With his heart bursting with sobs of agony every moment, he looked like Sampati who had fallen from the sky with signed wings. ‘Rama, O Rama! Rama, my beloved son!’ the king fondly cried, and again, ‘O Rama, Lakshmana, Sita!’

The Minister, on seeing the king, exclaimed, ‘Long live the king!’ and fell prostrate before him and made obeisance. As soon as he heard him, the king arose in bewilderment and said, ‘Tell me, Sumantra, where is Rama?’

The king clasped Sumantra to his bosom like a drowning man who has caught hold of some support. He seated him affectionately by his side, and with his eyes full of tears asked:

‘Tell me, dear friend, of Rama’s welfare. Where are Rama, Lakshmana and Janaki? Have you brought them back or have they left for the woods?’ At these words tears rushed to the minister’s eyes.

Overwhelmed with grief, the king asked again, ‘Give me news of Sita, Rama and Lakshmana.’ As he called to mind Rama’s beauty and virtue and amiable disposition, the king sorrowed within himself:

‘I promised him the kingdom and exiled him to the woods, but the news neither delighted his soul nor grieved it; such is the son whom I have lost, and yet my clinging breath departs not. Who then is so guilty a monster as I?

Take me, my friend, to the place where Rama, Sita and Lakshmana are; else – I tell you the very truth – at once shall my soul take flight!