His faith stood like the pole-star, the prospect of Rama’s return on the expiry of the period of exile represented the full-moon night, while his constant remembrance of the Lord glistened like the Milky Way; his affection for Rama was like the moon, fixed and unsullied, ever shining clear amid a galaxy of stars.

All the great poets shrink from describing Bharata’s mode of living, his wisdom and his doings, his devotion and dispassion, his immaculate qualities and his splendour; they baffle the wits of Shesha (the thousand-headed lord of serpents), Ganesha (the god of wisdom) and Sarasvati (the goddess of speech).

Ever paying homage to his Lord’s sandals with a heart overflowing with devotion and constantly seeking their advice, he administered the many affairs of the state.

With his body trembling with emotion and Sita and Rama in his heart, his tongue continually repeated Rama’s name and his eyes brimmed over with tears. Lakshmana, Rama and Sita dwelt in the forest; Bharata living at home, mortified his flesh with austerities.

Looking at the matter from both sides, everyone said that Bharata was in every way praiseworthy. Holy men were abashed when they heard of his religious vows and observances, and the greatest of saints were put to shame when they saw his condition.

Supremely unsullied was Bharata’s conduct, sweet and fair and a fountain of joy and blessing. It drives away the terrible sins and afflictions of the Kali age; it is a veritable sun to scatter the night of great delusion;

- a lion to vanquish the elephant host of sin and a conqueror of all affliction. It delights the devotees, brings liberation from the burden of rebirth and is the ambrosial essence of the moon of devotion to Rama.