- even that auspicious moment for which all men and women as impatiently yearn as the thirsty cuckoo and his mate long in autumn for the rainfall of Swati (Arcturus)?

To at once, dear son, I beseech you, and bathe and take some sweet food of your choice, bless you, my son, go to your father after that, for I, your mother, protest there has been too much delay.

On hearing his mother’s most affectionate words, which were like blossoms of the celestial tree of affection, laden with the honey of joy and productive of prosperity, the bee of Rama’s soul could not be lured by their charm.

A champion of righteousness as he was, he clearly observed the path of duty and spoke to this mother in exceedingly honeyed tones, 'My father has bestowed on me the sovereignty of the woods, where I shall have many great deeds to do.

Give me your orders, mother, with a cheerful heart, that joyful omens may attend my journey to the forest. Do not give way to causeless alarm due to affection, dear mother; all will be well by your favour.

After staying for fourteen years in the forest and making good my father’s commands, I will come back and behold your feet again; so be not sad at heart.’

Raghubara’s gentle and sweet words pierced his mother’s heart like arrows and rankled there. Alarmed to hear his chilling speech, she withered and drooped like the javasa at a shower in the rains. (javasa plants, which flourish only on dry soil, find their leaves falling in the rains.)