Rama, still and composed as the silent sky before dawn, stood as the lover of eternity, intent upon the divine speech of Brahma, the eternal Creator. The purpose of his birth, the weight of his life, and the arc of its fulfilment lay unveiled before him like a sacred flame revealing the path of dharma.
Even as Brahma’s words fell like drops of sacred truth into Rama’s being, a divine command arose—Agni, the Fire-God, radiant and solemn, bore witness. The elements trembled, directions bowed, gods listened in hush, sages beheld in awe, simian warriors stood still, demons fell silent, and from the very flame, as from the altar of cosmos, Agni, the noble witness tothe universe, emerged, resplendent in radiance, cradling in his arms like a newborn the flawless daughter of Janaka.
Sita, golden-hued, draped in robes red as the dawn, rivalled the splendour of Aditya himself. Her garlands, her ornaments, her hair—all were untouched by trial, as if the fire had not consumed, but crowned her. She shone as if fire had only revealed her purity. To Rama she was given again, not by a mortal hand, but by the divine flame itself, as once her father had given her in the pure rites of marriage.
Then Agni, the Eye of the Universe, spoke to Rama: O Scion of Raghu, accept Sita, for she is untouched, unsullied, and sinless. She is your echo—her soul breathes with yours; her word follows your thought; her deed shadows your will. Though stolen by Ravana while you were drawn from your hermitage, she remained captive only in body. In thought, in spirit, in every pulse of breath, she was with you. Her virtue was a fortress even Ravana dared not breach. Temptation found no root, threats no soil. She is purity itself. Accept her, Rama, with the dignity of your soul. I command you—never let her heart be wounded by doubt again.
Rama, master of speech and measure, eyes wet yet gaze firm, gathered his inner strength and answered the Fire-God. O Witness of the Worlds, the noble daughter of Janaka was indeed held in the foul kingdom of lustful demons. I, knowing her stainless, still brought her to fire—not for judgment, but for the world. For the world, ever quick to whisper, ever slow to understand, may think the son of Dasaratha is led by desire. Yet her purity is beyond reproach, her devotion beyond measure. Not even a shadow of another has touched her thought. As the ocean keeps its shore, so her mind keeps me. Not all of Ravana’s splendour, might, or boons could pierce the fortress of her virtue. Had her purity wavered but a hair’s breadth, it would have reduced him to ash. Her eyes hold the light of my love. Her breath is my breath. Yet, as a prince bound by dharma, I endured so that her chastity might shine before all three worlds.
Know, O gods and sages, she is my light as the sun is to its ray, the moon to its coolness, the soul to its peace, the sage to his penance. We are not two. We are the one soul in twin form. Your counsel I hold sacred, for it echoes dharma itself.
And so was Sita welcomed back—not as one returned, but as one always present—in trust, in honour, in the embrace of love where two become one again. The heavens rejoiced. And from on high, Maheswara, the great Lord of Gods, spoke forth in joy: O Rama, lotus-eyed, by the might of dharma, you have accomplished a task divine. You have slain Ravana and lifted the burden of fear from the worlds.
Strong son of Kausalya, console thy mothers—Kausalya and Kaikeyi. Console thy brother Bharata, who waits in piety. Rule Ayodhya in righteousness. Bear the banner of Ikshvaku. Perform the Aswamedha. Honour the lineage, hold the dharma, and prepare thyself for heaven in time. Thy father, Dasaratha, dwells in the world of Indra, raised there by thy noble deeds.
Hearing thus, Rama and Lakshmana bowed and beheld their father Dasaratha, clothed in celestial sheen, seated upon a radiant throne. The king’s eyes beamed with tears of joy. Rama, life of my life, he cried, even paradise was barren without you. I choose thy nearness above all celestial hosts. The sound of Kaikeyi’s harsh words still echoes in my ears—but now, embracing you both, my sorrow melts like snow before the sun.
O my son, thou hast freed me from worldly bindings, even as the sage Ashtavakra freed the Brahmin Kahola. Thou hast fulfilled the divine will to rid the world of darkness. Rule Ayodhya in joy. Unite with thy noble brother Bharata, whose heart mirrors thine. Complete thy vows, live long in glory.
To these words, Rama replied, palms folded in reverence: O father, master of dharma, grant thy blessing upon Kaikeyi and Bharata. Let not thy old pain fall upon them as a curse. Let all hearts be healed. Dasaratha, moved by this noble prayer, embraced Lakshmana and said: You, who served Rama and Vaidehi with selfless love, have earned eternal merit. By dharma and devotion, you shall rise beyond even earth’s acclaim. Lakshmana, serve Rama ever—for his path is the welfare of worlds.
Then all gods and sages, with Indra at their head, hailed Rama. Know this, they said—Rama is the eternal, the unmanifest, the soul of all gods. The mystery of Brahma is Rama incarnate. You serve none less than the Lord of All.
Turning to Sita, Dasaratha spoke with love and gravity: O daughter, do not bear anger at Rama’s trial. Thy virtue shines like the moon among stars, lighting the path for all women. You need no instruction in devotion, but as an elder, I say—hold fast to your dharma. He is your soul’s twin, your power of virtue. In him, your name shall shine forever.
Thus, having blessed his sons and his noble daughter-in-law, Dasaratha, king among kings, full of joy and freed from every bond, rose into the heavenly realm, content and radiant, his task fulfilled.
