In the quiet of the forest, Kausalya, filled with anguish like a mother mourning her daughter, embraced Sita. Sita, frail and dispirited from her hardships, stood before her. Kausalya’s heart overflowed with sorrow as she gazed at Sita, the noble daughter of the king of Videha, daughter-in-law to Dasharatha, and beloved wife of Rama. How, she wondered aloud, had Sita come to such suffering in this desolate wilderness? Kausalya’s eyes lingered on Sita’s face, once radiant, now scorched and withered like a lotus under the sun, dulled like gold by dust, or the moon obscured by clouds. The sight of Vaidehi’s face, so changed by adversity, burned Kausalya with grief, as fire consumes its fuel. Her heart was tormented by sorrow born from misfortune. As Kausalya spoke in distress, Rama, the elder brother of Bharata, approached and respectfully touched the feet of Vasistha, the revered family priest. With the same reverence Indra would show Brihaspati, Rama, radiant and prosperous, honored the priest, then sat beside him. Bharata, devoted to righteousness, took his place near his elder brother, accompanied by his ministers, chief citizens, soldiers, and people well-versed in dharma. Seated thus, Bharata, with hands joined in reverence, gazed upon Raghava, who shone with the splendor of a sage, just as the devoted Indra would gaze upon Prajapati. Among the noble assembly, curiosity swelled: what words would Bharata speak today, after bowing respectfully to Raghava? In that moment, Rama, steadfast in truth, Lakshmana of great prowess, and righteous Bharata, surrounded by their friends, shone in the assembly like three sacred fires with their priests. Thus concluded the one hundred and third sarga of the glorious Ayodhya Kanda in the ancient and revered Valmiki Ramayana. Then Rama, perceiving his brother’s devotion to his elders, began to question him, together with Lakshmana. “I wish to hear what you have spoken, Bharata,” Rama said. “Why have you, wearing bark garments and matted hair, come to this place? For what reason have you, clad in black antelope skin and with matted locks, entered this forest, abandoning the kingdom? You must tell me everything.” Addressed by the great-souled descendant of Kakutstha, Bharata, son of Kaikeyi, with joined palms and great effort, replied, “Our noble father, having performed a most difficult deed, has abandoned his life and gone to heaven, tormented by grief for his son. Urged by my mother Kaikeyi, O subduer of enemies, he committed this great sin that destroyed his own honor. She, my mother, deprived of the fruit of the kingdom, widowed and consumed by sorrow, will fall into a terrible hell. Therefore, as your servant, I beg your favor: be consecrated as king today, just as Maghavan was anointed. All these citizens and widowed mothers who have come to you deserve your grace. O bestower of honor, accept the kingdom in due order and in accordance with righteousness, and make your friends happy. Let the earth, with you as her lord, no longer be widowed, just as the autumn night is brightened by the spotless moon. Together with these ministers, I bow my head and entreat you; as your brother, disciple, and servant, you ought to show me your favor. O tiger among men, you should not transgress this eternal and ancestral circle of subjects, which has always been honored.” Having spoken thus, the mighty-armed son of Kaikeyi, with tears in his eyes, again respectfully grasped Rama’s feet with his head, according to custom. Seeing his brother Bharata sighing again and again like a maddened elephant, Rama embraced him and spoke gently. “You are noble-born, endowed with virtue, radiant, and steadfast in your vows; how could a person like you commit any wrong for the sake of the kingdom? I do not see even the slightest fault in you, O destroyer of foes, nor should you reproach your mother due to her ignorance. O most wise and blameless one, the will of elders is always to be followed, especially when it concerns suitable spouses and sons. Just as in the world we are counted by the virtuous as wives, sons, and disciples, so too should you understand yourself. Whether in the forest, wearing bark garments and black antelope skin, or in the kingdom as a great king, it is for him to decide where I should dwell. As long as there is respect for the righteous father, honored by the world, so too, O best of the righteous, should there be respect for the mother. O Raghava, since I have been sent to the forest by these two righteous parents, how could I act otherwise? You should obtain the kingdom of Ayodhya, honored by the world, while I must dwell in the Dandaka forest, clothed in bark. Thus, having made the division in the presence of the people, the great king, having given his commands, ascended to heaven. That king, your father, righteous and a teacher of the world, is the authority; you should enjoy the share allotted to you by him. O gentle one, for fourteen years I shall dwell in the Dandaka forest and enjoy the portion given to me by my great-souled father. Whatever my great father, honored among men and like the lord of the gods, told me, I consider that alone to be for the highest good, not even the sovereignty over all the worlds.” Thus ended the one hundred and fourth sarga in the glorious Ayodhya Kanda of the ancient epic, the holy Ramayana composed by sage Valmiki. As those lion-like men, surrounded by their bands of friends, grieved, the night passed with sorrow.