ಹೃದಯವನ್ನು ಸ್ಪರ್ಶಿಸುವ ಶರತ್ ಕಾಲದ ಆಕಾಶ, ನಿರ್ಮಲ ಚಂದ್ರನ ಬೆಳಕು ಹಾಗೂ ಚಂದ್ರಕಾಂತದಿಂದ ಆಲಂಕೃತವಾದ ರಾತ್ರಿ—all these sights filled Rama’s mind as he gazed upon them. Sugriva, immersed in pleasures, Janaka’s lost daughter Sita, and the passage of time weighed heavily on Rama’s heart, plunging him into deep despair. But after a moment, regaining his composure, the wise prince Raghava began to think of Vaidehi, whose presence always dwelled in his heart. He saw the clear sky, devoid of lightning and clouds, echoing with the calls of cranes and sarus birds, and his pain overflowed in lamentation. Seated atop a mountain adorned with golden veins, Rama, beholding the autumn sky, let his thoughts drift to his beloved Sita. He remembered the times when the young Sita delighted in the ashram, surrounded by the sounds of cranes and sarus birds. “How does she find joy now, without me?” he wondered. Looking at the blossoming, pure trees shining like gold, he sorrowed, “How can she, seeing all these, but not seeing me, find happiness?” He recalled how she once awoke to the gentle calls of swans with her sweet voice. “Now, that lovely-limbed one—how does she find joy?” he questioned. Hearing the cries of chakravāka birds with their companions, he pondered how Sita, with eyes wide as lotuses, must be now. Though he wandered through lakes, rivers, wells, forests, and woods, Rama found no happiness without her, the doe-eyed one. He thought, “Perhaps, separated from me, and due to her delicate nature, desire—unceasing as the autumn wind—torments that radiant woman far away.” Thus, Rama, the best among men, lamented—like a bird or a deer longing for water from the lord of the gods. As Rama searched the beautiful mountain slopes for fruit, Lakshmana, radiant with fortune, saw his elder brother turned away, overwhelmed by unbearable grief, senseless and alone in the wilderness. Saumitri, deeply troubled and hastening, spoke to his dejected brother. “Why, noble one, do you submit to desire? Why accept defeat of your own strength? When shame restrains your concentration, why does discipline not turn it back? Direct your effort to action, calmness of mind, the right time guided by concentration, the strength of allies, unwavering courage, and the cause of your own duty, dear brother. O lord of men, Janaki, protected by you, cannot be easily taken by another; nor, O hero worthy of the best, does anyone approach blazing fire and remain unburned.” To Lakshmana, steadfast and invincible, Rama spoke words marked by character—beneficial, wholesome, grounded in policy, and imbued with righteousness and purpose. “Undoubtedly, one must consider what is to be done and follow the proper course of action; but, prince, the fruit of great and formidable valor should not be doubted.” Thinking of Maithili, whose eyes are like lotus petals, Rama spoke to Lakshmana, his lips parched: “Having satisfied the earth with water, Indra, his task accomplished, stands firm after bringing forth the crops. The clouds, with deep and resonant thunder, led by mountains and trees, have released their waters and now, prince, are at rest. The clouds, dark as blue lotus petals, have turned all ten directions dusky; their force spent, they are like elephants freed from rut. The rainstorms, filled with water, swift and fragrant with kutaja and arjuna, have ceased, gentle one, after sweeping through. Lakshmana, the thunder of clouds, elephants, and peacocks, and the roar of waterfalls, has suddenly fallen silent. The mountains, their slopes washed clean by heavy rains, shine as if freshly anointed, gleaming with the rays of the moon.” “Now autumn has come, dividing its beauty among the branches of saptacchada trees, the radiance of stars, sun, and moon, and the playful movements of noble elephants. The beauty of fortune, adorned with the qualities of autumn, shines forth with wondrous variety, resting upon many supports, and is especially radiant in the lotus ponds awakened by the touch of the sun's rays. Swans with lovely, broad wings, dear to the god of love and dusted with lotus pollen, have arrived and play together with chakravāka birds on the sandbanks of the great rivers. Splendor appears in many forms: among elephants emboldened by rut, among herds of proud cattle, and in the clear waters of flowing rivers.” “Looking at the sky, now free from clouds, and at the forests where peacocks have shed their jeweled feathers, the peahens, their beloved voices now silent and their former beauty gone, absorbed in meditation, have abandoned their festivities. The forest groves seem illuminated by golden-yellow, eye-delighting trees, their branches bowed under the weight of abundant blossoms, exuding charming and gentle fragrances. Today, the movements of the best of elephants—surrounded by their beloved mates, fond of lotus ponds, intoxicated and eager for pleasure, their bodies fragrant with flowers—are slow in the forest.” “The sky is clearly bright, its color washed clean as if by weapons; the rivers flow with scant water; cool breezes, fragrant with blue lotuses, blow; and the directions, freed from darkness, are luminous. The earth, its mud dried up by the sun's heat and its thick dust long settled, is now ready for the endeavors of kings who are mutually hostile—this is the time for their activity. The bulls, emboldened by the qualities of autumn, delighted, their bodies covered in dust, now intoxicated and eager for battle, stand among the cows and bellow.” “A female elephant, filled with intense longing and deep affection, accompanied by her companions and moving slowly, follows her intoxicated mate as he walks through the forest, surrounding him on all sides. The peacocks, having left behind their splendid, self-adorned feathers and come to the riverbanks, move on sadly and dispirited, as if scolded by the flocks of cranes. The lordly elephants, with broken tusks and mighty roars, frighten the ducks and chakravāka birds, and, disturbing again and again the water in the lakes adorned with blooming lotuses, drink deeply. In the rivers, now free from mud, sandy, clear, and filled with herds of cattle, resounding with the cries of cranes and waterfowl, the swans joyfully descend.” ಇಂತೆ, ರಾಮನು ಶರತ್ ಕಾಲದ ಪ್ರಕೃತಿ, ತನ್ನ ಪ್ರಿಯ ಸೀತೆಯ ನೆನಪು, ಮತ್ತು ತನ್ನ ದುಃಖವನ್ನು ಲಕ್ಷ್ಮಣನಿಗೆ ಹಂಚಿಕೊಂಡನು; ಲಕ್ಷ್ಮಣನು ಧೈರ್ಯ ಮತ್ತು ಕರ್ತವ್ಯವನ್ನು ನೆನಪಿಸಿದನು. ಪ್ರಕೃತಿಯ ವೈಭವ, ಪ್ರಾಣಿ ಮತ್ತು ಪಕ್ಷಿಗಳ ಚಲನೆಗಳು, ಮತ್ತು ಕಾಲಚಕ್ರ—all these became part of Rama’s contemplation, as he awaited the right moment and the reunion with Sita.