With a heart full of longing, Bharata addressed his dear companion, urging him, “Quickly, search this forest in all directions with these men and hunters.” He entrusted Guha, armed with bow, arrows, and sword, to seek out Kakutstha—Rāma—accompanied by his thousand kinsmen. Determined, Bharata declared that he himself would traverse the entire forest on foot, not alone but with ministers, citizens, elders, and twice-born men at his side. He confessed, “Until I see Rāma, or the mighty Lakṣmaṇa, or the greatly fortunate Vaidehī, I will have no peace. Until I behold my brother’s face, radiant as the moon and with eyes like lotus petals, I will have no peace. Until I place my brother’s feet, marked with royal signs, upon my head, I will have no peace. Nor will I rest until he, worthy of the kingdom, stands in the royal office of his fathers and is anointed with consecration water.” Bharata’s heart ached with thoughts of his brothers and Sītā. “Indeed, Saumitri is truly blessed, who beholds the radiant, lotus-eyed face of Rāma, pure as the moon. The greatly fortunate Vaidehī, daughter of Janaka, is accomplished, who follows her husband across the earth bounded by the ocean. Blessed is this Chitrakūta, the mountain like the king of mountains, where Kakutstha dwells like Kubera in Nandana. This formidable forest, frequented by wild beasts, has fulfilled its purpose, for the mighty Rāma, foremost among warriors, dwells here.” Having spoken thus, the illustrious Bharata, best among men and strong-armed, entered the great forest on foot. He passed through clusters of blossoming trees growing along the mountain slopes, his eyes taking in the beauty and strangeness of the wild. Because of his nearness, the roots of the trees, once hidden, were now clear to him. Yet, as he and his companions pressed on, they became bewildered, realizing, “Here is Rāma,” as if they had reached the far shore of a vast river. On Mount Citrakūṭa, having heard of Rāma’s hermitage—blessed and inhabited by holy people—Bharata, together with Guha, quickly made his way there after arranging the army. When the army had settled, Bharata, eager and resolute, led the way for Śatrughna to see his brother. He sent word to the sage Vasiṣṭha, saying, “Quickly bring my mother,” and, ever devoted to his elders, hastened ahead. Sumantra, too, followed Śatrughna closely, for both he and Bharata were eager to see Rāma. As Bharata went, he beheld his brother’s leaf-hut and the hermitage nestled among the dwellings of ascetics. In front of that hut, he saw wood that had been split and heaps of gathered flowers, signs of simple, sacred living. He recognized the presence of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa by the scattered kuśa grass garments hanging on the trees. In the forest, he saw large piles made for warmth from the hides of deer and buffalo. With confidence, Bharata spoke to Śatrughna and all the ministers, “I think we have reached the place that Bharadvāja mentioned; for I believe the Mandākinī river is not far from here. These garments of bark, tied high up, must have been placed by Lakṣmaṇa as a marker for the path, wishing to travel at an unusual hour. Here, on the mountainside, are the tracks of the swift elephants with noble tusks, circling and trumpeting at one another. That smoke, dense and dark along the path, is seen rising where ascetics always wish to offer oblations in the forest. Here, filled with joy, I shall see the noble Rāghava, a tiger among men, who performs the sacred rites of his elders, like a great sage.” Soon after, Rāghava himself reached Citrakūṭa and arrived at the Mandākinī river; he spoke to the people gathered there. “The tiger among men sits upon the earth, delighting in the seat of heroes; the lord of men has entered solitude—alas for my birth and life! For my sake, the lord of the world, radiant and mighty, has met with misfortune; abandoning all desires, Rāghava dwells in the forest. Thus, blamed by the world, today I shall fall at the feet of Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa, seeking their forgiveness.” Lamenting thus in the forest, the son of Daśaratha at last beheld a great, auspicious, and beautiful leaf-hut. It was spacious, covered with many leaves of sāla, tāla, and aśvakarṇa trees, its floor softly spread with kuśa grass, like an altar prepared for sacrifice. The hut was adorned with bows resembling Indra’s weapon—strong, gold-backed, mighty, and fit for battle—shining as weapons that destroy enemies. Arrows, fierce and radiant as the sun’s rays, were stored in quivers, their shining faces like serpents, making the hut resemble a serpent’s abode. Splendid with great silver garments and swords, and decorated with shields marked with golden spots, the dwelling shone brightly. There were also curious lizard-skin gloves adorned with gold, and the place, surrounded by invincible weapons, was like a lion’s cave among wild beasts. Thus ends the ninety-eighth and begins the ninety-ninth sarga in the glorious Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa of the ancient and illustrious Rāmāyaṇa composed by Vālmīki.