As the grand procession prepared to depart, the air was filled with the trumpeting of intoxicated elephants, their mighty voices echoing through the streets in honor of Rama, the illustrious descendant of Kakutstha. Within the palace, the women rejoiced, their attention wholly devoted to the celebration of this noble occasion. Bharata, Rama’s devoted younger brother, spoke words that resonated deeply with the citizens and all manner of people gathered there. His sentiments were met with enthusiastic approval; “Well spoken!” they cried, and they implored Rama once more, expressing their heartfelt wishes. Yet, as the crowd watched, Bharata’s grief became evident. He lamented, his heart heavy with sorrow over their father’s passing and the turn of fate. Rama, steadfast in self-control and wisdom, approached Bharata and gently comforted him. He spoke with profound insight: “No one acts solely according to his own will; none are truly their own master. From every direction, Death pulls us along. All accumulations eventually diminish; all elevations are destined to fall; every union ends in separation, and life itself concludes in death. Just as ripe fruits fear only falling, so too, for anyone born, the only certainty is death. Even a house built on strong pillars will, in time, decay and collapse; so too, people decline, subject to old age and death.” Rama continued, “The night that passes never returns, just as the Yamuna flows steadily toward the ocean, never turning back. Days and nights slip away for all living beings, quickly reducing our lifespans, much like the sun’s rays drying up water in the summer. So, Bharata, grieve for yourself—why grieve for another? Whether one stays or departs, life’s span diminishes all the same. Death accompanies each person, sits beside him, and after a long journey, returns with him. Wrinkles appear on the limbs, hair turns white; old age wears a man down—what more can he accomplish then?” He observed, “People rejoice at the sunrise and again at sunset, yet they fail to notice their own lifespans growing shorter. They delight in each new season, but every change brings a reduction in the life of living beings. Just as two pieces of wood might meet in the vast ocean and then part again, so too do wives, sons, relatives, and friends come together and inevitably separate. No living being remains unchanged; thus, lamenting for the departed holds no power.” Rama likened the journey of life to a traveler on the road, who might say to a passing caravan, ‘I too will come after you.’ “So, too, is the path our ancestors and forefathers have taken. It is certain; having reached it, why should one grieve, since there is no deviation from it? As age declines and the current of life never turns back, one should direct the mind toward happiness, for offspring are meant to enjoy happiness.” He spoke reverently of their father: “Our father, the lord of the earth, righteous and purified by auspicious sacrifices, has gone to heaven. By supporting his servants, protecting his people, and giving wealth righteously, he has attained the third heaven. Through auspicious deeds and desired sacrifices, King Dasaratha has reached heaven. Having performed many sacrifices, enjoyed abundant pleasures, and attained the highest span of life, he has gone to heaven. Honored by the virtuous, our father has abandoned the worn-out human body and now dwells in the world of Brahma, enjoying divine prosperity. Therefore, he is not to be mourned.” Rama continued, “No wise person, regardless of kind or intelligence, ought to grieve in such a way. These sorrows and lamentations should be avoided by the wise in all circumstances. So, Bharata, be at ease and do not grieve; remain in the city. Our father, the best among those who command their senses and foremost among speakers, has instructed you thus. Where I too have been directed by our virtuous father, there I shall carry out his command. It is not right for me to disregard his instruction; he is always to be honored by you as well, for he is our kinsman and our father.” Resolutely, Rama declared, “Therefore, I shall uphold the word of our father, who walks in righteousness, by dwelling in the forest as he has approved. A man who seeks the next world must act with intelligence, compassion, and obedience to elders, O tiger among men. You too, best of men, should conduct yourself according to your own nature, having heard of the virtuous conduct of our father, Dasaratha.” Having spoken these meaningful words, Rama, noble and wise, fell silent, his speech having served to honor his father’s command and guide his younger brother. Thus ended the one hundred and fifth sarga in the glorious Ayodhya Kanda of the ancient and illustrious Valmiki Ramayana. As Rama’s words faded into the gentle air by the banks of the Mandakini, Bharata, ever devoted to righteousness, addressed his elder brother with remarkable and virtuous words: “Who in this world could be like you, O subduer of foes? Neither sorrow disturbs you nor joy elates you. You are esteemed by the elders, and you consult them regarding your doubts. One who, whether living or dead, whether present or absent, possesses such discernment—why would he be troubled by anything?” Thus, in that sacred moment, Bharata praised Rama’s unwavering equanimity and wisdom, honoring his brother’s noble heart and steadfast spirit.