Rama, overcome with grief, grasped his arms and collapsed to the ground, like a tree in full blossom suddenly felled by an axe in the forest. There he lay, fallen upon the earth, the lord of the world—like a mighty elephant, exhausted on the riverbank, deep in sleep. His brothers, all great archers, worn down by sorrow, wept alongside Sita and gently sprinkled water upon him. As consciousness returned to Rama, tears streamed from his eyes, and he began to utter many pitiful words. When he learned that his father, the lord of the earth, had passed away, that righteous one spoke words in accordance with dharma to Bharata, his brother. "Now that my father has gone to the destined path, what shall I do in Ayodhya? Who will govern Ayodhya, which depended on that foremost of kings? What duty remains for me, born of difficult circumstance, toward that great-souled one who died from grief over me, and for whom I could not even perform the funeral rites?" He continued, "Ah, Bharata, you are truly fortunate, for the king was properly honored in all the funeral rites by you, blameless one, and by Shatrughna. Even after completing my forest exile, I do not have the heart to return to Ayodhya, which, deprived of its sovereign, has become leaderless and distracted. O subduer of foes, even if I finish my exile, who will rule Ayodhya now that my father has departed to the other world? Once, when my father saw me behaving well, he would speak gentle words to comfort me—how will I ever again hear those pleasing words?" Having spoken thus to Bharata, Raghava approached his wife, whose face was radiant like the full moon, and addressed her, tormented by grief. "Sita, your father-in-law has died; you are bereft of a father, Lakshmana. Bharata sorrowfully tells us the king has gone to heaven." As Kakutstha spoke in this way, abundant tears welled up in the eyes of those illustrious princes. Then all the brothers, greatly consoling Raghava, said, "Let the water-rite be performed for our father, the lord of the earth." When Sita heard that her father-in-law, the king, had gone to the heavenly realms, her eyes filled with tears and she could not look at her husband. Rama, after consoling Janaka's daughter as she wept, spoke to Lakshmana, himself sorrowful, to his sorrowful brother: "Bring me a cake of ingudi flour and fetch an upper garment of bark; I will go to perform the water-rite for my great-souled father. Let Sita go ahead, and you walk beside her; I will follow behind, for this path is exceedingly harsh." Then Sumitra's son, Lakshmana, ever devoted, self-controlled, gentle, peaceful, and unwavering in his devotion to Rama, who was wise and understood himself, assisted them. Sumantara, together with the princes, comforted Raghava and helped him descend to the auspicious Mandakini river. With difficulty, those illustrious ones reached the beautiful Mandakini river, its banks always adorned with flowering groves. Coming to a holy, pure, mudless ford with swift-flowing waters, they poured water there, saying, "May this be for you, O King." The lord of the earth, taking a handful of water in his joined palms, turned toward the southern direction, weeping, and spoke: "O tiger among kings, may this pure, unfailing water, offered by me today, reach you who have gone to the world of the ancestors." Raghava, crossing back from the bank of the Mandakini, performed the water-offering for his father, together with his brothers. Placing on a bed of darbha grass the cakes made of flour mixed with jujube and barley, Rama, overwhelmed with grief, wept as he spoke: "O great king, partake of this, pleased, for we are without proper food; as is the food a person eats, so is the food offered to his ancestors." Then, by the same path, the tiger among men crossed back from the riverbank and climbed the lovely slope of the mountain. Returning to the entrance of the leaf-hut, the lord of the earth embraced both Bharata and Lakshmana with his arms. From the sound of their weeping, an echo arose on the mountain, as the brothers, together with Vaidehi, wailed like roaring lions. Hearing the tumultuous sound of the mighty ones weeping as they performed the water-offering for their father, Bharata's soldiers became afraid. They said, "Surely Bharata has met with Rama; this great sound is from those who grieve for their dead father." All of them, leaving their quarters, hurried in the same direction, their minds united, each running to his proper place. Some men went on horses, others on elephants, others on well-adorned chariots, and still others, delicate in form, went on foot. All the people, eager to see Rama—who had been recently exiled, though it felt as if for a long time—quickly went to the hermitage. Eager to see the brothers, they hurried there, coming together in many kinds of vehicles, with the clamor of hoofs and wheels. The ground, struck by many vehicles, by hoofs and wheels, resounded with a tumultuous noise, like the sky at the meeting of clouds. Frightened by that sound, the elephants, surrounded by their young, departed, filling the air with their scent, and went to another part of the forest. Herds of boars and wolves, buffaloes, serpents, monkeys, as well as tigers, wild oxen, and gavayas, fled together with the spotted deer, disturbed by the commotion.