As Rama, clad in bark garments with matted locks, entered the forest, Bharata approached him with deep reverence and longing. Bharata’s voice trembled as he spoke: “I wish to hear what you have to say, and understand why you, dressed in these ascetic clothes and with your hair in matted braids, have come to this place. For what purpose have you, abandoning the kingdom and clad in black antelope skin, entered this forest? Please, tell me everything.” Thus addressed by the great-souled descendant of Kakutstha, Bharata—Kaikeyi’s son—joined his palms and, with great effort, spoke: “Our noble father has performed a most difficult deed; tormented by grief for his son, he has abandoned his life and gone to heaven. Urged by a woman, my mother Kaikeyi, O subduer of enemies, he committed a great sin that destroyed his own honor. 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 Bharata, tears streaming down his face, again respectfully grasped Rama’s feet with his head, as is customary. Seeing his brother Bharata sighing again and again like a maddened elephant, Rama embraced him and gently spoke: “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. 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 of the glorious Ayodhya Kanda in the holy Ramayana composed by sage Valmiki. As the night passed, filled with sorrow among those lion-like men and their bands of friends, dawn arrived. Bharata and his brothers, surrounded by friends, performed the morning oblation and recitation on the banks of the Mandakini, then approached Rama. They sat together in silence; no one spoke a word. But Bharata, in the midst of his friends, addressed Rama: “My mother, having been appeased, has given this kingdom to me; I now give it to you—enjoy the kingdom without hindrance. Like a dam broken by a great rush of water, this vast portion of the kingdom cannot be held by anyone but you. Just as one cannot follow the speed of a horse or the flight of Garuda, so am I unable to keep pace with your course, O king. One who is always supported by others lives easily; but, O Rama, it is hard for him who lives off others. Just as a tree planted and nurtured by a man grows tall, with a thick trunk, and becomes difficult for a short person to climb, so, when that tree flowers but does not bear fruit, the one who planted it does not enjoy the satisfaction for which he raised it. This is the analogy, O mighty-armed one; you should understand its meaning. If you are the chief among us, then do not rule over your servants. Let the foremost guilds and all the people, O great king, see you, unconquerable by enemies, shining in the kingdom like the blazing sun. Let the intoxicated elephants trumpet in your procession, O descendant of Kakutstha; let the women of the inner palace rejoice with full attention.” Hearing Bharata’s words, the citizens and people of all kinds approved, saying, “Well spoken!” and entreated Rama again, urging him to accept the kingdom.