As the party prepared to depart, Kausalyā, trembling and emaciated with sorrow, accompanied by Queen Sumitrā, approached the venerable sage Bharadvāja. Both women, miserable and overwhelmed, grasped the sage’s feet with both hands in reverence. Kaikeyī, meanwhile, burdened by shame and the scorn of those around her—her desires unfulfilled—also touched Bharadvāja’s feet, though she did so with embarrassment and hesitation. After they had circumambulated the great sage, Kaikeyī stood not far from her son Bharata, her heart heavy with grief. Bharadvāja, steadfast in his vows, turned to Bharata and asked, “O descendant of Raghu, I wish to know in detail about your mothers.” Addressed thus, the righteous Bharata, skilled in speech and with hands joined respectfully, began to explain. “Revered one,” Bharata said, “this sorrowful, grief-stricken, and emaciated lady whom you see is my father’s chief queen—she is like a goddess. This is Kausalyā, who gave birth to Rāma, the tiger among men whose stride is like a lion’s, just as Aditi bore the sustainer of all. Clinging to her left arm stands this dejected lady, resembling a branch of the karṇikāra tree bereft of flowers in the forest. This is Queen Sumitrā, who has two sons, both resplendent as gods—Lakṣmaṇa and Śatrughna—heroes of true valor. For her sake, those tigers among men risked their lives, and Daśaratha, deprived of his sons, has gone to heaven.” He continued, “Know Kaikeyī as my mother—angry, lacking wisdom, proud, thinking herself fortunate, craving power, ignoble though she appears noble. Know this mother of mine to be cruel and intent on evil, for I see her as the root of this great calamity for my father.” Having spoken thus, Bharata, his voice choked with tears, sighed deeply, his eyes red like an enraged elephant. Bharadvāja, wise and discerning, gently addressed Bharata with meaningful words: “Kaikeyī should not be blamed by you, Bharata; for Rāma’s exile will bring about a happy outcome. For gods, demons, and seers of purified souls, Rāma’s exile here will indeed prove beneficial.” Having offered his respects and circumambulated the sage, Bharata then instructed the army to prepare for departure. Splendid chariots adorned with gold were harnessed, and a great multitude of people, eager to set out, mounted them. Elephant maidens and elephants decorated with golden trappings and banners, like clouds at the end of summer, set out with resounding noise. Various vehicles, both large and small, departed, and the esteemed foot soldiers proceeded on foot. The women, led by Kausalyā and desiring to see Rāma, joyfully departed in covered carriages. Bharata, resplendent and surrounded by his retinue, set out in a splendid palanquin shining like the moon, sun, and dawn. The great army, filled with elephants, horses, and chariots, moved southward, spreading out like a vast rising cloud. Passing through forests teeming with deer and birds, they reached the far banks of the Ganga, as well as mountains and rivers. Bharata’s army, filled with delighted priests, horses, and warriors, frightened flocks of deer and birds as it advanced through the great forest, shining brilliantly. Thus ended the ninety-second sarga of the glorious Ayodhya Kanda in the ancient and revered Ramayana, composed by the sage Valmiki. As Bharata’s great army, adorned with banners, advanced, wild elephants struck with fear fled with their herds. Bears, herds of spotted deer, and antelopes were seen in the forest groves, as well as on the mountains and by the rivers. The righteous son of Daśaratha, pleased, set out surrounded by his great, resounding fourfold army. Bharata’s mighty force, resembling a mass of ocean waves, covered the earth as a rain cloud covers the sky in the rainy season. From this, it was clear that a long time had passed. Having traveled a great distance and with his vehicles thoroughly fatigued, Bharata spoke to Vasiṣṭha, foremost among counselors: “From the appearance and as I have heard, it is clear we have reached the place that Bharadvāja described. Here is Mount Chitrakuta, here is the Mandakini river, and from afar that forest appears, dark as a rain cloud. The delightful slopes of Chitrakuta mountain are now being trampled by my elephants, who themselves are as mighty as mountains. These trees on the mountain slopes are shedding their blossoms, just as rain clouds release water when the heat subsides.” He continued, “Look, Shatrughna, at this mountain region frequented by Kinnaras, surrounded everywhere by deer, like the ocean is by makaras. These herds of deer, swift and urged onward, shine like rows of clouds scattered across the autumn sky by the wind. They make fragrant garlands of flowers upon their heads, just as people in the south adorn themselves with shining fruit resembling clouds. This forest, once silent and fearsome in appearance, now seems to me as crowded as Ayodhya.” Thus, the mighty Bharata and his retinue, journeying through wondrous forests and mountains, approached the place where Rāma dwelled, their hearts filled with hope and longing.