In the quiet of the forest hermitage, Rama turned to Lakshmana, his voice tinged with sorrow and gentle reproach. “Lakshmana, such laughter is not fitting here, especially in this sacred place. I know your nature, beloved brother—you are fond of playful teasing. But come now, O wide-eyed one. Our hut stands empty. Surely, Sita has either been devoured or carried away by the rākṣasas.” Rama’s eyes searched the forest anxiously. “She does not come to me, lamenting as she would, O Lakshmana. Look at these herds of deer—their eyes are brimming with tears, as if they are telling me that the goddess Sita was taken by the night-roaming demons. Alas, my noble one, where have you gone? Alas, virtuous, beautiful lady!” His grief deepened as he continued, “Today, Kaikeyi will finally be satisfied, O goddess Sita, for I have returned without you, though I set out with you by my side. How shall I enter my empty inner chambers? The people will say I am powerless and pitiless. Indeed, my fearfulness is plainly revealed by Sita’s abduction, and by my return from exile to King Janaka, lord of Mithila.” Rama’s mind raced with worry and shame. “How will I be able to face the king of Videha, Janaka, when he asks about Sita’s welfare and sees me separated from her? Tormented by the loss of his daughter, he will surely fall into delusion. Or else, I will not go to the city ruled by Bharata. Even heaven itself, without her, seems empty to me. Therefore, leaving me here in this forest, you should go to the auspicious city of Ayodhya.” He turned to Lakshmana with heavy finality. “But I could never live without Sita—not in any way. Embrace Bharata tightly and tell him these words from me: ‘You are permitted by Rama to rule the earth. And my mother Kaikeyi and Sumitra, O noble one, must be cared for by you. And Kausalya too is to be respectfully greeted according to propriety, by my command; she must be diligently protected by you, who walk the path of virtue. The destruction of Sita and myself must be fully reported to my mother by you, O destroyer of foes.’” Thus, as the sorrowful Raghava lamented, having entered the forest without Sita of lovely hair, Lakshmana too, his face stricken with fear, became deeply distressed and greatly afflicted in mind. Now begins the sixty-third sarga. Deprived of his beloved and tormented by grief and delusion, Rama’s sorrowful appearance made his brother despondent as well, and he again sank into intense despair. Rama, overwhelmed by the loss and weeping with anguish, spoke to Lakshmana, who was also overcome by sorrow. “I do not think there is another on earth like me who has committed such evil deeds, for sorrow upon sorrow, in succession, breaks my heart and mind. Surely, I must have repeatedly committed sinful acts in the past, and now, as a result, I have fallen into this suffering, entering misery upon misery.” He recounted his woes: “The loss of the kingdom, separation from my kin, my father’s death, and separation from my mother—all these, when I consider them, Lakshmana, fill me with waves of grief. But all this sorrow, O Lakshmana, had subsided in my body after enduring hardship in the forest; yet now, due to Sita’s separation, it has flared up again, like fire suddenly kindled among dry wood.” He pictured Sita’s fate in his mind’s eye. “Surely, that noble lady, frightened, was carried off by a demon, having come near the sky; her sweet voice, distorted by fear, must have cried out repeatedly in terror. Those two breasts of my beloved, beautiful and always adorned with the finest sandalwood, must now, in their rounded form, be smeared with blood and mud—surely, my dear has fallen to such a fate. That face, with its delicate, clear, gentle speech and the mass of curling hair, now subdued by the demon’s power, does not shine—like the moon obscured by Rāhu. The neck of my virtuous beloved, adorned with the necklace that always suited her, has surely been bitten by the demons, who in this desolate place break through and feed on blood. Deprived of me, in the lonely forest, she was seized and dragged away by demons; surely, she cried out in distress like a forlorn curlew, her long, lovely eyes wide as she was released.” He remembered happier times. “Here, together with me, she once sat on the stone slab, noble in conduct; smiling sweetly, Lakshmana, laughing aloud, Sita spoke to you with many words. This Godavari, foremost among rivers, was always dear to my beloved; I wonder if she went there, yet she never goes alone. With a lotus-like face and eyes like lotus petals, she would go to gather lotuses; but even that is unlikely, for she never goes to the pond without me. Indeed, this grove of blossoming trees, filled with many kinds of birds, she might have entered; yet even that is unlikely, for the timid one fears to go alone.” Rama, desperate, called out to the elements. “O Sun, creator and knower of the world, witness of truth and falsehood in all deeds, tell me where my beloved has gone or if she has been taken—reveal everything to me, who am struck by grief. In all the worlds, there is nothing unknown to you; tell me, O Wind, about her who guarded our lineage—whether she is dead, abducted, or wandering the path.” As Rama, his body governed by grief and lamenting, spoke thus, Saumitri, steadfast in spirit, addressed him with timely and proper words. “Cast off sorrow now and embrace courage; let there be resolve in searching for her. For men of determination do not falter in the world, even in the most difficult tasks.” Though Lakshmana spoke with bold resolve, Rama, afflicted and desolate, did not heed his brother’s courage, abandoned his composure, and again was overtaken by great sorrow. Now begins the sixty-fourth sarga. Dejected, Rama spoke to Lakshmana in a sorrowful voice, “Quickly, Lakshmana, go and find out by visiting the Godavari river. Perhaps Sita went to the Godavari to gather lotuses.” Thus addressed by Rama, Lakshmana, swift in movement, went to the beautiful Godavari river. He searched its bathing places thoroughly but found nothing. Returning, he spoke to Rama, his heart heavy, bearing the weight of his brother’s grief.