Rāma, ever thoughtful and compassionate, spoke with concern to the sage. He wondered aloud whether his younger brother Lakṣmaṇa, through any carelessness, might have acted in a way unbefitting himself in the eyes of the sages. Likewise, he hoped that Sītā, devoted to serving the sage and attentive to Rāma, had not, through negligence, behaved in a manner unsuitable for her. The sage, aged by years and ascetic practice, his body trembling as if from old age, addressed Rāma with gentle reassurance. “Dear one,” he said, “how could there be any misconduct by Vaidehī, who possesses noble character and delights in virtue, especially among ascetics? This concern among the ascetics arises solely because of you; frightened by the demons, they converse among themselves.” He explained that a certain demon named Khara, brother of Rāvaṇa, had uprooted all the ascetics dwelling in Janasthāna. Khara was bold, cruel, a devourer of men, arrogant and wicked, and could not tolerate Rāma. Since Rāma had come to reside in the hermitage, the demons had begun to harass the ascetics, appearing in hideous, terrifying forms—monstrous and deformed, displaying dreadful appearances. With vile and impure acts, these demons quickly attacked other ascetics, standing before them in ignoble ways. In the hermitages, they hid themselves unnoticed and delighted in harassing the ascetics, causing them distress. They stole ladles and vessels, extinguished the sacred fires with water, and crushed water pots just as sacrifices were about to begin. Because these wicked ones had defiled the hermitages, the sages, wishing to leave, urged the sage to go to another place. The sage continued, “Therefore, O Rāma, before those evil ones inflict bodily harm upon the ascetics, we shall abandon this hermitage. There is a beautiful forest, rich in roots and fruits, not far from here; I, together with my followers, will again take refuge in our old hermitage. Khara, too, has formerly acted unjustly toward you, dear one; if you are inclined, go with us from here. For one who is always uncertain about his family’s safety, O Rāghava, even for the capable, dwelling here today would be difficult.” Though Rāma wished to persuade the ascetic with further words, he could not restrain him. Having greeted, taken leave of, and reassured Rāma, the leader of the hermitage departed, leaving with his community. Rāma respectfully followed the sage and his group for a distance, saluted the chief sage, and, with their full approval and instructions, returned to his own blessed dwelling. Yet Rāma did not leave the hermitage, even for a moment, though it was deserted by the sages. The ascetics, steadfast in the ways of the seers, always followed Rāma. Thus ended the one hundred sixteenth sarga of the glorious Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa in the holy Rāmāyaṇa composed by Vālmīki. After the ascetics had departed, Rāma reflected and, for many reasons, did not find that place suitable for dwelling. He remembered how Bharata had seen him here, along with his mothers and the people of the city, and his mind, recalling them, constantly grieved. Because the great-souled Bharata had set up his camp there, the ground was greatly trampled by the dung of horses and elephants. Therefore, thinking it best to go elsewhere, Rāma set out, accompanied by Vaidehī and Lakṣmaṇa. He, of great fame, reached the hermitage of Atri and offered his respects. The venerable Atri received him as a son, personally arranging all hospitality and honoring them well, kindly comforting both Saumitri and the noble Sītā. Atri addressed his aged wife, who had come to him, honored and respected, and comforted her, being a knower of righteousness and devoted to the welfare of all beings. The eminent sage said to Vaidehī, “Receive Anasūyā, the highly fortunate ascetic, who follows the path of righteousness.” He also spoke of that ascetic, devoted to righteousness, to Rāma. Atri recounted how, when the world was scorched for ten years by drought without interruption, Anasūyā produced roots and fruits and caused the Ganges to flow. Endowed with fierce austerity and adorned with disciplines, she had performed great penance for ten thousand years. Anasūyā, purified by vows and having removed obstacles, hastened for the sake of the gods’ work and created a night lasting ten days; she was like a mother to them, he said. Atri urged, “Let Vaidehī approach this renowned woman, worthy of reverence by all beings, aged and always free from anger, known in the world as Anasūyā, who has gained fame through her deeds.” When the sage spoke thus, Rāma replied, “So be it,” and then addressed Sītā, who knows righteousness, with these excellent words: “Princess, you have heard what this sage has spoken; for your own welfare, quickly approach the ascetic.” Sītā, hearing these words of Rāma, who wished for her good, approached the aged wife who knows righteousness. Anasūyā was frail, wrinkled, aged, her hair pale with old age, always trembling in body like a banana plant in the wind. Sītā, highly fortunate, greeted Anasūyā, devoted to her husband, without hesitation, and stated her own name. Vaidehī, having respectfully greeted the blameless ascetic, with hands joined in reverence and delighted, inquired about her well-being.