As Bharata’s heartfelt words echoed through the gathering, the priests, beloved city elders, and the mothers—tears glistening in their eyes—rose in praise of him. They admired his devotion and together entreated Rama, hoping he would heed their pleas. Thus concluded the one hundred and sixth sarga of the glorious Ayodhya Kanda in the revered Ramayana, composed by Valmiki. Once again, as Bharata spoke with earnestness, Rama—the illustrious elder brother of Lakshmana, honored among his kin—gave his reply. He acknowledged Bharata’s words as fitting, recognizing him as the worthy son of King Dasaratha and noble Kaikeyi, the best among kings. Rama recalled the past: when their father Dasaratha married Kaikeyi, he heard from her father, Bharata’s maternal grandfather, of an unparalleled royal dowry. In the ancient battle between gods and demons, Kaikeyi’s father, the king, delighted with her, granted her a boon out of his pleasure. Having received this promise, Kaikeyi—renowned for her resolve—asked Dasaratha for two boons: the kingship for Bharata and exile for Rama. The king, bound by his word, granted her both as she wished. Rama explained that, by their father’s command, he too was obligated to dwell in the forest for fourteen years, as a giver of boons. Thus, he had come to this lonely wilderness, accompanied by Lakshmana and Sita, steadfast in truth and in honoring his father’s word. He urged Bharata, “You too, O king among men, should swiftly fulfill our truthful father’s command by accepting the consecration. Free the king, our lord, from his debts on my account, O Bharata, knower of righteousness, and honor both our father and mother.” Rama continued, recalling the ancient tradition: “Long ago, it is heard that a celebrated hymn was sung by Gaya, the sacrificer, for his father at Gaya itself. Because a son saves his father from the hell called Put, he is called ‘putra,’ for he protects or leads his father. Many sons should be begotten, virtuous and learned, for among them, even if many are gathered, perhaps one will go to Gaya.” He affirmed that all royal sages held this belief, and thus implored Bharata, “Save our father from hell, O lord, delight of the kings. Go to Ayodhya, win the favor of the people, together with Shatrughna, O hero, and with all the twice-born priests as well. I shall enter the Dandaka forest without delay, accompanied by Vaidehi and Lakshmana.” Rama declared, “You, Bharata, become king yourself over men; I shall be king of the forest-dwellers and wild beasts. Go today, rejoicing, to the great city; I too, rejoicing, shall enter Dandaka. May the rays of the sun make your head cool with shade during the rainy season; I shall happily rest in the deep shade of these forest trees.” He reassured Bharata, “Shatrughna, skilled and steadfast, will be your companion; Saumitri (Lakshmana) is my chief friend. We four excellent sons, O king, will follow the path of truth—do not grieve, Bharata.” Thus concluded the one hundred and seventh sarga in the glorious Ayodhya Kanda of the holy Ramayana, composed by Valmiki. As Bharata was being consoled, the eminent Brahmin Jabali spoke to Rama, words that ran contrary to righteousness. Jabali addressed Rama, “Well done, Raghava, but let not your mind be so fruitless, like that of an ordinary man; you possess the noble mind of the virtuous.” He questioned the nature of relationships: “Who is truly related to whom? What belongs to whom, and who possesses anything? Each being is born alone and perishes alone. Therefore, Rama, the man who clings to ‘mother’ and ‘father’ should be regarded as mad; truly, there is no one who belongs to anyone.” Jabali likened life to a traveler’s journey: “Just as a man, traveling to another village, may stay somewhere for a while, then leave that dwelling and settle elsewhere the next day, so too, for people, father, mother, and home are merely temporary abodes; the good do not become attached to them.” He advised Rama, “Having abandoned your father’s kingdom, you should not take up this painful, difficult, and thorny path. Consecrate yourself as ruler in prosperous Ayodhya; the city, with its single braid, now awaits you. Enjoy the royal pleasures of Ayodhya, which are of the highest value, just as Indra delights in his heavenly realm.” Jabali argued, “You are not Dasaratha, nor is he you; there is another king now, so do as he commands. A father is only the seed of a being, as are the white and red fluids; joined with the mother’s womb, that is the birth of a man here. That king has gone to the place where he must go; such is the course for mortals, yet you grieve in vain.” He expressed sorrow for those devoted to wealth and duty, “I grieve for them and not for others; for after suffering here, they meet destruction after death. People perform the Aṣṭakā rites, thinking they are for the ancestors; but what can a dead man eat except food that decays? If what is eaten here by one could reach the body of another, then one could offer śrāddha for someone abroad, but that would not be wholesome food.” Jabali concluded, “These texts, composed by the wise, are only for encouraging gifts: ‘Sacrifice, give, be initiated, perform austerity, renounce.’ Therefore, O wise one, fix your mind on ‘there is nothing beyond this’; follow what is evident, and set aside what is unseen. With this understanding, which sees the nature of all people, accept the kingdom as Bharata urges you.” Thus, the voices of tradition, duty, and reason mingled in the forest, as Bharata, Rama, and Jabali each spoke their truth, seeking the path that would honor their father, fulfill their dharma, and guide the destiny of Ayodhya.