and Śālmālī, passing ponds, lakes, marshes, and pools. Along the way, they saw lions, tigers, deer, and elephants, pressing along the great road, eager to fulfill their master’s command. Though their vehicles were weary from the long journey, the messengers pressed on, reaching the best of cities, a mountain settlement, without delay. Motivated by loyalty to their master, the protection of the royal family, and the preservation of the lineage, they arrived at the city during the night, undeterred and swift. Now, listen to the sixty-ninth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. On that very night, as the messengers entered the city, Bharata himself was troubled by an ominous dream.