They found a large tree and Rāma performed the evening worship. ‘This is our first night away from human habitation and without Sumantra. You must not give in to despair,’ said Rāma to Lakṣmaṇa. ‘You must stay awake and watch all night because Sītā’s safety depends on us. Let us make some sort of bed with all the materials we have collected. We shall get through this night somehow!’
Rāma, who deserved the best of beds, lay down on the bare earth and continued talking sadly. ‘Lakṣmaṇa, I am sure that the king will have trouble sleeping tonight! But Kaikeyī’s wish has been fulfilled so she should be happy. But, when she sees Bharata, she may want to kill the king for the sake of the kingdom. And what will that poor helpless old man do, now that he has succumbed to lust and placed himself in Kaikeyī’s power? Especially since I am not with him!
‘When I think of the disaster that has befallen me as a result of the king’s infatuation I feel the pursuit of pleasure must be even more compelling than the pursuit of wealth or dharma. Even an ignorant man would not renounce his son for the sake of a beautiful woman. But our father has abandoned me, his most obedient son!
‘Ah! Bharata is so fortunate! He is happy with his wife by his side, enjoying the pleasures of ruling over Kosalā. He alone enjoys the pleasures, since my father is too old and I am stuck in the forest! He who abandons wealth and dharma and chases after pleasure shall soon destroy himself, like Daśaratha did! Kaikeyī must have come to our family with the sole intention of destroying Daśaratha, banishing me and securing the kingdom for Bharata!
‘Suppose Kaikeyī, intoxicated by her good fortune, starts to torment Kausalyā and Sumitrā because of me? Lakṣmaṇa, I do not want Sumitrā to suffer on my account. You must return to Ayodhyā as soon as it is morning. You can protect Kausalyā as well. She is so vulnerable. I shall go into the Daṇḍaka forest alone with Sītā!
‘Kaikeyī is base and mean and may treat Kausalyā badly. Place my mother under Bharata’s care, for he is a righteous man! My mother must have caused the separation of mothers and sons in her past life for her to be in this situation now! She looked after me for so many years and bore a number of burdens for my sake. Now I have been snatched away from her just as it was time for her to bear the fruits of her efforts! Damn me! May no woman ever have a son like me, one that causes her so much sorrow!
‘I could easily conquer Ayodhyā and the entire earth in anger with just my arrows. But one should never use one’s strength without reason. If I do not crown myself today, Lakṣmaṇa, it is only because I fear the consequences of violating dharma in my next life!’
Rāma wept in his sorrow and then spent the rest of the night in silence in that lonely forest. When his tears had spent themselves as a forest fire dies down or the ocean calms itself after a storm, Lakṣmaṇa consoled his brother. ‘Rāma, best of all warriors, I know the city of Ayodhyā has lost all its lustre today, like the night without a moon! But there is no use in your being miserable. You will only make Sītā and me feel worse. Neither of us can live without you for a single hour, like fish cannot live without water. I have no desire to see our father or my mother Sumitrā or Śatrughna or even heaven if I am not with you!’
Fortified by Lakṣmaṇa’s wise and sensitive words, Rāma resolved to stay in the forest with Lakṣmaṇa for the stipulated period.
After they had spent the night under the huge tree, Rāma, Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa waited for daylight and then proceeded towards Prayāga, the confluence of the Gangā and the Yamunā. They travelled through regions that were more beautiful than anything they had ever seen before. They walked at an easy pace, looking at the trees and plants around them.
Around noon, Rāma said, ‘Look, Lakṣmaṇa, the smoke around Prayāga rises up like the banner of the fire god! We must be close to the great sage’s hermitage. We must have reached the confluence of the rivers. I can hear their waters crashing against each other!’ By sunset, they had reached the sage Bharadvāja’s settlement.
Though they were eager to see the sage, the three of them stopped at some distance from the hermitage. ‘We are Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, the sons of Daśaratha,’ announced Rāma. ‘And this is my virtuous wife Sītā, the daughter of Janaka. She has followed me into the deserted forest where sages practice austerities. When my father banished me, my beloved younger brother, who is a man of firm resolve, decided to come with me. We shall enter the mighty forest as my father decreed and we shall live on roots and fruits as prescribed by the dharma of the ascetics!’
Surrounded by birds and animals and other sages, Bharadvāja welcomed Rāma as an honoured guest. ‘It has been a long time, Rāma, since I saw you here,’ he said. ‘I have heard about your unjust banishment. There is a quiet and deserted spot between the two rivers. It is a pleasant place, conducive to gaining spiritual merit. You can live there simply and easily.’
‘I am afraid that if we live there, the citizens of Ayodhyā will keep coming to see Sītā and me,’ replied Rāma. ‘Can you tell us of a lonely, uninhabited place where we could establish a small settlement and live in peace?’ Bharadvāja saw that Rāma’s words were wise and he told him about a place that would meet his requirements.
‘Child, there is a mountain about ten yojanās from here. It is very beautiful and has a pleasant view from all sides. Ṛṛṣis often visit it since it is a holy place. The mountain is called Citrakūṭa and like Mount Gandhamādana it teems with bears and monkeys. A man who sees Citrakūṭa is filled with goodness and is disinclined to act inappropriately. A great many sages have practised austerities there for hundreds of years and have ascended to heaven with ease, their heads as bare as skulls. It is extremely isolated. You could live there in peace and comfort. Or you can stay here with us and live the life of an ascetic.’
Night fell as the sage and Rāma talked of many things. Rāma Lakṣmaṇa and Sītā spent the night at Bharadvāja’s hermitage and at dawn, Rāma went to the sage who shone with his own splendour. ‘We have passed a pleasant night with you. Now we ask for permission to leave for the place where we must live.’ ‘Go to Citrakūṭa which abounds in roots and fruits and honey,’ said the sage. ‘Go to that blessed place which is filled with the songs of birds and made beautiful by herds of elephants and deer that wander there. Go, Rāma, and make your home there.’
Bharadvāja blessed the departing travellers as he would his own children. They walked in the direction of the mountain, crossing the Yamunā as they went. ‘Take Sītā with you and walk in front,’ said Rāma to Lakṣmaṇa. ‘Give her fruits and flowers that might please her.’ Walking between the brothers, Sītā appeared like a female elephant between two tuskers. The gentle woman asked Rāma about every single flower and creeper that she had never seen before. Fired by her enthusiasm, Lakṣmaṇa brought Sītā all kinds of plants and flowering stems. Sītā was filled with delight when she saw the dark sands of the Yamunā frequented by swans and cranes and water birds.
After they had gone some distance, the brothers killed a few animals and ate them on the banks of the Yamunā. They amused themselves with the sights and sounds of the forest until they found a suitable resting place for the night.
The next day, they reached Citrakūṭa and found that it was indeed a pleasant region, inhabited by different kinds of birds and animals. ‘We shall be happy here,’ said Rāma as he asked Lakṣmaṇa to fetch leaves and logs to make a small thatched hut. Lakṣmaṇa killed a black antelope as an offering to the spirits of the area. They roasted it over a blazing fire. When it was fully cooked and all its blood had been absorbed, Lakṣmaṇa said, ‘Rāma, this animal is suitable as an offering. It has been roasted to a dark brown colour and all its limbs are intact so it looks as if it is alive. You can worship the gods with it.’
Rāma bathed, recited mantras to ward off evil and offered the antelope as a sacrifice to the gods. Then all three of them entered the hut which had different areas within it, designated for various activities.
Now that they had settled on the mountain with their minds calm and serene, Rāma’s heart was filled with joy and he no longer felt any sadness at leaving the city.