In the absence of a king, the land becomes bereft of its customary splendor. People no longer gather swiftly, adorned with magnificent horses and chariots, for there is no sovereign to inspire such assemblies. Those learned in the sacred scriptures, whether dwelling in forests or groves, find themselves deprived of prosperity, lacking the guiding hand of a ruler. Even disciplined folk, who once prepared garlands, sweets, and offerings for the worship of the gods, neglect these rituals when there is no king to uphold order. The royal princes, who would shine resplendent, adorned with sandalwood, aloe, and fragrant perfumes—like blossoming trees in spring—lose their luster in a kingdom without a king. Just as rivers run dry, forests lose their grass, and cows wander without herdsmen, so too does a realm descend into disorder without its sovereign. The king is the kingdom’s banner, as a flag is to a chariot or smoke is to fire; he is the sign of order and divinity among his people. Without a king, possessions are uncertain; nothing truly belongs to anyone, and men prey upon each other like fish in a pond. Those who break boundaries, who doubt or deny the gods, are brought to order only through the king’s discipline. Just as the eyes guide the body, so does the king uphold truth and righteousness in the land. He embodies truth and virtue, stands as the noble lineage’s pillar, and is both mother and father to his subjects—a true benefactor of humanity. By his noble conduct, a great king surpasses even Yama, Kubera, Indra, and mighty Varuna. Without a king to discern good from evil, the world would be plunged into utter darkness, and nothing would be known. While the great king lives, the people follow his command, just as the ocean remains within its bounds. Thus, the kingdom, seeing its conduct, has become like a wilderness without a king. The generous prince, the son of Ikshvaku, should be crowned by you, O best of twice-born. Now begins the sixty-eighth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Ayodhyā section. Hearing these words, the sage Vasiṣṭha addressed the friends, ministers, and Brāhmaṇas gathered before him. He spoke of Bharata, who was living happily in his maternal uncle’s city, in the royal palace, together with his brother Śatrughna. Vasiṣṭha urged that swift messengers should go at once, riding fast horses, to bring back these two heroic brothers—why should they delay? All present agreed, and Vasiṣṭha spoke again, summoning Siddhārtha, Vijaya, Jayanta, Aśoka, and Nandana. He instructed them to go quickly to the city and palace with the fastest horses, leaving behind sorrow, and to deliver his message to Bharata: “The chief priest and all the ministers send you their greetings. Depart at once with haste; an urgent matter awaits you.” He cautioned them not to reveal that Rāma had gone into exile or that their father had died, but to simply inform Bharata of his summons to the house of the Raghus. The messengers were told to take fine silk garments and splendid ornaments for the king and for Bharata. After eating food suited for their journey, they returned to their homes, preparing to depart for Kekaya, mounting their approved horses. Performing the departure rites and completing their tasks, the messengers, permitted by Vasiṣṭha, set out in haste. Traveling northward along the western bank of the long Aparaṭāla, they crossed the Mālinī river midway. After crossing the Gaṅgā at Hastināpura, they went westward, reaching Pañāla and passing through the Kurujāṅgala region. Along the way, they observed lakes and rivers full of pure water, and, intent on their mission, traveled swiftly. With speed, they reached the clear, divine Śaradaṇḍā river, frequented by many birds and crowded with people. Arriving at the grove of Nikūla trees, a sacred place where wishes are fulfilled, they entered, paid their respects, and continued to the city of Kuliṅga. At the proper time, they reached the holy river Ikṣumatī, sacred to their ancestors and flowing from Bodhibhavana. Passing through the land of Bāhlīka and the mountain called Sudāmāna, they saw Brāhmaṇas drinking water with cupped hands, learned in the Vedas. They beheld the abode of Vishnu, as well as the Vipāśā and Śālmālī rivers, and saw many rivers, ponds, lakes, marshes, and pools. Observing lions, tigers, deer, and elephants along the great road, they pressed onward, eager to fulfill their master’s command. Their vehicles exhausted from the long journey, the messengers finally reached the best city, a mountain settlement, without delay. For their master’s pleasure, the protection of the family, and the preservation of their master’s lineage, the messengers, undeterred and hurrying, arrived at the city during the night. Now begins the sixty-ninth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. On that very night when the messengers entered the city, Bharata had an unpleasant dream. When the night had passed and he recalled that troubling vision, the son of the great king was deeply distressed.