Bharata, having gazed intently for a moment, beheld his revered elder brother Rāma seated within the humble forest hut. Rāma wore a crown of matted hair, his form radiant even in such austerity. Bharata saw him seated there, clad in black antelope skin and bark garments, shining like a blazing fire, surrounded on all sides by the quiet of the forest. Before Bharata sat the righteous lord of the earth, his shoulders broad as a lion’s, his arms mighty, his eyes like lotuses—this was the ruler of the land bounded by the sea. Rāma, with his powerful arms, sat upon a seat of sacred darbha grass, accompanied by Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa, resembling the eternal Brahmā himself. At this sight, the illustrious Bharata, overwhelmed by grief and sorrow, rushed forward. The righteous son of Kaikeyī, his heart heavy, was overcome by pain. Tears choked his voice as he lamented, unable to maintain his composure, and he spoke these words: “My elder brother, once worthy to be attended by the people in assembly, now sits here among wild forest animals. That great soul, who was formerly adorned in garments worth many thousands, now practices righteousness here, clad in a simple deerskin. He who once wore beautiful garlands of many kinds now bears this heavy crown of matted hair—how does Rāghava endure it? He who, by performing sacrifices as prescribed, accumulated great merit, now seeks righteousness through bodily hardship. He whose body was once anointed with precious sandalwood is now covered with dust and dirt. Because of me, Rāma—accustomed to comfort—has come to this suffering. Shame on my cruel life, condemned by the world.” Thus lamenting in distress, sweat bathing his lotus-like face, Bharata wept and fell at Rāma’s feet. Afflicted by sorrow, the mighty prince could only utter, “Noble one,” his grief so great that he could say nothing more; his throat was blocked by tears. Seeing the illustrious Rāma, he cried out again, “Noble one,” but words failed him. Shatrughna too, weeping, bowed at Rāma’s feet. Rāma, moved with compassion, embraced them both and gently wiped away their tears. Then, with Sumantra and Guha, the royal princes gathered together in the forest, shining like the sun and moon joined in the sky with Venus and Jupiter. Seeing those kings, resplendent as lordly elephants, assembled in the great forest, even the forest-dwellers shed tears, abandoning their joy. Thus ended the ninety-ninth sarga of the glorious Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa in the ancient and sacred Rāmāyaṇa composed by Vālmīki. Now, Rāma saw Bharata, who was difficult to recognize—his hair matted, clad in bark garments, his palms joined, prostrate upon the ground like the sun at the end of an age. With some effort, Rāma recognized his brother, whose face was pale and body emaciated, and he reached out, lifting Bharata with his strong arm. Rāma, the scion of Raghu, smelled his brother’s head in affection, embraced him, and lifted him onto his lap, questioning him with deep care: “Where is our father, dear one, that you have come to the forest? For as long as he lives, you should not have come here. Ah, after so long I see you, Bharata, approaching from afar; your appearance is unfamiliar in this forest—why, dear one, have you come here? Is the king still alive, that you have come here? Or has the king, stricken with grief, suddenly departed this world? “Gentle one, surely your kingdom, your lasting inheritance, is not lost? Dear one, do you serve your father, who is true to his vows? Is King Dasharatha, steadfast in truth, well—the one who performed the Rājasūya and Aśvamedha sacrifices, firm in righteousness? Is the learned and ever-righteous Brāhmaṇa, the illustrious preceptor of the Ikṣvāku line, honored by you, dear one? Are Kausalyā and Sumitrā, mothers of sons, well? And is the noble queen Kaikeyī also happy? “Is your family priest, disciplined, learned, free from envy, and impartial, honored by you? Are you attentive to the sacred fires, wise in the rites, ensuring that what is offered and to be offered is done at the proper time? Do you show proper respect to the gods, your father, mother, teachers, elders, physicians, and Brāhmaṇas? Do you regard as your instructor one skilled in weapons, expert in statecraft, and well-versed in the science of wealth? Have you appointed as ministers those who are brave as yourself, learned, self-controlled, noble, perceptive, and discerning? “For, Rāghava, counsel is the root of victory for kings, when well-guarded by ministers skilled in counsel and versed in the sciences. Do you not fall under the sway of sleep? Do you rise at the proper time? Do you reflect on the subtleties of affairs even in the latter part of the night? Do you not deliberate alone, nor with too many? When you have taken counsel, does your plan not leak out into the realm? Do you, Rāghava, after determining a matter with small effort but great result, quickly set about accomplishing it, without delay? Are all your actions, or those already accomplished, known to your virtuous subjects? For kings should not undertake what is unknown.” Thus, with great love and concern, Rāma questioned his brother, his heart full of affection and the duties of dharma.