When the chief sage had spoken, he declared, “He will become a great soul, one who knows the entirety of the world, untouched by pleasure and pain, and equal toward clod, stone, and gold.” Hearing these words, the king’s heart was filled with contentment. Desiring to see his son, he sent forth another group of messengers to summon Rama. Some time passed, and Rama, having sat quietly at home, rose from his seat with calm determination, intent on going to his father. He shone with the radiance of the sun rising from behind a mountain. Accompanied by a few attendants and his brothers, Rama made his way toward his father’s auspicious court—a place that seemed as resplendent as heaven, the abode of the lord of gods. From a distance, Rama beheld King Dasharatha, surrounded by the royal assembly, appearing like Indra encircled by a host of gods. On either side of the king stood the revered sages Vasistha and Vishvamitra, and he was protected by a council of ministers skilled in all the meanings of scripture. Graceful women stood nearby, holding charming fly-whisks, their poised presence reminiscent of the embodied quarters of the sky. As Rama approached, Vasistha, Vishvamitra, Dasharatha, and their companions saw him coming from afar, resembling Guha, the lord of the forest. Rama moved with the unwavering pride of steadfastness, his presence as cooling as the Himalayas, endowed with universal service and a deep, resonant voice. He was gentle and balanced, noble in both humility and strength, his form lovely and tranquil—a vessel for the welfare of others. In the dawn of his youth, Rama was adorned by a harmony of effort and calm, his mind untroubled and nearly free of desire. Having pondered the ways of the world, he moved in the realm of pure qualities, sustained by singular greatness, as if embraced by virtues themselves. His noble essence filled the inner chamber of his mind, displaying the highest through an undisturbed state. Thus, adorned with a multitude of virtues, Rama, the descendant of Raghu, appeared from afar, his garments and ornaments shining in pure, radiant white. As he entered, he bowed, his beautiful crest-jewel shimmering with moving rays, his head graced with the majesty of a mountain that causes the earth to tremble. First, he bowed to his father, then to the revered sages, then to the Brahmins, then to his relatives, and finally to the teachers distinguished by their greater virtues. He graciously accepted the salutations offered by the people of the kingdom, his presence and sweet words blessing them in return. Receiving the blessings of the sages, Rama, his mind at peace, approached his father’s sacred presence, radiant as a celestial beauty. The king, seeing Rama’s devotion at his feet, quickly embraced his head and kissed him again and again. In the same way, he embraced Shatrughna and Lakshmana, the destroyers of enemies, with deep affection, like a royal swan embracing blooming lotuses. Then the king said, “Sit on my lap, child.” But Rama, with humility, instead spread out a cloth on the ground, which was covered by attendants, and seated himself there. The king addressed him, “Son, you have attained discernment and are a vessel of virtues. With a mind matured like that of the wise, you do not allow yourself to be afflicted by sorrow. By following the teachings spoken by elders, sages, and teachers, one attains a blessed state—not by chasing after delusion. Calamities, though formidable, remain distant, my son, as long as the mind does not yield to the spread of delusion. “Prince, mighty-armed one, you are a hero. By you, these enemies—the sense-objects, so difficult to cut off and hard to overcome—have been conquered. Why, as if ignorant, do you sink into the ocean of delusion, full of dense waves and sluggishness, though you are so fit for knowledge? With eyes like moving clusters of blue lotuses, tell me—having abandoned the cause created by the mind—by what reason are you bewildered? On what are your sorrows based? How many are they? By whom, and for what reason, do they assail your mind like thieves plundering a house? “I consider you the highest refuge for those troubled by afflictions. For when a steadfast person is attained in adversity, those afflictions are conquered. Speak swiftly whatever you desire, O sinless one, and you shall obtain it. By that, all your afflictions will again be shattered.” Hearing these words of the sage—full of appropriate meaning and noble intent—the scion of Raghu’s line cast off his distress, like a peacock that calls out joyfully at the approach of rain, assured that his cherished aim would be fulfilled. Thus questioned by the chief of sages and reassured, Rama spoke gentle words, measured and filled with steadfast meaning: “Revered one, since you have now asked, I shall speak as best I can, though I am ignorant; for who would disregard the words of the virtuous? I was born here in my father’s house, gradually attained growth, and, having acquired knowledge, am now established. Then, devoted to good conduct, O leader of sages, I traveled over the earth girdled by the ocean, undertaking pilgrimages. “After this period, my own discernment swept away my attachment to worldly existence, just as a flood erodes the riverbank. My mind, filled with discernment, then reflected on this with an intellect that had lost all taste for enjoyment. What is this so-called happiness, truly, in this cycle of worldly existence? People are born only to die, and die only to be born again. All these moving and unmoving activities remain in their own state; the lords of calamities, sinful thoughts, and the sources of prosperity all abide in their respective domains. Like sticks of dishonor, mutually unconnected, thoughts come together only through the mind’s own imagination.