As Rama wandered through the forest in his exile, he spoke to Sita with gentle warmth, reflecting on the blessings that had come from their hardship. “Through this exile in the forest,” he said, “I have gained two precious fruits: I have fulfilled my duty to my father, and I have done what is pleasing to Bharata.” Turning to Vaidehi, he asked, “Do you find joy here on Chitrakuta with me, as you observe the many forms of life, your mind, speech, and body restrained?” Rama’s thoughts turned to the wisdom of the past. “The royal sages of old declared this alone to be immortal: my ancestors undertook exile in the forest for the sake of spiritual purpose after death.” He then pointed out the wonders surrounding them. “See how the broad rocks of the mountain shine all around in their hundreds, abundant with many colors—blue, yellow, white, and red. At night, the herbs, radiant with their own light, shine by the thousands on the lord of mountains, like tongues of sacred fire.” He described the mountain’s many aspects to Sita. “Some regions of this mountain resemble dwellings, others appear like gardens, and some, O beautiful one, shine as if formed from a single rock. It is as if Chitrakuta has burst forth, splitting the earth; the peak of Chitrakuta is seen everywhere, auspicious in every direction.” Rama drew her attention to the signs of love and life upon the mountain. “See, the beds of lovers are covered with leaves of kuṣṭha, punnāga, asoka, and bhūrja trees, and adorned with lotus petals. See, O fair one, the garlands of lotuses, crushed and cast aside by lovers, and the various fruits scattered about. This Chitrakuta mountain, rich in roots, fruits, and water, surpasses even the lotus-filled lakes of the northern Kurus, the abodes of the gods.” With affection, Rama assured her, “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.” Thus ended that chapter of their journey. Soon after, Rama descended from the mountain, taking Sita by his side. He showed her the beautiful Mandakini river, its waters pure and clear. With his lotus-shaped eyes, Rama spoke to the noble princess, whose face shone like 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 of a king of kings.” He delighted in the simple pleasures of the forest. “Now, the waters at the fords, muddied by herds of deer, are delightful to 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. O wide-eyed one, these great sages, steadfast in their vows, stand with arms raised in discipline, worshipping the sun.” Rama pointed out the living mountain. “See how the mountain, with its peaks shaken by the wind, seems to dance, while the trees all around shed their leaves and flowers into the river. Behold the Mandakini river: here she shines like a string of jewels, there she is lined with sandy banks, and in some places she is crowded with perfected beings. See the heaps of flowers scattered and spread out by the wind, and look at the various creatures swimming in the midst of the water.” He spoke of the sages who frequented the riverbanks. “O auspicious one, those twice-born sages called ‘Rathanga-invokers’, whose words are exceedingly sweet, ascend her banks, singing beautiful hymns. O lovely one, the sight of Chitrakuta and the Mandakini is, I think, even more delightful than the city, because I see them with you.” With tender invitation, he said, “Let us, together, enter these ever-stirred waters, purified by perfected beings who are free from impurity and endowed with austerity, self-restraint, and tranquility. O Sita, enter the Mandakini river as you would with a friend, submerging the lotuses and water-lilies, O beautiful one.” He encouraged her to think of their new home as their old one. “O lady, always think of this mountain as Ayodhya, and this river as the Sarayu, just as the people of the city do. Righteous Lakshmana, too, abides by my command, and you, Vaidehi, are supportive; you both bring me joy. Bathing at the three times, eating honey, roots, and fruits, today I desire neither Ayodhya nor the kingdom, as long as I am with you.” He marveled at the beauty around them. “Truly, there is no one who, seeing this delightful river adorned with herds of deer, drunk by elephants, lions, and monkeys, and decorated with blossoming, flower-bearing trees, would not be happy and free from fatigue.” In this way, Rama spoke many loving words to Sita as they wandered about the beautiful Chitrakuta, radiant and full of joy. After showing Sita the wonders of the mountain river, Rama sat down on the slope, offering Sita meat with care. “This is pure, this is tasty, this is well-roasted in the fire,” he said, seeking to please her. As they sat together, a great commotion arose. Dust and sound from Bharata’s approaching army rose high, touching the sky. Startled by the great noise, the frightened herds of wild animals, with their leaders, fled in all directions. Rama, hearing the tumult raised by the army and seeing the chiefs of the herds fleeing in panic, turned to Lakshmana, the noble son of Sumitra, blazing with energy. “Look, Lakshmana! See here—a terrible, thunderous, deep, tumultuous sound is being heard. Whether it is herds of elephants in the forest, or buffaloes in the great woods, frightened by lions, the animals have suddenly fled in all directions.” Thus, amidst the beauty of Chitrakuta and Mandakini, the peace of their forest life was suddenly disturbed by the approach of Bharata’s army, marking a new turn in their journey.