As Bharata sat surrounded by his companions, they sought to lift his spirits in every way they could. Some played gentle music to soothe him, others danced with grace, and still others performed lively plays and comedies. Friends gathered near him, speaking kindly and making jokes, but despite their efforts, the noble Bharata found no joy. Among his dear friends, one, seated close, asked gently, “My friend, why do you not take pleasure in all this?” Bharata responded with quiet gravity, “Listen to the reason for this sadness that has come upon me.” He began to recount a troubling dream: “I saw my father in a vision, his hair unkempt and loose, 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 down, his whole body smeared with oil, and he immersed himself in oil again and again.” The dream grew even more ominous. “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 fire was snuffed out. 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. Rushing forth, 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’s voice trembled as he revealed, “Thus I saw this terrifying night; either I, Rama, the king, or Lakshmana will die. For 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 your efforts; 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. I feel 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.” As Bharata spoke of his dream, messengers arrived at the splendid royal palace and city, their horses weary after crossing the impassable moat. Having met the king and his son and been honored, they took hold of the king’s feet and addressed Bharata. “The priest has conveyed his well-wishes to you, as have all the ministers. Depart quickly, for urgent duty awaits you. Receive these precious garments and ornaments, O wide-eyed one, and give them to your maternal uncle. Here are twenty crores from the king for your maternal uncle, and ten crores for you, the king’s son.” Bharata accepted these gifts, affectionate toward his friends, and honored the messengers with his wishes. He asked anxiously, “Is my father, King Dasharatha, well? Has any harm befallen Rama or the great-souled Lakshmana? Is noble Kausalya, devoted to righteousness and wise in dharma, free from illness—the mother of wise Rama? Is Sumitra, knowledgeable in dharma, the mother of Lakshmana and the heroic Shatrughna, also free from illness? My mother Kaikeyi, ever self-willed, fierce, quick to anger, wise, and proud, and even in good health—what did she say to me?” The messengers replied respectfully, “O tiger among men, those for whom you wish well are well. Fortune and the lotus goddess choose you, and may your protection be secured.” Bharata, thus spoken to, said, “I will take leave of the great king; the messengers urge me to hurry.” Prompted by their words, he addressed his maternal grandfather, “O King, urged by the messengers, I will go to my father’s presence; I will return again whenever you remember me.” His maternal grandfather embraced Bharata’s head, speaking auspicious words: “Go, dear child, I permit you. Kaikeyi is blessed with a son like you. Convey my well-wishes to your mother and your father, the supreme ascetic. Also greet the priest, and all other excellent twice-born men; and, dear child, those two mighty archers, your brothers Rama and Lakshmana.” After honoring Bharata, the Kaikeyan gave him the best elephant, fine blankets, and skins as wealth. The Kekaya king ordered two thousand gold coins and sixteen hundred horses as gifts for Kaikeyi’s son. Likewise, the lord of horses quickly gave Bharata trusted and virtuous ministers, as desired attendants. Thus, with heavy heart and laden with gifts, Bharata prepared to depart, his mind troubled by ominous visions and his duty calling him home.