Surrounded by moats piled high with sand and guarded by posts as mighty as Indra’s celestial machinery, the city gleamed with splendid main gates. Its beauty was further enhanced by rows of palaces and grand mansions, all enclosed within strong walls adorned with fluttering flags. Broad, well-constructed roads ran throughout, and the tall buildings, with their upper stories seeming to glide through the sky, gave the settlements an appearance like the city of Indra himself. As one approached the Ganges, the river’s banks were graced with various groves of trees. The cool, pure waters teemed with great fish, offering a tranquil and abundant scene. The royal road, delightful and skillfully built, shone in succession, just as the spotless night sky sparkles when adorned with the moon and stars. Now, hear the next sarga in the Ayodhya Kanda of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. During an auspicious night, bards and minstrels gathered to praise Bharata, offering him words of blessing and songs filled with good omens. The hour-drum, edged with gold, resounded through the city, while hundreds of conches were blown and musical instruments played notes both high and low. Yet, the great sound that filled the sky only deepened Bharata’s sorrow, for his heart was already heavy with grief. Awakened by the noise, Bharata halted it and declared, “I am not king.” Turning to Shatrughna, he spoke with pain, “See, Shatrughna, what great harm my mother Kaikeyi has done to the people. Abandoning me to sorrow, King Dasharatha has departed this world. The royal fortune of that righteous, high-souled king, rooted in dharma, now wanders aimlessly, like a rudderless boat on water. Even Rama, our mighty protector, has been banished to the forest by my mother, who has abandoned righteousness.” Seeing Bharata lament so, distraught and pitiable, all the women present wept aloud in sympathy. As his grief filled the hall, the illustrious Vasishta, knower of royal duty, entered the assembly of the Ikshvaku lord. The sage entered the splendid hall made of polished clay, adorned with gems and jewels, resembling the celestial Sudharma and filled with attendants. Vasishta, knower of all the Vedas, sat upon a golden throne covered with the finest cloth and gave instructions to the messengers: “Quickly and without delay, bring here the Brahmins, Kshatriyas, warriors, ministers, and leaders of the people, for we have urgent business. Bring Shatrughna, loyal to the king, the illustrious Bharata, Yudhajit, Sumantra, and all those loyal people present here.” A great tumult arose as people arrived in chariots, on horses, and on elephants. When Bharata entered, the people welcomed him as the gods would welcome Indra, just as they had once welcomed Dasharatha. The assembly, adorned by Dasharatha’s son, shone like a serene lake filled with mighty aquatic creatures, its waters still, and its banks studded with gems, shells, and pebbles—just as it had once shone with Dasharatha himself. Now begins the next sarga in the Ayodhya Kanda of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Bharata, wise in understanding, saw the assembly hall filled with noble elders, and it was as if the night had been brightened by the full moon. As the elders entered and took their seats in due order, the hall appeared like a clear night with the full moon after the clouds had parted. The splendid assembly, filled with learned men, shone with the radiance of wisdom and virtue. When all the royal counselors, versed in righteousness, had assembled, the chief priest Vasishta gently spoke to Bharata: “Dear child, King Dasharatha has gone to heaven, having upheld righteousness, after giving you the prosperous earth, rich in wealth and grain. Rama, steadfast in truth and resolve, remembering the duty of the virtuous, did not abandon his father’s command, just as the moon does not forsake its light when risen. The kingdom, now free of thorns, was given to you by your father and your brother; enjoy it with joyful ministers and quickly perform the consecration. Let those from the north, west, pure southerners, and those at the farthest ocean-bound frontiers bring you treasures and jewels.” Hearing these words, Bharata, overwhelmed by grief and devoted to righteousness, turned his thoughts to Rama, longing for what is right. With a voice choked with tears, soft as the call of a young swan, he lamented before the assembly and reproached the chief priest: “Who would take the kingdom from one such as Rama—devoted to discipline, learned, wise, and striving in righteousness—someone like me? How could one born of Dasharatha become a usurper of the kingdom? Both the kingdom and I belong to Rama; you ought to declare what is right here. Rama, eldest and best, righteous in soul, equal to Dilipa and Nahusha, deserves the kingdom just as Dasharatha did. If I were to commit such a sinful act, unworthy of the noble, leading to no heaven, I would become a disgrace to the Ikshvaku line in the world. I do not approve of the wrong done by my mother; here I stand, with joined palms, to bow to Rama, though he dwells in the remote forest. I will follow only Rama, who is king and best among men; Raghava deserves the kingdom of all three worlds.” Hearing these words, filled with righteousness, all the members of the assembly shed tears of joy, their hearts united in love and longing for Rama.