As the celestial gathering unfolded, the great sages Vasiṣṭha and Viśvāmitra rose immediately to honor those radiant beings who traversed the heavens. With reverence, they offered water for washing and for their feet, accompanied by warm words of welcome. The king himself performed the worship of the assembly of siddhas, observing every proper rite. In turn, the siddhas greeted the king with gentle inquiries and words of goodwill. Mutual affection and enthusiasm filled the air as each party received the hospitality of the other. The celestial and earthly sages settled comfortably upon the mats that had been arranged for them. Then, from all sides, words of praise, showers of flowers, and hymns resounded, honoring Rama, who sat before them with bowed head. The assembly was resplendent, radiant with royal splendor: Viśvāmitra, Vasiṣṭha, Vāmadeva, and the king’s ministers were all present. Among them were Nārada, the son of the gods; Vyāsa, foremost among sages; Marīci, Durvāsā, and the venerable Āṅgiras. Kratu, Pulastya, Pulaha, the eminent Sharaloma, Vatsyayana, Bharadvaja, and Valmiki, the preeminent sage, joined them. Uddalaka, Richika, Sharyati, Cyavana, Ushmapa, Ghrtarci, Shaludi, and Valudi—all these and many others, accomplished in the Vedas and their branches, who had realized that which is to be known, great souls and leaders—were present in that sacred assembly. Alongside Vasiṣṭha and Viśvāmitra, these sages, including Nārada, addressed Rama, whose face shone with radiance. They spoke with admiration: "Indeed, O prince, your words are endowed with auspicious qualities, filled with the essence of supreme nobility and detachment. The meaning you have expressed is well established—clear, appropriate, and evident; noble, worthy of loving practice, unwavering and free from confusion. Your speech is pleasing, nourishing, and satisfying, articulated with clarity and distinction. Who would not be amazed by the words spoken by you, Raghava? Of a hundred, even one alone is capable of all noble wonder; Bharati herself becomes exclusively skilled in offering the meaning you desire. 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 by the wise. The mechanisms of flesh, blood, and bone, and the many 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 upon 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 you do, O slayer of enemies. Forms that yield the supreme fruit of wonder and are auspicious are indeed rare in the world, like sandalwood trees among ordinary trees. True vision in the birth of the world, the marvel of one's own discernment—within such a noble disposition, a different sight is seen. Trees bearing abundant fruit and blossoms are easily found upon the land, but sandalwood trees are not. 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, filled with affection, addressed Rama, who was seated at the front. "O Raghava," he said, "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. Only a slight cleansing is needed for your mind, which is always naturally pure, like a flawless mirror of clear understanding. Just as the mind of Śuka, son of Vyāsa, so too your mind seeks only a state of rest within, even after knowing what is to be known. O revered one, how is it that the mind of Śuka, son of Vyāsa, was at first not at rest, and then later became restful again? Rama, listen as I describe to you the story of Vyāsa’s son, which is equal to the account of the end of my own self, and reveals the cause of the end of births. He who sits beside your father, Vyāsa, resembling the color of collyrium and settled upon a golden seat, is the venerable sage radiant like the sun. He had a son with a face like the moon, skilled in wisdom, named Śuka, a great sage, established like the very embodiment of sacrifice. As he deeply examined the course of the world in his heart, just as you do, a strong discernment arose in him as well. Through his own discernment, O wise one, he himself carefully investigated for a long time and attained that which is true. When his mind, tireless, reached the ultimate reality by itself, he did not hold the belief that 'this is not the true thing,' nor did he attain rest in the Self. His mind simply became still, free from restlessness, withdrawing from the many fleeting pleasures, like a cātaka bird turning away from the earth.