As Bharata and his great army approached the forest, some among them, not seeing the two tiger-like princes, wondered aloud if those who so resembled Rama might actually be ascetics living in the woods. Their words, which found favor with all, reached Bharata’s ears. The destroyer of enemy hosts then addressed the assembled multitude, instructing them with care: “Let all of you remain here; none should go ahead. I alone will proceed, accompanied by Sumantra and our revered teacher.” Obeying his command, the entire army halted and stood watchfully in all directions, while Bharata fixed his gaze upon a distant column of smoke rising above the trees. The soldiers, stationed as he ordered and observing even the faintest sign ahead, soon became filled with joy, their hearts swelling with the hope that a meeting with their beloved Rama was near. Meanwhile, on the slopes of the beloved mountain, Rama, having dwelled long in that place so dear to the forests and hills, found his thoughts lingering upon Vaidehī, his beloved Sita, and upon the wonders of Chitrakuta that delighted his mind. Like Indra showing Śacī the heavenly city, Rama took Sita’s hand and revealed to her the marvels of Chitrakuta. “O gentle one,” he said, his voice gentle and steady, “the loss of the kingdom or separation from friends does not trouble my heart when I behold this delightful mountain. See, O gentle one, how this mountain is adorned with multitudes of birds, its peaks soaring into the sky, decorated with radiant minerals. Some peaks gleam like silver, some shine crimson as fresh blood, others are yellow, or red, or glow with the brilliance of precious gems. Some regions sparkle like flowers, sunlight, or ketaka blossoms; some shimmer with the glow of fire. All these lands of the lord of mountains are adorned with minerals.” He pointed out the herds of deer, wild beasts, tigers, bears, and the many trees that made the mountain their home, while flocks of birds filled the air with color and song. Rama named the trees for Sita: mango, jambū, asana, lodhra, priyāla, jackfruit, dhava, aṅkola, bhavyatiniśa, bilva, tinduka, bamboo, kāśmarya, ariṣṭa, varuṇa, madhūka, tilaka, badarī, āmalaka, nīpa, vetra, dhanvana, and bījaka—all flourishing, bearing flowers and fruit, casting delightful shade upon the slopes. On those lovely slopes, Rama showed Sita the wondrous and awe-inspiring kinnaras—celestial beings, wise and beautiful, delighting together in pairs. “See,” he said, “the swords hanging from branches and the splendid garments—these are the enchanting playgrounds of the Vidyādhara women.” The mountain sparkled with waterfalls, springs, and streams, shining like a great elephant exuding fragrant ichor. The breeze, carrying scents from all the flowers, delighted the senses. “Who would not be gladdened by it?” Rama asked with a smile. “If I dwell here for many autumns with you, O faultless one, and with Lakshmana, sorrow will not consume me. On this charming mountain, abundant with flowers and fruits, filled with many kinds of birds and crowned with varied peaks, I find delight, O lovely one.” He spoke softly, “Through this exile in the forest, I have gained two fruits: I have fulfilled my duty to my father, and I have done what is pleasing to Bharata. Vaidehi, do you find joy here on Chitrakuta with me, as you observe the many forms of life, restrained in mind, speech, and body?” Rama recalled the royal sages of old. “The sages declared this alone to be immortal: my ancestors undertook exile in the forest for the sake of spiritual purpose after death.” He continued to show Sita the beauty of Chitrakuta: the broad rocks, shining all around in hundreds, radiant with blue, yellow, white, and red hues; the herbs that, at night, glowed with their own light, like tongues of sacred fire upon the mountain. Some regions appeared as dwellings, others as gardens, and some shone as if carved from a single solid rock. “It is as if Chitrakuta has burst forth, splitting the earth,” he said. “The peak of Chitrakuta is seen everywhere, auspicious in every direction. See, the beds of lovers are covered with leaves of kuṣṭha, punnāga, asoka, and bhūrja trees, adorned with lotus petals. See, O fair one, the garlands of lotuses, crushed and cast aside by lovers, and the various fruits scattered about.” He praised the mountain: “This Chitrakuta, rich in roots, fruits, and water, surpasses even the lotus-filled lakes of the northern Kurus, the abodes of the gods. O lovely one, I will spend this time with you, Sita, and with Lakshmana, delighting in a joy that upholds the noble path, established in the highest self-restraint.” After some time, Rama, lord of Kosala, descended from the mountain and showed Sita the beautiful Mandakini river, its pure waters sparkling in the sunlight. He spoke to her, his lotus eyes shining, to the noble princess whose face was radiant as the moon. “Behold the Mandakini river, charming with its varied sandbanks, frequented by swans and cranes, and adorned with lotuses. See how she is encircled on all sides by many kinds of trees, bearing flowers and fruits, shining like a lotus pond belonging to a king of kings. The waters at the fords, muddied by herds of deer, delight me and awaken my joy. At the proper time, the sages, wearing matted locks and deer skins, and clad in bark garments, enter the Mandakini river, beloved.” Thus, Rama shared the wonders of Chitrakuta and Mandakini with Sita, his words filled with love, wisdom, and the serene joy of exile in the forest.