For your sake, O tiger among men, Śabarī—who was born on the banks of Pampā and addressed with such kindness—now spoke, her heart pure and righteous. Rāghava, knowing her to be wise in the ways of the world despite her being shunned by society, questioned her about the true power of those great souls descended from the lineage of Danu, for she was well acquainted with their deeds. “I have heard of their greatness,” Rāma said, “but I wish to see it with my own eyes, if you permit.” At these words, Śabarī, eager to serve, led Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa into the heart of the forest. “Behold,” she said, “this vast woodland, dense as a rain cloud, teeming with beasts and birds of every kind.” She guided them further and declared, “This is the forest of Mataṅga, famed far and wide, O delight of the Raghus. Here, my noble-minded teachers, radiant in their splendor, performed their sacrifices. They built a sacred altar and worshipped with powerful mantras.” She pointed: “Here is the altar, facing east, where my revered teachers, their hands trembling from the exertion of their rites, offered flowers in devotion.” “By the power of their austerity, O best of the Raghus, this altar still shines with incomparable brilliance, illuminating all directions. When they could go no further, exhausted by fasting and weariness, they summoned the seven seas with their minds alone, and the waters gathered here—see them before you.” She showed them the trees: “After their ritual baths, they placed their bark garments on these branches. Even now, O delight of the Raghus, those garments have not dried, though much time has passed. The flowers they offered, together with blue lotuses, remain fresh and unwithered, though these acts were performed long ago for the sake of the gods.” With gentle devotion, Śabarī concluded, “You have now seen this entire forest and heard its story. With your permission, I wish to relinquish this body. I long to join those noble-minded sages whose hermitage I served faithfully as an attendant.” Hearing her righteous words, Rāghava and Lakṣmaṇa were filled with incomparable joy. “How wonderful!” Rāma exclaimed. Then he spoke to Śabarī, steadfast in her vows: “You have honored me, good lady. Go where you wish, as your heart desires.” Thus addressed, Śabarī—her hair matted, clad in bark and black antelope skin—having received Rāma’s permission, offered herself into the sacrificial fire. In that moment, she shone like blazing fire and ascended to heaven, adorned with divine ornaments, anointed with heavenly unguents, and garlanded with celestial flowers. There, she appeared in radiant garments, lovely to behold, illuminating the heavens like a flash of lightning. By her deep concentration, Śabarī reached that sacred realm where those virtuous and great sages dwell. When Śabarī had ascended to heaven by her own spiritual power, Rāghava began to reflect with his brother Lakṣmaṇa. Considering the greatness of those noble souls, the righteous Rāghava spoke: “O gentle one, I have seen the hermitage of those self-controlled sages—truly wondrous! There, tigers and deer dwell together in trust, and many birds reside in peace. “At the sacred fords of the seven seas, O Lakṣmaṇa, we have performed our ablutions and offered oblations to our ancestors. The inauspicious has been dispelled, and good fortune now shines upon us. My heart is gladdened, O Lakṣmaṇa. An auspicious feeling arises within me; come, let us go to the delightful Pampā lake. “Not far from there rises Rishyamūka mountain, where the righteous Sugrīva, son of the Sun, dwells. Ever fearful of Vāli, he stays there with four other monkeys. I am eager to meet Sugrīva, the foremost among monkeys, for the search for Sītā depends on him.” As Rāma spoke these words, Saumitri replied eagerly, “Let us go there quickly; my mind, too, urges me onward.” Thus, departing from the hermitage, the lord of men set out. Journeying together, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa soon reached the Pampā lake, gazing at the trees heavy with blossoms. The great forest echoed with the cries of koyashtika, arjunaka, shatapatra, and kiraka birds, and many others besides. Rāma, burning with longing for Sītā, beheld the various trees and lakes as they made their way to the great pool. From afar, they reached the water-bearing lake known as Mataṅga’s pool, and Rāma entered it. The two sons of Raghu, composed and undisturbed, went together, though Rāma, son of Daśaratha, was heavy with grief. He entered the lovely lotus-pond, filled with blooming lotuses, surrounded by groves of tilaka, ashoka, punnāga, bakula, and udalaka trees. The pond was dense with beautiful groves, its waters crowded with lotuses, clear as crystal, and spread with smooth sand—a place of delight. The lake teemed with fish and turtles, its banks adorned by trees entwined with creepers, as if surrounded by companions. It was frequented by Kinnaras, serpents, Gandharvas, Yakṣas, and Rākṣasas, and covered with various trees and vines—a beautiful reservoir of cool water. The waters were red with lotuses, fragrant with water-lilies, white with clusters of kumuda flowers, and blue with blooming lilies, appearing like a colorful tapestry. Filled with lotuses and blue water-lilies, abundant with fragrance, bordered by blossoming mango groves, and resounding with the calls of peacocks, the Pampā lake shone before them—a place of beauty and peace, awaiting the next chapter of their journey.