Adorned with the presence of illustrious sages—Bhrigu, Angiras, Pulastya—and protected by the wisdom of Cyavana, Uddālaka, Śīra, Śaralomā, and others, the sacred assembly shone with spiritual brilliance. The sages, their deerskins tousled from friendly contact, eyes restless with the energy of inquiry, garlands and bracelets swaying as they moved, carried out their ritual circumambulations with effortless grace. They appeared like a constellation of stars, each outshining the next in beauty, like a celestial shower of flowers, or a second radiant orb of the sun itself. In that gathering, Vyāsa gleamed like a network of stars illuminating the sky, while Nārada shone among them as a multitude of stars. Pulastya radiated like the lord of gods among the deities, and Angiras blazed like the sun among the gods. As this assembly of perfected sages descended from the heavens to the earth, the hall of Daśaratha’s son—now filled with these holy beings—seemed to rise up in splendor. Celestial and earthly sages mingled together, their shining forms entwined, illuminating the ten directions with their combined radiance. Their hands were adorned with flutes and bells, holding playful lotuses; their hair was crested with fresh blades of sacred grass and crowned with jeweled diadems. Their heads bore matted locks, twisted into knots and crowned with Kapila’s hair, while their arms were decorated with bracelets, some set with rubies. Clad in bark garments and loincloths, draped with silk garlands, their loose girdles and strings of pearls swayed as they walked. Vasiṣṭha and Viśvāmitra, recognizing the greatness of these sky-walking sages, immediately honored them with the traditional offerings—water for washing, water for their feet, and words of heartfelt welcome. The king, with utmost reverence, worshipped the assembly of siddhas according to all proper rites, and the siddhas in turn greeted him with courteous inquiries and words of goodwill. Mutual affection and enthusiasm filled the hall as each received the other with proper hospitality. The celestial and earthly sages took their seats upon the arranged mats. With words of praise, showers of flowers, and blessings from every direction, they honored Rama, who sat before them with bowed head, humility gracing his noble features. In that radiant assembly, Viśvāmitra, Vasiṣṭha, Vāmadeva, and the ministers were all present, shining with royal splendor. Nārada, son of the gods; Vyāsa, foremost among sages; Marīci, Durvāsā, and the sage Āṅgiras were there as well. Kratu, Pulastya, Pulaha, Sharaloma the eminent sage, Vatsyayana, Bharadvaja, and Vālmīki, the great poet, graced the gathering. Uddalaka, Richika, Sharyati, Cyavana, Ushmapa, Ghrtarci, Shaludi, Valudi, and many others—masters of the Vedas and all their branches, knowers of the ultimate truth, great souls—were present as leaders. With Vasiṣṭha and Viśvāmitra, these sages, including Nārada, spoke together, addressing Rama, whose face was luminous with wisdom: “Ah, indeed, O prince, you have spoken words endowed with auspicious qualities, filled with the essence of supreme nobility and detachment. The meaning of your statements is thoroughly established, clear, appropriate, and evident—noble, worthy of loving practice, unwavering and unconfused. Your words are clear and distinct, pleasing, nourishing, and satisfying; who would not be amazed by the speech spoken by Raghava? “Of a hundred, even one alone is capable of such noble wonder; Bharati herself becomes exclusively skilled in offering the desired meaning through you. O prince, without you, for whom does the young vine of wisdom, bearing the fruit of discernment, blossom so beautifully? He whose heart holds the flame-tip of wisdom, as yours does, shines brightly, illuminating all—such a person is remembered through time. “The mechanisms of flesh, blood, and bone, and all things that have passed, draw objects toward themselves, but consciousness is not found in them. Birth, death, old age, and suffering follow again and again, yet bewildered beings do not reflect on the cycle of existence. Only rarely, and in some place, is one seen whose mind is pure, capable of reflecting on both past and future, as is this slayer of enemies. “Forms that yield the supreme fruit of wonder and are auspicious are indeed rare in the world, like sandalwood trees among other trees. True vision in the birth of the world, the marvel of one’s own discernment—within such noble disposition, a different sight is seen. Trees bearing abundant fruit and blossoms are easily found in the land, but sandalwood trees are not. It is true that in every forest there are trees with abundant fruits and leaves, but a clove tree, with its unique wonder, is not always easily found. “Just as moonlight is to the cool-rayed moon, or a cluster of blossoms to a splendid tree, or fragrance to a flower—so is Rama’s marvel witnessed. Because of this creation, fashioned by the overwhelming mischief of fate, O best of twice-born, the essence that comes from a world burned by suffering is exceedingly rare. Those who strive with understanding to attain that essence, who are repositories of fame, are blessed, esteemed among the noble, and truly the best of men. “In these three worlds, there is truly no one equal to Rama—wise, noble-hearted, and great-souled; this is our conviction. Even if something delights all the worlds, if it does not bear fruit in Raghava’s mind, then it is nothing; indeed, we sages are clearly of ruined understanding.” When the great sage Nārada had spoken these words in the assembly, Viśvāmitra also, with deep affection, addressed Rama, who sat at the front: “O Raghava, there is nothing else for you to know; you are the foremost among the wise, for by your own subtle intellect you have understood everything.