With his ministers, friends, and wise counselors gathered close, Rama urged Bharata to consult with them on every matter, for through thoughtful deliberation, even the greatest tasks could be accomplished. He then declared with unwavering resolve, “Fortune may desert the moon, the Himalaya might abandon its snow, or the ocean could breach its shore—but I will never break the promise made by my father.” Rama continued, his voice gentle yet firm, “Whatever has been done, whether from desire or greed, was done for you by our mother. Do not dwell on it in your mind; instead, behave toward her as a son should toward his mother.” As Rama spoke these words, Bharata, moved deeply, addressed the radiant son of Kausalya—whose brilliance was like the sun, whose countenance shone like the young moon. “O noble one,” Bharata said, “ascend these sandals adorned with gold. Let your feet grace them, for through these, the welfare of all people will be ensured.” Rama, the tiger among men, stepped onto the golden sandals and then stepped down. He handed them to Bharata, that great-souled and radiant brother. Bharata, bowing reverently to the sandals, spoke with devotion: “For fourteen years, I will wear matted hair and bark garments. O descendant of Raghu, I will live outside the city, subsisting on fruits and roots, awaiting your return, O hero. Entrusting the rule of the kingdom to your sandals, O subduer of foes, when the fourteenth year is complete, if I do not see you, O best of Raghu’s line, I will enter the fire.” Having agreed to these solemn words, Rama embraced Bharata with respect, and also embraced Shatrughna. He then spoke to Bharata with affection and gravity: “Protect your mother Kaikeyi; do not be angry with her. You are bound by an oath from me and from Sita, O best of the Raghu lineage.” Having spoken thus, with tears filling his eyes, Rama released his brother from his embrace. Bharata, righteous and powerful, then worshipped the well-adorned sandals, circumambulated Rama, and placed them reverently upon his own head. In due order, he greeted the people, the elders, the ministers, and his brothers, dismissing them with steadfast resolve, unmoved as the mighty Himalaya. The mothers, their voices choked with tears, could not speak to him for their sorrow. Bharata, after respectfully saluting all his mothers, entered his own hut, weeping. Thus concluded the one hundred and twelfth sarga in the glorious Ayodhya Kanda of the holy Ramayana composed by the sage Valmiki. Then, placing the sandals upon his head, Bharata ascended his chariot, his heart consoled by the presence of Shatrughna at his side. The revered sages Vasistha, Vamadeva, and Jabali, steadfast in their vows, along with all the honored ministers, led the way. The procession moved eastward, toward the beautiful Mandakini river, circumambulating the great mountain Chitrakuta. Along the way, Bharata and his army beheld thousands of delightful minerals and wondrous sights. Not far from Chitrakuta, Bharata saw the hermitage where the sage Bharadvaja resided. Arriving there, wise Bharata descended from his chariot and bowed low at the sage’s feet. Bharadvaja, delighted, greeted him warmly: “O dear one, has your task been accomplished? Have you met with Rama?” Bharata, ever devoted to his brother, replied to the sage, “Though urged by his teacher and by me, Rama, steadfast and greatly pleased, spoke to Vasistha: ‘I will uphold my father’s promise exactly as it was made; for fourteen years, as my father vowed.’” Vasistha, wise and skillful in words, then addressed Rama: “Give these adorned golden sandals with joy, O wise one, for they will safeguard Ayodhya’s welfare under your care.” Thus addressed, Rama, facing east, mounted the sandals and entrusted them to me for the rule. Now, permitted and withdrawn by the great-souled Rama, I return to Ayodhya bearing these auspicious sandals. Hearing these noble words, the sage Bharadvaja spoke to Bharata with even greater affection: “This is not surprising, O tiger among men, best among those of noble conduct. As water flows naturally into a hollow, so does virtue reside in you. Your father Dasaratha, mighty-armed, is like nectar, for you are such a son—knower of dharma and devoted to righteousness.” After speaking thus to the great-souled sage, Bharata, with joined palms, took his leave, touching the sage’s feet. Then, after circumambulating Bharadvaja repeatedly, the illustrious Bharata departed for Ayodhya with his ministers. With chariots, wagons, horses, elephants, and a vast army, they journeyed on, following Bharata. Soon, they beheld the divine Yamuna river, adorned with waves, and again the auspicious Ganges, with its pure waters. Having crossed the lovely, water-filled river with their companions, they entered the charming city of Shringibera with their troops. From Shringibera, they gazed upon Ayodhya once more. But as Bharata beheld Ayodhya, now bereft of both father and brother, his heart was overcome with grief. He turned to his charioteer, his soul tormented by sorrow, and spoke, his words heavy with longing and pain.