Stricken with grief, Rama wandered in anguish, his heart overwhelmed by sorrow and his mind lost in a haze of despair, as though abandoned and bereft of all hope. For a time he remained thus, but then his devoted brother Lakshmana, Saumitri, gently approached him. With loving care, Lakshmana pressed Rama’s feet, rousing him from his sorrowful stupor. Lakshmana began to speak words of comfort, reminding Rama of his noble origins: “By great penance and mighty deeds, King Dasharatha gained you, Rama, just as the immortals obtain the nectar of immortality. So bound was he to your virtues that, upon being separated from you, he attained the realm of the gods—just as we have heard of Bharata’s devotion and suffering. “If you, O Kakutstha, cannot bear this sorrow, then who among mere mortals, weaker and of ordinary strength, could possibly endure such pain? Take heart, noblest of men; is there any living being untouched by misfortune? Like fire, sorrow blazes for a moment and then passes away. “O king, if you, in your grief, were to unleash your energy and burn the worlds, where would those already afflicted find refuge? Such is the nature of the world: even Yayati, son of Nahusha, who attained the same realm as Indra, was not spared from calamity. “Remember the great sage Vasishta, our father’s priest, who begot a hundred sons in a single day—all of whom were lost. Even this earth, the revered mother of all beings, sometimes trembles. The Sun and the Moon, upholders of righteousness and the eyes of the world, have suffered eclipses. Even the greatest beings and the gods themselves are not beyond the reach of fate; all embodied creatures are subject to destiny. “Among the gods, O Rama, both good and ill fortune are known—even Indra is not exempt. Therefore, do not grieve. Even if Vaidehi were dead or lost, O Raghava, you should not mourn as ordinary men do. Men like you, who see things as they truly are, remain steadfast even in the greatest hardships, for their vision is unwavering. “So, best of men, reflect with your intellect and discern the truth. The wise know to distinguish good from evil by reason. For actions whose merits and faults are hidden, and whose results are uncertain, the fruits do not come without effort. “O hero, you yourself have often spoken such wisdom to me; who could instruct you—even Brihaspati himself would find it difficult. Your intellect, O wise one, is hard for even the gods to fathom, but grief has clouded your knowledge, so I remind you now. “Consider your divine and human powers, your own valor, O bull among the Ikshvakus. Strive to destroy your enemies, but do not seek to destroy all—find and vanquish only the true evildoer.” Hearing Lakshmana’s well-spoken and profound counsel, Rama, the eldest son of Dasharatha and one who discerns the heart of things, accepted his brother’s words. Mastering his rising anger, the mighty-armed Rama took up his splendid bow and spoke to Lakshmana: “What shall we do, dear brother? Where shall we go? How shall we find Sita in this vast wilderness? Consider this with me.” To Rama, so tormented by grief, Lakshmana replied: “We should search this very Janasthana. It is filled with many rakshasas and entwined with varied trees and creepers. Here are mountain strongholds, ravines, and caves, places where wild beasts dwell, and abodes of Kinnaras and Gandharvas. We must search all these places thoroughly together. Great souls like you, endowed with wisdom, do not falter in adversity—they are like mountains unmoved by the force of the wind.” Thus resolved, Rama and Lakshmana began to search the entire forest together. Rama, still burning with anger, fitted a terrible, razor-sharp arrow to his bow as they pressed on. Suddenly, they came upon a striking sight: the illustrious king of birds, Jatayu, lay fallen to the ground, his form resembling a mountain peak, his body drenched in blood. Seeing this, Rama spoke to Lakshmana: “This vulture-shaped demon must have devoured Sita, the daughter of Videha—there can be no doubt. He must have roamed the forest, seized her, and now, having eaten wide-eyed Sita, he rests at ease. I will slay him with blazing, deadly arrows.” So saying, Rama, furious as if he would shake the earth to its very ocean-boundaries, rushed forward, arrow fitted to his bow. But the great bird, Jatayu, vomiting frothy blood, lifted his voice—faint and piteous—and addressed Rama, son of Dasharatha: “O long-lived one, as you search for the goddess in this great forest, know that both she and my life have been taken by Ravana. O Raghava, with you and Lakshmana absent, I saw the lady Sita seized by the mighty Ravana. I confronted him in battle for her sake, O lord, and in the struggle I destroyed his chariot and parasol, and he fell to the ground.” Thus, the noble Jatayu revealed what had transpired, as Rama and Lakshmana listened, their hearts heavy with sorrow and resolve.