Rama, gazing upon the splendid Chitrakuta mountain, spoke with wonder and affection to Sita. He described the mountain as abundant with roots, fruits, and clear waters, surpassing even the fabled lotus-filled lakes of the northern Kurus, and rivaling the very abodes of the gods in beauty and bounty. Turning to Sita with warmth, Rama promised her that he would spend this time of exile in her company and with Lakshmana, delighting in a happiness rooted in righteousness and upheld by the highest self-restraint. Thus concluded that chapter in the tale of their exile, as composed by the sage Valmiki. Soon after, Rama descended from the heights of Chitrakuta, leading Sita, and showed her the lovely Mandakini river, its waters pure and inviting. The lotus-eyed Rama spoke gently to Sita, the noble princess whose face shone like the moon, inviting her to behold the Mandakini, charming with its shifting sandbanks, where swans and cranes played, and lotuses bloomed in profusion. He pointed out how the river was encircled by many kinds of flowering and fruit-laden trees, shining with beauty like a royal lotus pond. The fords of the river, muddied by herds of deer, filled Rama with delight. At the proper hours, he told her, sages with matted locks and clad in deer skins and bark garments would enter the Mandakini for their rituals. These great ascetics, steadfast in their vows, would stand in the waters, arms raised in discipline, worshipping the sun. Rama drew Sita’s gaze to the mountain itself, its peaks swaying in the wind, seeming to dance as trees shed their leaves and flowers into the river below. The Mandakini sparkled in places like a string of jewels, was lined with sandy banks elsewhere, and in some spots was crowded with perfected beings. He pointed out heaps of flowers scattered by the wind and the many creatures swimming in the clear waters. Rama spoke of the twice-born sages, known as Rathanga-invokers, whose sweet hymns filled the air as they ascended the riverbanks. He confessed to Sita that the sights of Chitrakuta and the Mandakini, enjoyed in her company, were even more delightful to him than the city of Ayodhya itself. With gentle affection, Rama invited Sita to enter the ever-stirring waters of the Mandakini, which had been sanctified by the perfected beings, and to do so as one would with a dear friend, submerging the lotuses and water-lilies. He urged her to think of this mountain as Ayodhya and this river as the Sarayu, just as the people of Ayodhya did, so that their hearts would remain content. Rama acknowledged Lakshmana’s steadfastness and Sita’s loving support, saying that with them, he felt true happiness. Bathing at the three times, eating honey, roots, and fruits, Rama declared that, so long as he was with Sita, he had no desire for Ayodhya or the kingdom. He marveled that no one could look upon this delightful river—adorned with herds of deer, visited by elephants, lions, and monkeys, and decorated with blossoming trees—without feeling joy and freedom from fatigue. Thus, speaking many such words to Sita about the river, Rama, the glory of the Raghu line, wandered about the beautiful Chitrakuta, radiant and full of peace. So ended another chapter in the sacred Ramayana. Having shown Sita the wonders of the mountain and river, Rama sat with her on the mountain slope, offering her meat to please her. He spoke kindly, saying, “This is pure, this is tasty, this is well-roasted in the fire.” As they sat together, a great cloud of dust and the distant sound of an approaching army rose up, touching the sky. Startled by the noise, herds of wild animals fled in distress in all directions, their leaders seeking safety. Rama heard the tumult raised by the army and saw the fleeing animals. Turning to Lakshmana, blazing with energy, he said, “Look, Lakshmana, do you hear this terrible, thunderous, deep, tumultuous sound? Whether it is herds of elephants or buffaloes frightened by lions, the animals are fleeing in panic. Perhaps a king or royal minister is hunting in the forest, or perhaps it is some other wild beast. O son of Sumitra, you should find out.” He added, “This mountain is difficult even for birds to cross. Quickly, Lakshmana, discover the truth of this commotion.” Obediently, Lakshmana hastened up a flowering śāla tree, scanning the horizon, especially toward the east. There, he saw a great army, crowded with chariots, horses, elephants, and foot soldiers. He climbed down and reported to Rama: “Noble one, extinguish the fire, let Sita enter the cave, and prepare your bow, arrows, and armor.” Rama, tiger among men, replied, “O Sumitra’s son, look carefully—whose army do you think this is?” Lakshmana, burning with anger and eager for battle, answered, “Desiring to secure the kingdom, and surely having been consecrated, Bharata, son of Kaikeyi, is coming to kill us both.” Thus unfolded this portion of their forest sojourn, as recounted in the holy Ramayana composed by sage Valmiki.