As Bharata and his great army pressed deeper into the forest, the scene transformed before their eyes. The men adorned themselves with fragrant garlands, placing flowers upon their heads, much like the people of the southern lands who wear bright fruits that gleam like clouds. The forest, once silent and daunting, now seemed as bustling and lively as Ayodhya itself, filled with the presence of so many people. The thunder of hooves sent up clouds of dust, veiling the sky, and the wind seemed to carry this dust swiftly onward, as if eager to do Bharata a favor. Bharata called out to Shatrughna, pointing to the chariots drawn by noble horses and expertly guided by skilled charioteers, all racing through the forest’s depths. The commotion startled the forest’s beautiful peacocks, who hurriedly sought shelter among the trees, their brilliant plumage vanishing into the foliage. Bharata’s eyes took in the charm of the place, which now appeared exceedingly delightful—a clear sign it was the dwelling of ascetics, as if it were a path leading to heaven itself. In the forest, many deer, graceful and adorned as if with garlands of flowers, wandered together with their mates, adding to the scene’s beauty. Determined, Bharata ordered his noble troops to search the forest thoroughly, so that they might find the two tiger-like brothers, Rama and Lakshmana. At his command, the warriors, weapons in hand, entered the forest. Soon, they spotted a column of smoke rising in the distance. Pointing it out to Bharata, they remarked that fire does not appear where there are no people; surely, the Raghavas must be there. But if not, they reasoned, then those who dwell here must be ascetics who resemble Rama. Bharata, approving their words, addressed the entire army: “Let all of you remain here; none should go ahead. I alone will proceed, along with Sumantra and our revered teacher.” Obediently, the army halted, standing watchfully in every direction, while Bharata fixed his gaze upon the rising smoke. The army, stationed as Bharata commanded, watched the smoke and soon grew joyful, sensing that their long-awaited meeting with beloved Rama was drawing near. Meanwhile, on the slopes of Chitrakuta, Rama lingered, his heart held captive by the beauty of the mountain and the memory of his beloved Sita, Vaidehi. He showed her the wonders of Chitrakuta, his words gentle and loving, as if Indra himself were showing Shaci the splendors of the heavenly city. “O gentle one,” Rama said, “the loss of my kingdom and the separation from friends trouble me not, so long as I can behold this delightful mountain with you. Look at these peaks, adorned with flocks of many-colored birds, their summits touching the sky and gleaming with rich minerals. Some peaks shine like silver, others glow red as fresh blood; some are yellow, some deep crimson, and others glitter with the radiance of precious gems. Some slopes gleam like flowers, or the golden sunlight, or the blossoms of the ketaka tree; others glow with the light of fire. All these lands of the lordly mountain are adorned with minerals and gems.” He pointed out the abundance of wildlife: “This mountain is alive with many kinds of deer and wild beasts—tigers, bears, and harmless creatures—amidst groves of trees, all made brighter by flocks of birds. See the mango, jambū, asana, lodhra, priyāla, jackfruit, dhava, aṅkola, bhavyatiniśa, bilva, tinduka, and bamboo trees. There are also kāśmarya, ariṣṭa, varuṇa, madhūka, tilaka, badarī, āmalaka, nīpa, vetra, dhanvana, and bījaka trees. Laden with flowers and fruits, these trees offer delightful shade, making the mountain flourish in beauty.” Rama’s gaze lingered on the slopes. “See, on these lovely slopes dwell wondrous, awe-inspiring kinnaras, the wise and magical beings, delighting together in pairs. Look at the swords hanging from branches and the splendid garments—these are the enchanting playgrounds of Vidyādhara women.” Waterfalls, springs, and streams coursed through the mountain, making it shine like a mighty elephant exuding fragrant ichor. The mountain breeze, fragrant with the scent of myriad flowers, wafted gently, delighting the senses. “Who would not be gladdened by such sweetness?” Rama mused. “If I dwell here for many autumns with you, O faultless one, and with Lakshmana, sorrow will never touch me. On this charming mountain, rich with flowers and fruits, filled with birds and crowned with varied peaks, I find true delight, O lovely one. Through this exile, I have gained two fruits: I have fulfilled my duty to my father and done what is pleasing to Bharata.” Turning to Sita, he asked, “Vaidehi, do you find joy here on Chitrakuta with me, as you observe the many forms of life, restraining mind, speech, and body?” He recalled how the royal sages of old declared that this alone was immortal: his ancestors had sought exile in the forest for spiritual purpose after death. The mountain’s broad rocks shone in every direction, abundant with many colors—blue, yellow, white, and red. At night, countless radiant herbs glimmered on the slopes, like tongues of sacred fire illuminating the lord of mountains. Some regions of Chitrakuta resembled dwellings, others appeared like lush gardens, and some glistened as if carved from a single rock. The mountain seemed to have burst forth, splitting the earth, its auspicious peak visible everywhere. “See,” Rama said, “the beds of lovers are covered with leaves of kuṣṭha, punnāga, asoka, and bhūrja trees, adorned with lotus petals.” Thus, in the midst of nature’s splendor and the nearness of those he loved, Rama found contentment and peace on the holy mountain of Chitrakuta.