The greatness of the noble king shone so brightly that even mighty deities—Yama, Kubera, Indra, and Varuna—were surpassed by his extraordinary conduct. Without such a king to distinguish right from wrong, the world itself would be plunged into utter darkness, with nothing discernible, no goodness or evil to be known. While this great king lived, all the people followed only his command, just as the vast ocean faithfully remains within its bounds. Yet now, O best of the twice-born, seeing the state of affairs, it seemed as if the kingdom had become a wilderness, bereft of its king. Only the generous prince, the son of Ikshvaku, should be crowned here, and it was for you to make this so. Now begins the sixty-eighth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa in the Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Hearing these earnest words, the sage Vasiṣṭha addressed all the assembled friends, ministers, and Brāhmaṇas. He said, “Since Bharata now resides happily in his maternal uncle’s city, living in the royal palace with his brother Śatrughna, let swift messengers go at once, mounted on the fastest horses, to bring back those two heroic brothers. Why should we delay any longer?” All those present agreed, urging Vasiṣṭha to send the messengers immediately. Vasiṣṭha then called forth Siddhārtha, Vijaya, Jayanta, Aśoka, and Nandana, instructing them: “Go swiftly to that city and palace with the best horses, leaving behind all sorrow, and say this to Bharata on my behalf: ‘The chief priest and all the ministers send you their greetings. Come at once, for an urgent matter awaits you.’ But do not tell him that Rāma has been exiled, nor that his father has died. Only summon him to the house of the Raghus. Take with you fine silk garments and splendid ornaments for the king and for Bharata, and set out.” The messengers, after eating food suited for the journey, returned to their homes and prepared to depart for Kekaya, mounting their approved horses. They performed the rites for departure and, having completed all necessary tasks, received Vasiṣṭha’s permission and set out in haste. Their journey took them northward along the western bank of the long Aparaṭāla. They crossed the Mālinī river at its midpoint, and after crossing the Gaṅgā at Hastināpura, they traveled westward, reaching the land of Pañāla and passing through the Kurujāṅgala region. Along the way, they saw lakes and rivers filled with pure water and, intent on their mission, journeyed swiftly. Soon they reached the clear, divine Śaradaṇḍā river, alive with many kinds of birds and bustling with people. Arriving at the grove of Nikūla trees—a sacred place where wishes are fulfilled—they paid their respects and then entered the city of Kuliṅga. At the right time, they came to the holy river Ikṣumatī, sacred to their ancestors and flowing from the Bodhibhavana. Passing through the land of Bāhlīka and the mountain called Sudāmāna, they saw Brāhmaṇas learned in the Vedas drinking water with cupped hands. They beheld the abode of Vishnu, crossed the Vipāśā and Śālmālī rivers, and observed many rivers, ponds, lakes, marshes, and pools along their way. Their path led them through forests where lions, tigers, deer, and elephants roamed, but they pressed on, eager to fulfill their master’s command. Though their horses grew weary from the long journey, the messengers reached the finest city—a mountain settlement—without delay. For the sake of their master’s pleasure, the protection of the royal family, and the preservation of the lineage, the messengers, undeterred and hurrying, arrived at the city during the night. Now begins the sixty-ninth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. On that very night when the messengers entered the city, Bharata too was troubled by a disturbing dream. When dawn broke and he recalled the troubling visions, the son of the great king was deeply distressed. His dear friends, noticing his sorrow, gathered in the assembly and sought to cheer him. Some told stories, others played music, some danced, and others performed comedies and plays. Yet, surrounded by friends speaking kindly and making jokes, the noble Bharata found no joy. One close friend, seated among the companions, asked gently, “My friend, why do you not take pleasure?” Bharata replied, “Listen, and I will tell you the cause of this sadness that has befallen me. In a dream, I saw my father—unkempt, with loosened hair—falling from a mountain peak into a muddy, filthy pool. I saw him floating there, repeatedly drinking oil with his hands, as if laughing again and again. Then, after eating rice balls made of sesame, his head hanging down and his whole body smeared with oil, he immersed himself in oil again and again.” He continued, “In my dream I saw the ocean dried up, the moon fallen to the earth, and the blazing fire suddenly extinguished. The tusk of the royal elephant was shattered, and the blazing fire was suddenly extinguished.” Thus, Bharata’s heart was filled with ominous foreboding, even as the messengers arrived in the city by night.