Having arranged the mighty army in splendid formation along the sacred banks of the Ganga, Bharata, ever mindful of his elder brother Rama’s return, remained there surrounded by his noble counselors and followers. The encampment, with its gleaming arms and banners, stretched out grandly beside the river, a sight to behold. Meanwhile, in a nearby settlement, Guha, the chief of the Nishadas, beheld the vast army lining the river’s edge. Turning swiftly to his kinsmen, he spoke with urgency, “Look at this great host, shining like the boundless ocean! Even after much thought, I cannot see its end. Bharata himself has come, his chariot marked by the kovidāra tree banner. Perhaps he means to bind us, or even slay us. Or, since Rama, son of Dasharatha, was exiled by his father, Bharata—Kaikeyi’s son—may be seeking the rare fortune of kingship, possibly coming to kill Rama.” Guha’s heart was troubled, for he considered Rama both his lord and his friend. He resolved, “For Rama’s sake, let all who are devoted to him stand ready here on the riverbank. Let the strong and able Nishadas who dwell along the Ganga remain vigilant, guarding the river and living on meat, roots, and fruits. Let five hundred youthful, well-armed boatmen be stationed, a hundred for each hundred boats. When Bharata is satisfied with Rama here, then this great army, blessed with good fortune, may cross the Ganga today.” Having made these arrangements and gathering gifts of fish, meat, and honey, Guha approached Bharata’s camp. As he drew near, Sumantra, the wise charioteer, informed Bharata, “Here comes Guha, the chief, surrounded by a thousand kinsmen, skilled in the Dandaka forest, elder, and your brother’s friend. Let him see you, for he surely knows where Rama and Lakshmana are.” Hearing these auspicious words, Bharata quickly agreed, “Let Guha come before me.” With permission granted, Guha, delighted and accompanied by his kin, approached Bharata and bowed low, offering his gifts and words: “This is our settlement, but we too have been unsettled. We inform you—remain here among your own retinue. We have brought roots, fruits, fresh and dried meat, and wild foods in abundance. May your army, having eaten, spend this night here, honored and content, and tomorrow you may proceed with your host.” Bharata, wise and discerning, replied to Guha with gentle and purposeful words, “O friend of my teacher, your wish is fulfilled. You alone desire to honor such a great army of mine.” Then, radiant in might, Bharata asked, “By which path should I go to Bharadvāja’s hermitage, O Guha? This region is dense, and the Ganga’s bank is hard to cross.” Guha, expert in the ways of the forest, folded his hands and replied, “Our skilled bowmen will accompany you, and I myself will follow, O prince of great fame. Yet, tell me truly, do you approach Rama, whose deeds are blameless, with any ill intent? The sight of your great army causes me some doubt.” To this, Bharata answered with words as clear as the sky, “Let such a misfortune never occur! Do not suspect me, Guha. Raghava is my elder brother, equal to my father. I am only going to bring back Kakutstha, who dwells in the forest. Do not think otherwise—I speak the truth to you.” Hearing Bharata’s sincere and gentle words, Guha’s heart was filled with joy. He exclaimed, “Blessed are you! I see no one on earth equal to you, who would renounce a kingdom that has come to you unbidden. Surely your fame will follow you through all the worlds, for you seek to restore Rama, who has fallen into hardship.” As Guha and Bharata spoke, the sun’s brilliance faded and night drew near. Guha, satisfied with the arrangements for the army, withdrew with Shatrughna to their resting place. Yet, as the camp settled into evening, a deep sorrow, born of anxious thought, descended upon the great-souled Bharata—though he deserved no such grief, being so devoted to righteousness. An inner burning tormented him, like a hidden fire scorching a tree parched by the forest blaze. Sweat, born from the fire of grief, streamed from his limbs, as the Himalaya, heated by the sun, releases its snow. His mind became a mountain cavern, filled with sighs as its minerals, surrounded by the dejected multitude of trees, and crowned with the peaks of sorrow and fatigue. Thus, Bharata spent the night, his heart heavy with longing and concern for his exiled brother.