Rāma, the noble prince, addressed his younger brother with words rich in wisdom and compassion. “A man who seeks the highest good in the next world must act with intelligence, kindness, and obedience to elders, O tiger among men,” he said. “You too, best of men, should conduct yourself in accordance with your own nature, having heard of the virtuous ways of our father, Daśaratha.” With these meaningful words, spoken out of a deep sense of duty to fulfill his father’s command, the great Rāma, lordly and wise, fell silent, leaving his younger brother in contemplation. When Rāma ceased speaking, Bharata, ever devoted to righteousness, responded to him on the banks of the Mandākinī. His words were remarkable and filled with dharma, spoken to Rāma, who cherished the people dearly. “Who in this world could be like you, O subduer of foes?” Bharata began. “Neither sorrow disturbs you nor joy elates you. You are esteemed by the elders, and you seek their counsel when in doubt. One who, whether living or dead, present or absent, possesses such discernment—how could he be troubled by anything? “He who knows both the higher and lower truths, as you do, O lord of men, should not grieve even when faced with misfortune. Your nature is like that of the immortals—great-souled, steadfast in truth, all-knowing and all-seeing, O Rāghava. One endowed with your qualities, who understands the mysteries of creation and dissolution, should not be afflicted by unbearable sorrow. “Whatever wrong my mother, base and misguided, committed on my account while I was away—may you, noble one, forgive that offense of mine. Bound by the ties of righteousness, I do not inflict the deserved punishment on her for her evil deed. How could I, born of Daśaratha—pure in lineage and deeds—knowing what is right, ever perform an unrighteous act, one to be despised? “The teacher, the actor, the elder, the king, and the deceased father—these I would not reproach in the assembly, nor the divine powers themselves. For who, wishing to please a woman, would perform such a sinful act, devoid of righteousness and purpose, if he truly knows and understands dharma? “It is said since ancient times that beings become confused at the end of their lives; by the king acting as he did, this tradition has been made manifest before our eyes. Whatever my father transgressed, driven by anger, delusion, or rashness, let you, aiming for what is right, now withdraw that act. Because a father's downfall is regarded as the son’s responsibility, let you be the true son, and do not become the perpetrator of your father’s wrongdoing. In this world, the wise do not approve of one who carries out a wrongful deed. “Protect Kaikeyi, me, our father, our friends and relatives, and all the people of the city and countryside—let you safeguard all of this. What connection is there between the forest and the warrior class, between matted locks and ruling? You ought not to perform such a disrupted act. For the first and foremost duty of a kshatriya is consecration, by which, O greatly wise one, the protection of the people is accomplished. “Who, abandoning what is certain and present, would pursue a doubtful, uncertain, and future dharma, being a kshatriya or his kin? But if you wish to practice a dharma that is difficult and full of hardship, then, by upholding dharma, protect the four varnas and accept that hardship. For among the four stages of life, householdership is declared by the knowers of dharma to be the highest; how could you rightly abandon that? “By learning, by position, and by birth, I am indeed your junior; so how could I govern the land while you remain? I am a child, lacking in intellect and qualities, and inferior in position; deprived of you, I am unable to maintain the kingdom. “Rule this entire, undisturbed, ancestral kingdom, free from thorns, in accordance with your own dharma, O knower of dharma, together with your kinsmen. Let all the ministers, along with the priests and Vasiṣṭha, skilled in mantras, anoint you as king right here. Once you are consecrated by us, go forth to govern Ayodhyā, having conquered the worlds with your might, like Indra with the Maruts. “By repaying the three debts, burning away the wicked, and gratifying friends, you alone should rule over me here. Today, may your true friends rejoice at your consecration, and may your ill-wishers, filled with fear, flee in all ten directions. Wipe away the reproach upon my mother and myself, O best of men, and today protect our father there from sin. With my head bowed, I beg you: show compassion to me and to all our relatives, as the great Lord does to all beings. “But if, having set this aside, you still choose to go to the forest, then I too will go with you.” Thus, though Bharata, tormented and pleading, bowed his head before Rāma, the steadfast son did not resolve to return, remaining firm in his father’s command. Seeing such wondrous steadfastness in Rāghava, the people, though sorrowful that he would not return to Ayodhyā, felt a deep joy at his unwavering resolve. Then the priests, the beloved city elders, and the mothers, their eyes brimming with tears, praised Bharata for his words and together entreated Rāma. Thus concludes the one hundred and fifth and one hundred and sixth sargas in the glorious Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa of the ancient and revered Rāmāyaṇa composed by Vālmīki.