To protect the citizens from knowing his true path, Rama turned to his charioteer and said, “Turn the chariot northward, O charioteer, and proceed.” He continued, “After driving swiftly for a while, turn the chariot back again, so that the citizens may not know my path; do this with care.” The charioteer listened attentively and did exactly as Rama instructed. Having turned the chariot as directed and then returned, he reported back to Rama. Then, Rama and Lakshmana, scions of the Raghu dynasty, with Sita, mounted the ready chariot. The charioteer urged the horses onward, guiding them along the path that led toward the hermitage. Mighty Rama, son of Dasaratha, set out for the forest with the charioteer, having turned the chariot northward, and saw auspicious omens for the journey. Now begins the forty-seventh sarga in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda. When night had passed, the citizens who loved Rama awoke, but grief rendered them motionless, their hearts broken by his absence. Overwhelmed by tears of sorrow, they gazed again and again, desperate to catch a glimpse of Rama, but he was nowhere to be found. Their faces, marked by grief, reflected the pain of being deprived of that wise and compassionate prince. The learned among them spoke words of lamentation. “Fie upon that sleep which steals away the mind!” they cried. “Today we cannot see Rama, broad-chested and mighty-armed. How has Rama, great-armed and ever true to his word, abandoned his devoted people and gone away as an ascetic? He who always protected us as a father protects his sons—how has that foremost of the Raghu lineage left us and gone to the forest?” Some, overwhelmed, cried, “Let us end our lives here itself, or undertake the great departure; what purpose is there in living, deprived of Rama? There are dry woods in abundance, large and plentiful; let us all kindle a funeral pyre and enter it, or else—” Others wondered, “What shall we say to the mighty-armed, unresentful, sweet-spoken one? How can we bear to say, ‘Raghava was led away by us’?” They lamented for Ayodhya, “Surely that city will be forlorn, seeing us return without Raghava; it will become joyless, filled only with women, children, and the aged. Having departed with that heroic, noble-souled one, and now bereft of him, how shall we again behold that city?” Raising their arms, the people uttered many such words, lamenting in distress like cows bereft of their calves. As they tried to follow the path, they soon became overwhelmed by despair, having lost their way. Following the tracks of the chariot, the thoughtful ones turned back, distressed and confused, saying, “What is this? What shall we do, struck down by fate?” Thus, weary-hearted, they all returned by the same route to Ayodhya, their city now filled with sorrow. As they beheld their beloved city, their minds agitated by loss, tears fell from their grief-stricken eyes. The city, bereft of Rama, did not shine; it was like a river whose serpents had been snatched away by Garuda from its pool. Like the sky without the moon, or the ocean without water, the city seemed joyless, their minds bewildered. Entering their rich and splendid mansions, weighed down by sorrow, they could not recognize their own people or others; they gazed about, their joy utterly vanished. As they were thus distressed and deeply afflicted, their eyes filled with tears, overwhelmed by sorrow and the wish to die, the city-dwellers seemed as if their spirits had departed, their minds lost. Each returned to their own home, surrounded by children and spouses, and all shed tears, their faces veiled by weeping. No one rejoiced, no one was gladdened; merchants did not display their wares, and goods did not appear attractive, nor did householders cook meals. Even upon recovering lost wealth, no one celebrated great gains; nor did a mother rejoice when she received her firstborn son. In every house, women wept and reproached their husbands who had returned home, their words sharp as goads to elephants, tormented by grief. “What use are houses to us, or wives, or wealth? What use are sons or even pleasures, for those who do not see Raghava?” they lamented. “Only one true man remains in the world—Lakshmana, who, together with Sita, follows Kakutstha Rama, serving him in the forest. Blessed are those rivers, those lotus-filled lakes and ponds, in whose pure waters Kakutstha will bathe. The delightful forests, the great rivers, the vast marshlands, and the mountains with their peaks will all bring beauty to Kakutstha. Any forest or mountain that Rama approaches will not fail to honor him as a beloved guest who has arrived. With crowns of varied flowers and abundant offerings, even out of season, the finest blossoms and fruits will appear. Even out of season, the best flowers and fruits will be shown to Rama by the mountains, out of compassion, when he arrives. The mountains will pour forth pure waters, revealing many wondrous and colorful waterfalls. The trees on the mountain peaks will delight Raghava; wherever Rama is, there is no fear, nor can there be defeat.” Thus, the people of Ayodhya, overwhelmed by sorrow, returned to their homes, their lives and city shrouded in grief at the departure of their beloved Rama.