Vasiṣṭha, the revered chief priest, gathered the trusted messengers—Siddhārtha, Vijaya, Jayanta, Aśoka, and Nandana—and addressed them with urgency. “Come, all of you, and listen closely to what must now be done,” he said. “You must ride swiftly to the city and the royal palace, choosing the fastest horses and leaving behind all sorrow. When you arrive, convey this message to Bharata on my behalf: ‘The chief priest and all the ministers send you their greetings. Depart at once with haste; an urgent matter awaits you.’ But remember, do not reveal to him that Rāma has gone into exile, nor that his father has passed away. Only inform him that he is summoned to the house of the Raghus. And quickly—take with you fine silk garments and splendid ornaments for both the king and Bharata.” The messengers, after partaking of food suitable for their journey, returned to their homes to prepare for departure to Kekaya. They mounted their chosen horses, performed the necessary departure rites, and completed their remaining tasks. With Vasiṣṭha’s permission, they set out in great haste. Their route took them northward along the western bank of the long Aparaṭāla, and they crossed the Mālinī river midway. Pressing onward, they crossed the sacred Gaṅgā at Hastināpura, then turned west, entering the land of Pañāla and passing through the Kurujāṅgala region. Along their journey, they beheld lakes and rivers full of pure water, and their determination to fulfill their mission never wavered. Riding with speed, they reached the clear and divine Śaradaṇḍā river, alive with many kinds of birds and bustling with people. Soon after, they arrived at a grove of Nikūla trees, a sacred place believed to fulfill wishes. There, they offered their respects before entering the city of Kuliṅga. Timing their journey wisely, they next reached the holy river Ikṣumatī, sacred to their ancestors and flowing from the Bodhibhavana. Along the way, they saw Brāhmaṇas—learned in the Vedas—drinking water with cupped hands. They passed through the land of Bāhlīka and by the mountain Sudāmāna, glimpsing the abode of Vishnu and the rivers Vipāśā and Śālmālī. Their eyes took in rivers, ponds, lakes, marshes, and pools, and the forests teemed with lions, tigers, deer, and elephants. The messengers pressed onward along the great road, eager to fulfill their master’s command. Though their horses grew weary from the long journey, the messengers did not delay. They reached the finest city—a mountain settlement—swiftly and without faltering. For the sake of their master’s pleasure, the protection of the royal family, and the preservation of their lineage, the messengers, undeterred and hurrying, arrived at the city by night. Now begins the sixty-ninth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. On that very night, as the messengers entered the city, Bharata was troubled by a disturbing dream. When dawn broke and he recalled the unsettling visions, the son of the great king felt deep distress. His dear friends, noticing his sorrow, gathered around him, hoping to lift his spirits. Some began to tell stories in the assembly, while others played music, danced, and performed plays and comedies. Yet, despite the warmth and efforts of his companions, the noble Bharata could not find joy. One of his closest friends, seated among the group, gently asked, “My friend, why do you not take pleasure in our company?” Bharata replied, “Listen to the reason for the sadness that has come over me.” He described his dream: “I saw my father, unkempt, with hair loosened, falling from a mountain peak into a muddy, filthy pool. There, he floated, repeatedly drinking oil with his hands, as if laughing again and again. Then, after eating rice balls made of sesame, his head hung low, his body smeared with oil, he immersed himself in oil again and again. I saw the ocean dried up, the moon fallen to earth, and a blazing fire suddenly extinguished. The tusk of the royal elephant was shattered, and the fire was snuffed out. The earth split open, many trees dried up, and mountains were scattered and smoking. Seated on an iron throne, dressed in black, my father was mocked by women of dark and tawny complexion. Then, adorned with red garlands and ointments, he departed facing south in a chariot yoked with donkeys. It seemed as if a woman in red attire, a demoness with a distorted posture, was dragging him away.” Bharata concluded, “This terrifying night vision fills me with dread. Either I, Rama, the king, or Lakshmana will die. They say that a man who, in a dream, travels in a vehicle drawn by donkeys soon sees the smoke of the funeral pyre. Because of this omen, I am distressed and cannot honor your company; my throat is parched, and my mind is not at ease. I see no cause for fear, yet I feel it; my voice has lost its resonance, my shadow is diminished. I feel a strange disgust toward myself, though I know not why. The ill-omened dream, with its many forms and unpredictable course, fills my heart with great fear, as I ponder the king’s incomprehensible appearance.