Having reflected on the greatness of the noble sages whose hermitage they had visited, Rama, ever righteous and mindful, spoke to Lakshmana, who himself was steadfast and devoted to their welfare. “O gentle Lakshmana,” Rama said, “I have beheld the wondrous hermitage of those self-controlled sages—a place where tigers and deer live together in harmony, trusting each other, and where countless birds fill the air with their presence.” He continued, “At the sacred fords of the seven seas, we have performed our ablutions and offered oblations to our ancestors as is proper. The inauspicious has been dispelled, and good fortune now favors us. Because of this, my heart is gladdened, O Lakshmana. O tiger among men, a sense of auspiciousness fills me—let us go to the delightful Pampa lake.” Rama pointed out, “Not far from there shines Rishyamuka mountain, where the righteous Sugriva, son of the Sun, dwells. Ever fearful of Vali, Sugriva stays there with four other monkeys. I am eager to meet Sugriva, foremost among monkeys, for the search for Sita depends on him.” As Rama spoke these words, Saumitri replied, “Let us go there quickly; my own mind urges me onward.” With this resolve, the two brothers departed from the hermitage, and the lord of men set forth. Together, Rama and Lakshmana journeyed and soon reached the Pampa lake, their eyes taking in the flower-laden trees all around. The great forest resounded with the cries of koyashtika, arjunaka, shatapatra, and kiraka birds, among many others. Rama, burning with longing, gazed upon the various trees and lakes as he approached the great pool. From afar, they reached the water-bearing lake known as Matanga’s pool, and Rama entered it. The two sons of Raghu, composed and undisturbed, went forth, though Rama, son of Dasharatha, was weighed down by grief. He entered the lovely lotus-pond, filled with blooming lotuses and surrounded by tilaka, ashoka, punnaga, bakula, and udalaka trees. The pond was dense with beautiful groves, its waters crowded with lotuses, clear as crystal, and spread with smooth sand—truly delightful. Fish and turtles crowded its waters, trees adorned its banks, and creepers entwined the trunks as if surrounded by companions. It was frequented by Kinnaras, serpents, Gandharvas, Yakshas, and Rakshasas, covered with various trees and vines—a beautiful reservoir of cool water. Red lotuses and fragrant water-lilies, white clusters of kumuda flowers, and blue blooming lilies made it appear like a colorful tapestry. The pond was filled with lotuses and blue water-lilies, abundant with fragrance, bordered by blossoming mango groves, and resounded with the calls of peacocks. Seeing the enchanting Pampa, Rama, together with Saumitri, the radiant son of Dasaratha, lamented. The banks were adorned with tilaka, bījapūra, banyan, and white trees, with blooming oleanders and fully flowered punnaga; jasmine, kundas, clumps of bandīra, and niculas; ashoka, saptaparna, kataka, and atimukta trees; and many other diverse trees, making the landscape as beautiful as a beloved woman. On its bank stood the previously mentioned mountain, adorned with minerals—Rishyamuka—its trees blooming in various colors. There dwelled Sugriva, son of the great Riksharaja, mighty and renowned. Rama urged Lakshmana, “Approach Sugriva, the king of the monkeys, O best of men.” Yet, Rama’s heart was heavy, and he spoke again, “How can I live, Lakshmana, without Sita?” Tormented by love, his mind fixed on nothing but Sita, Rama entered the lotus-filled Pampa with Lakshmana, uttering words of supreme sorrow. They proceeded gradually, observing the forest, and saw Pampa, whose groves were beautiful to behold, teeming with many kinds of birds. Together, they entered it. Now begins the first sarga of the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. There, upon seeing her—the beautiful Pampa—Rama’s senses trembled with joy, though his heart was overcome by desire and longing. He spoke to Saumitri: “Behold, O Saumitri, Pampa’s waters are clear as beryl, adorned with blooming lotuses and blue water-lilies, beautified by many trees. Look at the forest of Pampa, delightful to see, where mountains shine and trees stand tall like peaks.” Yet Rama confessed, “Grief oppresses me, tormented as I am by sorrow for Bharata and the abduction of Vaidehī. Even though I am overwhelmed by sorrow, Pampa, adorned with the Citrakuta forest, shines beautifully—scattered with many kinds of flowers, cool-watered, and auspicious. Covered with lotuses, exceedingly pleasing to behold, it is frequented by serpents and wild beasts, and filled with deer and birds.” He pointed out the blue and yellow grassland, radiant as if adorned with clusters of flowers from the trees. The mountain peaks, abundant with heavy blossoms, were embraced by flowering creepers everywhere. “This gentle breeze, O Saumitri, is delightful; the season is filled with passion, fragrant and sweet, as trees bear fresh flowers and fruit. See, O Saumitri, the forms of these flower-laden forests, as they pour down showers of blossoms like clouds releasing rain.” Thus, amid the beauty of Pampa, Rama’s heart remained torn between the splendor of nature and the sorrow of separation, as he and Lakshmana pressed onward toward their meeting with Sugriva, and the hope of finding Sita.