As Bharata returned to Ayodhya and beheld the sorrow that had overtaken the city, he approached the lifeless body of King Dasharatha, his heart heavy with grief and questions. With deep anguish, he addressed the departed king: “O father, what did you resolve, exiling righteous Rāma and mighty Lakṣmaṇa while I was away and had not yet returned? Where will you go, great king, leaving behind these sorrowful people, deprived of Rāma, the lion among men, whose deeds are blameless? Who will ensure your city’s welfare and security now, 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 appears to me the same.” As Bharata lamented thus, his mind cast down, the venerable sage Vasiṣṭha spoke to him gently, urging, “Whatever funeral rites must be performed for this lord of men, let them be done promptly, mighty-armed one, without hesitation.” Bharata, honoring Vasiṣṭha’s wise counsel, replied, “So be it,” and quickly summoned all the priests, family chaplains, and teachers. Those who had been stationed outside the fire-chamber of the king were led away by the officiating priests and sacrificers, who followed the proper rites. The attendants, their throats choked with tears and minds distressed, placed the king’s body upon a bier in Shibilā and carried him away. People went ahead of the procession, scattering gold, ornaments, and various garments along the path in reverence and mourning. Others gathered sandalwood, aloe, resin, pine, lotus wood, and divine woods, preparing the funeral pyre. After offering fragrant substances, both rare and common, the priests placed the king in the midst of the pyre. They then offered the prescribed oblations and recited prayers, while the singers of the Sāma Veda chanted sacred hymns according to scripture. The king’s wives, accompanied by elders, departed from the city in palanquins and carriages, befitting their status. The priests performed the funeral rites for the king, and the women, led by Kausalyā, were consumed by grief. The sound of their lamentation rose like the cries of cranes, thousands of anguished voices filling the air. Overwhelmed and weeping, the noble women descended from their vehicles to the bank of the Sarayu, lamenting again and again. Together with Bharata, the king’s wives, ministers, and priests performed the water rites. Then, entering the city with tear-filled eyes, all spent ten days in sorrow upon the ground. After ten days had passed and purification was completed, the king’s son, on the twelfth day, performed the funeral rites. He gave to the Brāhmaṇas abundant jewels, wealth, food, costly garments, and precious stones; he also bestowed many white blankets, hundreds of cows, male and female servants, vehicles, and grand houses, all as offerings for his father’s funeral rites. At dawn on the thirteenth day, Bharata, mighty-armed and overcome with grief, his throat choked with emotion, approached for purification. At the foot of the pyre, deeply afflicted, he spoke to his father: “When you entrusted me to Rāghava, who has 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 mother Kausalyā, where have you gone, O king? Seeing that reddish ash and the circle of burnt bones—” Beholding the extinction of his father’s body, Bharata wailed and was overcome, miserable and weeping, he fell to the ground. As he was being lifted up, he resembled the fallen banner of Indra’s chariot; then all his ministers, steadfast in purity, approached him. Shatrughna, seeing Bharata overwhelmed by grief, was reminded of the sages who saw Yayati fallen at the end of his life. Remembering the king, Shatrughna lost consciousness and fell to the ground, distraught and senseless, lamenting in deep sorrow. Recalling again and again the virtues and qualities of their father, Shatrughna was seized by fierce grief, caused by Manthara and the grasp of Kaikeyi. The ocean of sorrow, arising from the granting of boons, unfathomable, submerged him, the tender, ever-pampered boy. “O father, having abandoned Bharata, who grieves and laments, where have you gone? Was it not you who provided us with food, drink, clothing, and ornaments? You used to provide for us in all things—who will do that for us now? Yet, at the time of separation, the earth does not split apart. Deprived of you, O king, knower of righteousness and great-souled, with our father gone to heaven and Rāma dwelling in the forest—what purpose does my life serve? I will enter the fire as an offering, bereft of both brother and father, in the empty city ruled by the Ikshvakus. I will not enter Ayodhya; I will go to the ascetic forest.” Hearing their lamentation and seeing their distress, all those who followed them became even more deeply afflicted. Both Shatrughna and Bharata, exhausted and despondent, lay upon the ground, writhing like two bulls with broken horns. Then the wise and proper priest of their father approached, ready to guide them through this ocean of sorrow.