Ayodhya endured a somber night, heavy with wails, sobs, and restless moments fraught with unease and uncertainty. As dawn broke, the sages and ministers gathered solemnly in the royal court to address the grave matters at hand. Among them were the venerable sages Markandeya, Moudgalya, Vamadeva, Kasyapa, Katyayana, and the renowned scholar Jabali, who all deliberated with the wise Vasishtha. The court mourned deeply, for their king had departed for the heavenly abode, his heart broken by the separation from his sons. Though but a single night had passed, its weight felt like a year of anguish, each moment burdened with grief and unrest within the palace.
The throne of Ayodhya stood vacant. Rama and Lakshmana, radiant and valorous, roamed the forests. Bharata and Shatrughna resided in their grandfather’s house. Tradition demanded that a ruler from the Ikshvaku lineage ascend the throne, for without a king, the nation would spiral into chaos. Unseen threats would descend, rains would fail, agriculture would wither, and unrest would pervade. Without the guiding hand of a sovereign, families would dissolve into discord, virtues would vanish, and society would devolve into anarchy.
Corruption, deceit, and selfishness would flourish in such a vacuum of authority. Truth, the cornerstone of dharma, would falter, and rituals, charity, and commerce would lose their sanctity. The strong would exploit the weak and might would become the only law. Temples, choultries, and public utilities would be left defenseless; artisans and craftsmen would be reduced to begging. Justice would disappear, and even the environment, flora, and fauna would suffer.
The absence of a king would strip the kingdom of its dignity. Borders would be threatened, and conspiracies would brew among neighboring rulers. A weak, fragmented populace would lose its identity and trust. Suspicion and fear would poison relationships, and the very fabric of Ayodhya would unravel. A king was not merely a ruler; he was the sustainer of dharma, the protector of wealth, the guardian of virtue, and the beacon of growth. Under King Dasharatha’s reign, Ayodhya had flourished in glory. Now, only the wisdom of Vasishtha could salvage this precarious moment.
The learned Vasishtha addressed the council, urging swift action. “Bharata and Shatrughna, though safe in their maternal uncle’s house, must return immediately. The throne belongs to Bharata, as decreed by King Dasharatha. This is beyond dispute.”
Messengers were summoned and given precise instructions. “Siddhartha, Jayantha, Vijaya, Ashoka—heed my words. Travel to Rajagriha with all haste. Conceal the sorrow of Ayodhya and deliver this message: ‘By the command of Vasishtha, you are summoned to the royal court immediately, for urgent matters demand your presence.’ Take gifts of silks and ornaments for the Kekaya king, and reveal nothing of Ayodhya’s plight.”
The messengers prepared diligently and embarked on their solemn journey. They crossed the Ganga near Hastinapura, traveled westward through the Kuru and Jangala territories, and bypassed the Panchala region, lush with glistening waters and abundant ponds. Their route took them past sacred rivers like the Sharadanda and the Kulinga and through a village of Vedic scholars, where they paid their respects and pressed on.
They traversed the dense forests near the Vipasa River, adorned with silk trees and vibrant flora until they reached the outskirts of Girivrajapura as night fell. Their horses, though weary, remained steadfast, reflecting the devotion of their riders to the weighty mission entrusted to them. The messengers followed Vasishtha’s commands with unwavering diligence, their journey poised to reshape the destiny of Ayodhya.
Thus unfolded a moment in history, charged with the grandeur of fate’s intricate design, as Ayodhya awaited its rightful sovereign to restore its virtues and glory.
