Whoever recites the life-giving story of the Rāmāyaṇa is honored in heaven after death, accompanied by his sons, grandsons, and companions. By reciting it, a Brāhmin gains eloquence, a Kṣatriya attains lordship over the earth, a merchant finds success in trade, and even a Śūdra attains greatness. Now, hear the second chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, the Bālakāṇḍa. Having listened to the words of Nārada, the virtuous and eloquent Vālmīki, together with his disciples, honored the great sage. After a short while, when Nārada had departed for the world of the gods, Vālmīki made his way to the bank of the Tamasā river, not far from the Jahnavī. Upon reaching the bank, Vālmīki saw that the ford was free of mud and spoke to his disciple standing nearby, “Look, Bharadvāja, this ford is free from mud, delightful, with clear water—pleasing to the minds of good people. Set down the water pot, dear one, and hand me my bark garment. I wish to bathe here at this excellent ford of the Tamasā.” Obediently, Bharadvāja, disciplined and devoted, handed his teacher the bark garment. Taking it, Vālmīki wandered about, observing the vast forest in every direction. Nearby, he saw a pair of krauñcha birds moving together, inseparable, their calls sweet and lovely. But then, as the sage watched, a hunter with evil intent killed the male bird, the seat of enmity. Seeing her mate struck down, his body stained with blood and writhing on the ground, the female cried out in a voice of deep sorrow. Separated from her companion, that twice-born bird, with a coppery head, intoxicated and adorned with feathers, mourned bitterly. Witnessing this, compassion arose in the heart of the righteous sage. Moved by that feeling, Vālmīki thought, “This is unrighteous.” Seeing the weeping krauñcha, he spoke these words: “Hunter, may you never attain enduring fame, since you killed one of the krauñcha pair, driven by lust.” As these words left his lips, Vālmīki wondered at what he had spoken, overwhelmed by the bird’s grief. He reflected, “What is this utterance I have spoken?” Gathering his thoughts, the wise sage composed his mind and said to his disciple, “Bound in meter, with syllables arranged and joined with melody—let this verse, born of my grief, remain just so.” His disciple Bharadvāja received these excellent words with joy, and the teacher was pleased. Having performed his ablutions at that holy place, Vālmīki returned, his mind dwelling on the event. Bharadvāja, ever obedient and learned, took up a full water pot and followed behind his teacher. Entering the hermitage with his disciple, the sage, versed in righteousness, sat down, engaged in other conversations, and then settled into meditation. At that moment, Brahmā, the creator of the worlds, the four-faced and radiant Lord himself, came to see the foremost of sages. Seeing Brahmā, Vālmīki immediately rose, controlled his speech, joined his palms in reverence, and stood, filled with utmost wonder. He honored the god with offerings of water for the feet, arghya, a seat, and salutations. Having bowed properly, he inquired after Brahmā’s well-being. The blessed one, having seated himself on the highly honored seat, offered a seat in turn to Vālmīki. Receiving Brahmā’s approval, Vālmīki too took his seat, and as he sat, the Lord of all beings was visibly present. With his mind absorbed in what had happened, Vālmīki entered into meditation, pondering the cruel deed committed by the wicked-hearted hunter. Mourning how such a lovely-voiced krauñcha bird was slain without cause, he again sang the verse in lament for the female krauñcha. Once more, his mind withdrawn inward and immersed in sorrow, Brahmā, smiling, addressed the sage: “Let this verse remain as it is composed; there is no need for deliberation here. By my will alone, O sage, this Sarasvatī has arisen in you. Compose the entire story of Rāma, O best of sages—the righteous and wise Lord—for the world. Tell the account of the steadfast one, as you heard it from Nārada, both the secret and the open events that befell that wise man. Whatever happened to Rāma, to Saumitri, to all the rākṣasas, and to Vaidehī—whether openly or in secret—all that is unknown will become known to you; no falsehood will enter your speech in this poem. Compose the sacred story of Rāma, bound in verses and delightful, for as long as mountains and rivers endure upon the earth. So long as the tale of Rāma, created by you, is told, the story of the Rāmāyaṇa will circulate among people. For that duration, above and below, you will dwell among people.” Having spoken thus, the blessed Brahmā vanished there, and the venerable sage, together with his disciples, departed in wonder.