Ordered by his father, who was swayed by the words of a woman, the illustrious Rāma had been sent to dwell in the forest for fourteen years. Now, in the hermitage of the sage Bharadvāja, the question was raised: did Bharata, Rāma’s younger brother, truly wish to act wrongly against that blameless one, seeking to rule the kingdom without hindrance alongside his own brother? Hearing these words, Bharata’s heart was overcome with grief. Tears welled in his eyes and his voice faltered as he replied to the venerable sage. “If even you, revered sir, think such thoughts of me, I am truly ruined. Please do not suspect any fault in me, nor admonish me in this way. What my mother spoke in my absence was not my wish; I do not approve of it, nor do I accept her words. I have come here only to seek the favor of that tiger among men, Rāma—to bring him back to Ayodhyā and to bow at his feet. Please, show me your kindness and tell me, O revered one, where is Rāma, the lord of the earth, now?” Urged on by Vasiṣṭha and the other priests, the sage Bharadvāja addressed Bharata with gentle words. “This conduct is worthy of you, O scion of Raghu—your reverence for elders, self-restraint, and devotion to righteousness. I know your mind is firmly set in virtue; I questioned you only to further magnify your good name. I know that Rāma, knower of dharma, is with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa—your noble brother resides on the great mountain Citrakūṭa. Tomorrow, after resting here tonight with your counselors, you may go there. Please fulfill this wish of mine, O wise and accomplished prince.” Thus reassured and noble in appearance, Bharata respectfully agreed, resolving to spend the night in the sage’s hermitage. So ends the ninetieth chapter of the glorious Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa in the sacred Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. The sage, having decided to host Bharata and his retinue, welcomed the son of Kaikeyī as a guest. Bharata, in humility, said, “Surely, revered sir, you have already performed all that is proper—foot-washing, offerings, and hospitality—as is fitting for one dwelling in the forest.” Bharadvāja smiled and replied, “I know your heart is full of affection, and you are pleased by every gesture. Yet I wish to provide food for your entire army, for my affection is as it should be, and you are worthy, O lord of men. But why have you left your forces at a distance and come here alone? Why did you not approach with your army, O best of men?” With joined palms, Bharata answered, “Revered one, I did not bring my army here out of fear of causing you any disturbance. Whether by the king or the prince, ascetics must always be carefully protected from harm within the realm. The foremost horses, men, and noble elephants follow me, covering the vast earth, but I have ordered that they not harm the trees, water, land, huts, or anything in the hermitages. Thus, I came here alone.” At the sage’s bidding, Bharata then arranged for the army to approach. Entering the fire-hall, drinking water, and purifying himself for the sake of hospitality, Bharadvāja invoked Viśvakarman, the divine architect: “I summon Viśvakarman and also Tvaṣṭṛ; I wish to perform hospitality—let this be arranged for me here. I summon the three guardians of the worlds, the gods led by Śakra; let all the rivers, those flowing eastward and westward, on earth and in the sky, come here today in every way. Let some flow with mead, others with well-prepared wine, and others with cold water sweet as sugarcane juice.” He called forth the divine Gandharvas—Viśvāvasu, Haha, and Hūhū—and all the celestial Apsarases and Gandharvīs: Ghṛtācī, Viśvācī, Miśrakeśī, Alambusā, Nāgadantā, Hemā, and Himā, born on mountain slopes. He summoned those women who attend Śakra and those who serve Brahmā, along with Tumburu and their companions. He asked that the divine forest from Kuru land, with garments, ornaments, and leaves, and the eternal fruits of Kubera, be present. “Here, may the revered Soma provide me with excellent food—various dishes to eat, enjoy, suck, and lick, in abundance. Let there be diverse garlands, those fallen from trees, drinks such as divine liquor, and various kinds of meat.” Thus, with focused mind, incomparable brilliance, and mastery of sacred recitation, the sage spoke these words, empowered by ascetic might. Facing east, hands joined in reverence, he meditated—and all the deities arrived, each in their own glory. A gentle, auspicious wind, soothing and fragrant, swept over the land, touching the Malaya and Dardura mountains. Celestial clouds gathered and showers of flowers rained down, while the sound of divine drums resounded in all directions. The finest breezes blew, hosts of apsarases danced, and the gods and gandharvas sang, playing their vīṇās, filling the air with melodious notes—a wondrous welcome for Bharata and his retinue in the sage’s hermitage.