As Rama stood before the battered chariot—its yoke and fittings scarred by hooves and wheels, and its surface sprinkled with drops of blood—he was filled with questions. Who had brought this chariot here, for whom was it meant, and for what purpose had it come to such a state? The scene before him spoke of a great and violent struggle, yet the signs were strange: there were no traces of an army’s passage, no evidence of a host’s movement. Only the marks of a fierce battle between one and another, not two armies, could be seen. Lakshmana, wise and steady, addressed Rama with gentle counsel. “O prince,” he said, “this is the site of a mighty conflict, but not one waged by armies. Do not let your wrath threaten the worlds for the deed of a single person. Gentle rulers, who are peaceful by nature, mete out just punishment, and you, O Rama, are the refuge and highest goal of all beings. Who among gods, rivers, oceans, mountains, Gandharvas, or demons could approve the loss of your wife? None of these can harm you, just as the virtuous cannot be harmed when consecrated. O king, the one who has taken Sita must be found. “With your unrivaled strength and your bow in hand, and with the help of the foremost sages, we shall search the oceans, the mountains, and the forests. We will explore every dreadful cave, every lotus-filled lake, and the realms of gods and Gandharvas. Until we find the one who has taken Sita, if the lords of heaven do not restore your wife by peaceful means, then, O king of Kosala, you may act when the time is right. And if Sita is not returned to you through virtue, persuasion, and humility, then destroy your enemies with arrows as mighty as Indra’s thunderbolts.” Thus, the sixty-sixth chapter of the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, in the Aranya Kanda, comes to an end, and the next begins. Overwhelmed by grief, Rama lamented as one abandoned, his mind lost and distressed by sorrow. Seeing his brother thus, Lakshmana, the son of Sumitra, gently pressed Rama’s feet and roused him from his anguish. “By great austerity and virtue,” Lakshmana reminded him, “King Dasharatha, lord of the earth, gained you as a son, just as the immortals obtain ambrosia. Bound by your virtues, our father attained divinity upon being separated from you, as we have heard from Bharata. “If you, O Kakutstha, cannot endure this sorrow, who else, being ordinary and weak, could possibly bear it? Take heart, best of men; who among all living beings is untouched by misfortune? Like fire, sorrow touches for a moment and then passes away. If, in your grief, you were to burn the worlds with your energy, where would the afflicted find relief? “This is the way of the world: even Yayati, son of Nahusha, who attained Indra’s own realm, faced misfortune. The great sage Vasishta, our father’s priest, begot a hundred sons in a single day, yet all were lost. Even this earth, mother of the world and revered by all, is seen to tremble. The Sun and Moon, upholders of righteousness and the eyes of the world, have suffered eclipses. Even the greatest beings and the gods are not beyond fate; all embodied beings are subject to destiny. Among the gods, like Indra and others, both good and bad fortune are known. You should not grieve. “Even if Vaidehi were dead, even if she were lost, you, O Raghava, should not grieve as an ordinary man would. Those like you, who see all things, do not give way to sorrow, even in the greatest hardships, for their vision is unwavering. Therefore, best of men, reflect with your intellect on the truth; those endowed with wisdom discern good and evil by reason. “For actions whose merits and faults are hidden, and whose results are uncertain, their desired fruits do not arise without effort. You have often spoken thus to me before; who could instruct you—even Brihaspati himself? Your intellect is difficult for even the gods to grasp; but as it is now veiled by grief, I am awakening it. Beholding your divine and human prowess, and your own valor, strive, O bull among the Ikshvakus, for the destruction of your enemies. What use is there, O best of men, in destroying all? You should recognize and eliminate only that wicked enemy.” Thus ends the sixty-sixth sarga, and the next begins. Hearing Lakshmana’s well-spoken words, Rama, the eldest Raghava and knower of truth, accepted his brother’s counsel. Restraining his swelling anger, the mighty-armed Rama took up his splendid bow and spoke to Lakshmana, “What shall we do, dear child? Where shall we go, Lakshmana? By what means shall we find Sita here? Consider this carefully.” To the grief-stricken Rama, Lakshmana replied, “We should search this very Janasthana. It is filled with many Rakshasas, entwined with various trees and creepers, and marked by mountain strongholds, ravines, and caves. There are many dreadful caves, teeming with wild beasts, dwellings of Kinnaras, and abodes of Gandharvas. You ought to search all these places thoroughly with me. Great souls like you, endowed with wisdom, always do so.” Thus, with resolve renewed and purpose clarified, Rama and Lakshmana prepared to search every corner of the forest, determined to find Sita and bring justice to her abductor.