Seeing Bharata overwhelmed by grief, unconscious and tormented, uttering painful vows, Kausalya spoke to him with deep sorrow. “My son,” she said, “your oaths only add to my suffering, for as you speak them, it is as though you are taking away my very life. Yet, by good fortune, your heart—along with Lakshmana’s—remains steadfast in righteousness. My child, since you hold firm to your promises, you will surely attain the worlds reserved for the virtuous.” Having spoken these words, Kausalya gathered Bharata, who cherished his brothers, into her lap. She embraced his strong arms and wept, her grief overwhelming her. As the great-souled Bharata lamented in anguish, his mind became clouded with confusion, and he struggled to suppress his sorrow. Though others tried to comfort him, Bharata lay senseless on the ground, his wisdom lost in grief. He sighed deeply, again and again, and thus the night passed for him, immersed in sorrow. As dawn broke, the venerable sage Vasiṣṭha, foremost among speakers and sages, approached the grief-stricken Bharata, son of Kekayī. “Enough of this sorrow, noble prince of great fame,” Vasiṣṭha said gently. “Now is the proper time—perform the final rites for your father, the king.” Hearing Vasiṣṭha’s words, Bharata composed himself. Guided by righteousness, he began to arrange all that was necessary for the funeral rites. The king’s body was lifted from the oil bath and laid upon the ground; his face, drained of color, appeared as if he were merely asleep. Placed upon a splendid couch adorned with jewels, Bharata, overwhelmed by sorrow, mourned his father, the son of Daśaratha. “O king,” Bharata cried, “what did you resolve, exiling righteous Rāma and mighty Lakṣmaṇa while I was away and had not yet returned? Where will you go now, leaving behind these sorrowful people, deprived of Rāma, the lion among men, whose deeds are blameless? Who will care for your city’s welfare and security when you have departed to heaven and Rāma has gone to the forest? O king, the earth, bereft of you, shines not—like a night without the moon; the city, too, appears the same to me.” As Bharata lamented, his mind weighed down by sorrow, sage Vasiṣṭha again spoke to him: “Mighty-armed one, whatever funeral rites must be performed for this lord of men, let them be done promptly and without hesitation.” “So be it,” Bharata replied, honoring Vasiṣṭha’s words. He quickly summoned all the priests, family chaplains, and teachers. Those stationed outside the fire-chamber of the departed king were led away by the officiating priests and sacrificers, according to the proper rites. The king, his consciousness departed, was placed upon a bier in Shibilā. The attendants, their throats choked with tears and their minds distressed, carried him away. People went ahead, scattering gold, golden ornaments, and various garments along the path. Others gathered sandalwood, aloe, resin, pine, lotus wood, and divine woods to prepare the funeral pyre. After offering fragrant substances, both rare and common, the priests placed the king in the midst of the pyre. The prescribed oblations were offered, and the priests recited prayers; singers of the Sāma Veda chanted the sacred hymns according to scripture. The king’s wives, accompanied by elders, departed from the city in palanquins and carriages, as was fitting for their station. The priests performed the funeral rites for the king upon the pyre, and the women, led by Kausalyā, were consumed by grief. A great wailing arose—the sound of thousands of women, like cranes crying out in anguish, their voices filled with sorrow. Overwhelmed and weeping, the noble women descended from their vehicles to the bank of the Sarayu River. There, together with Bharata, the king’s wives, ministers, and priests performed the water rites. With tear-filled eyes, they returned to the city, where for ten days they remained in mourning, lying upon the ground. When ten days had passed and the period of purification was complete, Bharata, the king’s son, performed the final funeral rites on the twelfth day. He gave to the Brāhmaṇas abundant jewels, wealth, and food, as well as costly garments and precious stones. He also gave them many white blankets, hundreds of cows, male and female servants, vehicles, and grand houses—gifts made in honor of his father’s funeral rites. At dawn on the thirteenth day, Bharata, mighty-armed and still overcome with grief, approached the site of the pyre. His throat choked with emotion as he lamented at the foot of the pyre, addressing his father: “When you entrusted me to Rāghava, who has now gone to the forest, you abandoned me, just as a son is left behind when his protector departs for the wilderness. O dear one, having abandoned your beloved Kausalya, where have you gone, O king?” As he gazed upon the reddish ash and the circle of burnt bones, Bharata beheld the extinction of his father’s body. Overcome by grief, he wailed and wept, and, unable to bear the pain, he fell to the ground in sorrow.