Rāma, steadfast in virtue, spoke gently to Sītā, the daughter of Janaka: “O Sītā, the promise I made to the sages dwelling in the Daṇḍaka forest—I have pledged it, and while I live, I cannot break my word. It is my cherished principle never to act otherwise towards the sages. For their sake, I would abandon even my own life, or you, Sītā, along with Lakṣmaṇa. But a promise, especially one made to the brāhmaṇas, I cannot forsake. Therefore, I must certainly protect these sages. Even if I had not spoken such words, O Vaidehī, how could I make such a pledge again? Out of affection and friendship, you have spoken these concerns to me. I am fully satisfied with you, Sītā; for one who is unworthy is not instructed thus. Your words are fitting and appropriate for one of your noble lineage, O beautiful one. You are my companion in righteousness, more precious to me than life itself.” Having spoken thus to his beloved Sītā, the daughter of the king of Mithilā, the great-souled Rāma, bearing his bow, set out with Lakṣmaṇa toward the delightful hermitages. Rāma walked ahead, Sītā, radiant as ever, was in the middle, and behind them followed Lakṣmaṇa, holding his bow at the ready. Together, they journeyed on, observing rocky slopes, dense forests, and charming rivers, all in the company of Sītā. Along the way, they saw cranes and chakravāka birds wandering along the riverbanks, and lakes filled with blooming lotuses, alive with waterfowl. Herds of deer, intoxicated and horned, bounded through the woods, while buffaloes, wild boars, and elephants—some hostile to the trees—roamed nearby. As the sun began to set, their long journey brought them to a beautiful lake, vast and tranquil, stretching ten yojanas wide. The lake was crowded with lotuses and water-lilies, adorned by herds of elephants, and filled with cranes, swans, and kadamba birds, teeming with aquatic life. In that charming lake with its clear waters, the sound of singing and musical instruments drifted upon the air, though no one could be seen. Curious at this marvel, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa approached a sage named Dharmabhṛt and questioned him: “O great sage, hearing these wondrous sounds, all of us have become greatly curious. Please tell us what this is.” Thus addressed, the sage, devoted to righteousness, began to recount the power and story of the lake. “Once, the great sage Māṇḍakarṇi performed intense austerities for ten thousand years, subsisting only on air, while residing within the waters of this very lake. In time, all the gods, led by Agni, became disturbed by his growing power and gathered together, troubled in mind, saying, ‘This sage desires a place among us.’ To obstruct his asceticism, the gods appointed five chief apsarases, radiant as lightning, to distract him. Through the charm of these apsarases, the sage, who had seen the highest and lowest, was brought under the sway of passion, fulfilling the gods’ intent. Those five apsarases became the wives of the sage, and in the depths of this lake, a hidden house was built for them. There, the apsarases dwell as they please, delighting the sage—who has now embraced youth—with their ascetic practices and union. The sounds you hear—the music, the jingling of ornaments, the enchanting songs—come from their playful activities within the lake.” Rāghava listened with wonder, accepting the sage’s words together with his illustrious brother Lakṣmaṇa. As they spoke, Rāma beheld a circle of hermitages ahead, surrounded by kusa grass and garments of bark, filled with the divine radiance of Brahman. Rāghava entered there with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa into that splendid circle of hermitages. There, he dwelled comfortably, honored by the great sages, and visited the hermitages of the ascetics in turn. The master of mighty weapons, Rāma, had previously dwelt among them, sometimes for several months, sometimes for an entire year. At times, his stay would be four, five, or six months in different places; elsewhere, he would remain for more months, sometimes longer than half a year. In those hermitages of the sages, Rāghava lived happily for three months, then eight months. Thus, as he dwelled in harmony among the sages, ten years passed, with Rāghava journeying about with Sītā by his side. In time, he again arrived at the hermitage of Suteekṣṇa. Upon reaching it, Rāma was honored by the sages. Even there, Rāma, the subduer of foes, stayed for some time. While residing in the hermitage, he respectfully approached the great sage Suteekṣṇa and, after being seated, spoke: “O revered one, the eminent sage Agastya dwells in this forest. I have always heard tales of him, but due to the vastness of this forest, I do not know the location of his hermitage. Where is the delightful hermitage of that wise, great sage? For the sake of the revered one, I wish to approach him with my brother and Sītā. I wish to go to Agastya and pay my respects; this great desire fills my heart. That I might serve that foremost sage myself—” Hearing these words of Rāma, the righteous one, the sage Suteekṣṇa prepared to reply.