When he saw the condition of his beloved consort and his brother (Lakshmana), the self-possessed and compassionate Rama, who is soothing to his devotee’s hearts as sandalwood, would begin to narrate some sacred legend, hearing which Lakshmana and Sita would feel relieved.

So Rama, together with Lakshmana and Sita, was as resplendent in his hut of leaves as Indra in Amaravati with his spouse, Sachi, and their son, Jayanta

The Lord was as watchful over Sita and Lakshmana as the eyelids over the pupil of the eye, while Lakshmana waited upon Sita and Rama (or Lakshmana and Sita both upon Rama) as carefully as a purblind fool (who identifies himself with his body) tends his own body.

In this manner the Lord, who was as friendly to birds and fawns as to gods and ascetics, lived happily in the forest. Thus have I told the glorious story of Rama’s journey to the woods; now hear how Sumantra came to Ayodhya.

When the Nishada chief returned after escorting the Lord, he saw the minister (Sumantra) and his chariot. No words can tell the distress with which he beheld the minister so distraught.

(When he found that the Nishada had returned all alone) Sumantra cried out, ‘Rama! Rama! Sita! Lakshmana!’ and fell to the ground utterly helpless, while the horses kept on looking towards the south and whinnying as piteously as birds shorn of their wings

They would neither eat grass nor drink water, but only shed tear-floods. At the sight of Rama’s horses all the Nishadas were profoundly grieved.