As Bharata and his great army approached the slopes of Chitrakuta, his keen eyes fell upon a mighty elephant leading the host—a noble beast named Shatrunjaya, aged and wise, belonging to his own revered father. Yet, as Bharata surveyed the scene, he noticed with a troubled heart that the white parasol, that world-honored, divine emblem of his father’s royalty, was nowhere to be seen. This absence stirred doubt within him. Lakshmana, ever victorious in battle, descended from the assembly hall and, with hands joined in respect, stood beside Rama. Under Bharata’s command, so that confusion might be avoided, the army made camp all around the mountain. The great Ikshvaku host, brimming with elephants, horses, and chariots, stretched for a yojana and a half along the mountainside. Led by wise Bharata, the army, setting aside all pride and upholding righteousness, shone splendidly on Chitrakuta, all for the sake of pleasing the scion of Raghu. Having thus arranged the encampment, the mighty Bharata, foremost among those who walk on foot, set out to approach Rama, following the path of his ancestors. When the army was settled in its proper place, Bharata turned to his brother Shatrughna and said, “Dear one, swiftly search this forest in all directions with these men and hunters. Let Guha, armed with bow, arrows, and sword, search for Rama here, accompanied by his thousand kinsmen. I myself will traverse the entire forest on foot, accompanied by ministers, citizens, elders, and twice-born men. Until I see Rama, or the mighty Lakshmana, or the greatly fortunate Vaidehi, I will have no peace. Until I behold my brother’s face, radiant as the moon and with eyes like lotus petals, my heart will not rest. Until I place my brother’s feet, marked with royal signs, upon my head, I will find no peace. Nor will I be at ease until he, worthy of the kingdom, sits upon the throne of his fathers and is anointed with consecration water. Truly blessed is Saumitri, who beholds the radiant, lotus-eyed face of Rama, pure as the moon. And greatly accomplished is Vaidehi, the daughter of Janaka, who follows her husband across the earth bounded by the ocean. Blessed, too, is this Chitrakuta, king of mountains, where Rama dwells like Kubera in Nandana. This formidable forest, frequented by wild beasts, has fulfilled its purpose, for the mighty Rama, foremost among warriors, dwells here.” Having spoken thus, illustrious Bharata, strong-armed and best among men, entered the great forest on foot. He passed through clusters of blossoming trees on the mountain slopes, their tops aglow with flowers. Drawing near, he refrained from again observing the roots, recognizing the place by its signs. As Bharata and his companions advanced, they became bewildered—realizing, “Here is Rama!”—as if one had reached the far shore of a vast expanse of water. Upon hearing of Rama’s hermitage, blessed and inhabited by holy people, Bharata, with Guha by his side, quickly made his way there after ensuring the army was properly arranged. When the army had settled, Bharata, eager to see his brother, led the way for Shatrughna. He sent word to the sage Vasistha, requesting, “Quickly bring my mother,” and, ever devoted to his elders, hastened ahead. Sumantra, too, followed closely behind Shatrughna, for both he and Bharata yearned to see Rama. As Bharata went, he caught sight of his brother’s leaf-hut and the hermitage nestled among the dwellings of ascetics. In front of the hut, he saw split wood and heaps of gathered flowers. He recognized the hermitage of Rama and Lakshmana by the scattered garments of kuśa grass hanging on the trees. In that forest, he saw large piles made for warmth from the hides of deer and buffalo. With confidence, the mighty and radiant Bharata spoke to Shatrughna and the assembled ministers: “I believe we have reached the place Bharadvaja mentioned; for the Mandakini river cannot be far from here. These garments of bark, tied high up, must have been placed by Lakshmana as markers for the path, wishing to travel at an unusual hour. Here, on the mountainside, are the tracks of swift elephants with noble tusks, circling and trumpeting at one another. That smoke, rising dense and dark along the path, marks where ascetics offer their forest oblations. Here, filled with joy, I shall see the noble Raghava, a tiger among men, who performs the sacred rites of his elders, like a great sage.” Thus, with reverence, longing, and hope, Bharata and his company pressed on, their hearts set on reunion with Rama, the beloved son of Raghu.