On hearing these words of the gods, Lakshmana, Rama and Sita were more delighted than words can tell. Meanwhile, Bharata with all his retinue bathed in Mandakini’s sacred stream.

Then leaving all the people on the bank and asking permission of his mothers, his guru (the sage Vasishtha) and his minister (Sumantra), Bharata went on with the Nishada chief and his younger brother (Shatrughna) to the place where Sita and Raghunatha had their home.

As he remembered what his mother had done, he was ashamed and let his mind form a myriad ill-conjectures: ‘What if Rama, Lakshmana and Sita, on hearing my hearing my name, should leave this place and go elsewhere?

‘Taking me to be my mother’s accomplice, nothing that he might do would be too much. But considering me on his own side, he will forgive my sin and folly and receive me kindly as his well-wisher. (He will pardon my sins and offences and receive me with kindness, regarding me as being on his side; otherwise, I am unworthy of his forgiveness.)

Whether he shuns me as a black-hearted wretch or honours me as his own servant, my only refuge is at Rama’s sandals; he is really a noble master, the fault is all his servant’s.

The only beings worthy of fame in the world are the cuckoo and the fish, who are clever in keeping ever fresh their vows of fidelity and love.’ So reflecting, he went on his way, his whole body depleted by diffidence and affection.

His mother’s wickedness, as it were, dragged him back, while the strength of his devotion and fortitude, like some sturdy bull, drove him forward. Whenever he thought of Raghunatha’s loving nature, his feet moved swiftly along the road.