Following the instructions of Vasiṣṭha, the chief priest, a group of royal messengers was summoned and told to hurry to the city and palace of the Kekaya kingdom. They were to travel swiftly, using the fastest horses, setting aside any sorrow or hesitation. Vasiṣṭha gave them a message to deliver to Bharata, the son of King Daśaratha: “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 disclose anything about Rāma’s exile or the king’s death. Their task was only to inform Bharata of the summons to the house of the Raghus. Vasiṣṭha also instructed them to take with them fine silk garments and splendid ornaments for both the king and Bharata. After eating food appropriate for their journey, the messengers returned to their homes, preparing themselves and mounting their approved horses for the long trip to Kekaya. Once the departure rites were performed and all remaining tasks completed, the messengers, with Vasiṣṭha’s permission, set out in haste. Their route led them northward along the western bank of the long Aparaṭāla, crossing the Mālinī river midway. They crossed the Gaṅgā at Hastināpura, then turned westward, reaching the land of Pañāla and passing through the region known as Kurujāṅgala. Along the way, they saw lakes and rivers full and pure, their hearts intent on fulfilling their mission. They sped onward to the clear, divine Śaradaṇḍā river, which was alive with many kinds of 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 then continued into the city of Kuliṅga. At the right time, they reached the holy river Ikṣumatī, sacred to their ancestors and flowing from Bodhibhavana. They observed Brāhmaṇas, learned in the Vedas, drinking water with cupped hands. Passing through the land of Bāhlīka and the mountain called Sudāmāna, they beheld the abode of Vishnu, as well as the Vipāśā and Śālmālī rivers. They saw rivers, ponds, lakes, marshes, and pools, and encountered various lions, tigers, deer, and elephants as they pressed onward along the great road, eager to fulfill their master’s command. Despite the exhaustion of their vehicles from the long journey, the messengers reached the best city—the mountain settlement—without delay. Their urgency was driven by loyalty to their master, the protection of his family, and the preservation of his lineage. Undeterred, they arrived at the city during the night. Now begins the sixty-ninth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. That very night, as the messengers entered the city, Bharata himself was troubled by a disturbing dream. When dawn broke and he recalled the dream, the son of the great king felt a deep distress. His dear friends, noticing his sorrow, gathered in the assembly and tried to ease his mind. Some told stories, others played music to soothe him, some danced, and others performed plays and comedies. Yet, surrounded by friends speaking kindly and making jokes, the noble Bharata found no joy. One close companion, seated among the others, asked Bharata, “My friend, why do you not take pleasure?” To this, Bharata replied, “Listen to the reason for this sadness that has come upon me.” He described his dream: “I saw my father, unkempt and with loosened hair, falling from a mountain peak into a muddy, filthy pool. He floated in that pool, drinking oil with his hands, laughing again and again. After eating rice balls made of sesame, his head hung down, his whole body smeared with oil, he immersed himself in oil again and again.” Bharata continued, “In my dream, I saw the ocean dried up, the moon fallen to earth, and blazing fire suddenly extinguished. The tusk of the royal elephant was shattered, and again, fire was extinguished. I saw the earth split open, many trees dried up, and mountains scattered and smoking. Seated on an iron throne, dressed in black garments, the king was laughed at by women with dark and tawny complexions. Hastening, righteous in nature, adorned with red garlands and ointments, he departed facing south in a chariot yoked with donkeys. It seemed as though a woman in red attire, a demoness with distorted posture, was dragging the king away.” Bharata confessed, “This terrifying night leads me to believe that either I, Rāma, the king, or Lakṣmaṇa will die. A man who, in a dream, travels in a vehicle drawn by donkeys soon sees the tip of smoke on the funeral pyre. Because of this omen, I am distressed and do not honor you; my throat feels parched and my mind is not at ease. I do not see any cause for fear, yet I perceive fear; my voice has lost its resonance and my shadow is diminished. As if feeling disgust toward myself, though I see no reason; hearing of this ill-omened dream, with its many forms and unforeseen course, great fear does not leave my heart, pondering the king’s incomprehensible appearance.” Thus concludes the sixtieth chapter in the Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.