The noble son of King Dasaratha, Rama, dwelt in a state of serene joy, for he had accomplished what no mortal dared dream—to vanquish the mighty Ravana, sovereign of the rakshasas, and free the worlds from the clutch of dread and darkness. His beloved consort, Sita, daughter of Janaka, returned unharmed, her chastity untainted, her spirit resolute. Rama beheld his father’s form once more and bowed for his blessings, then offered reverence to Agni, Brahma, and Shiva, and from them too received their gracious benedictions.
The valorous monkey-warriors hailed him, for he had kept his word; Sugreeva was placed on the throne by slaying Vali, and Vibhishana was crowned by the fall of his tyrant brother. Yet amidst all this triumph, Rama’s heart bore a quiet sorrow—an unknown weight, a silence in his soul. In stillness, he sat, and a thought, gentle yet piercing, stirred within him: I have won this war not alone, but upon the strength of the vanaras and bears. Many perished, brave and unyielding. Why must their lives be lost for the cause of Rama? Ought I not to restore what has been taken from them? Let the clans who grieve be gladdened. Let those fallen rise. Thus, with this silent resolve, his heart lightened.
And lo, when Dasaratha ascended to his eternal realm, the conqueror of Vritra, the lord of the heavens, Devendra, descended and stood before Rama, luminous as the midday sun. Rama greeted him with folded palms, and Indra, gladdened by Rama’s humility, spoke: O Rama, my vision must not return empty. Thou, O noblest of kings, hast pleased me. Ask, and thy desire shall be fulfilled. Rama, in that moment of grace, lifted his voice and said: O king of gods, if thou art indeed inclined to grant a boon, then let this be my wish—that the valiant vanaras and bears, who laid down their lives in my cause, be returned to life.
Let them awaken, whole and hearty. Let them be reunited with their kin. Let their lands be rich in fruit and bloom, their streams ever flowing, and their bodies free from ailment and hunger. For they fought not for their own glory, but for me. Indra, beaming with approval, declared: O Rama, thy boon is noble, and I speak only what I fulfil. The fallen shall rise again, restored to strength, their wounds undone, their limbs made whole.
And as the god of storms blessed them, the warriors arose as though from deep slumber, bewildered yet joyous, looking upon each other with wonder. The heavens rejoiced, the gods sang of Rama’s compassion, and they said: O Rama, return now to Ayodhya. Let the vanaras return to their forest homes. Console thy queen Sita, who has endured great trials. Thy brothers Bharata and Shatrughna yearn for thee. Comfort thy mothers, O slayer of foes. So, saying, Indra bestowed blessings upon Lakshmana and departed to his celestial abode. Rama, with folded hands, bade farewell to the gods and turned to his simian allies. He spoke: Rest now, O my friends, for you have toiled like stars around the full moon. And Rama slept in peace, and rose at dawn with his heart unburdened.
To him came Vibhishana, offering salutations and joy. He summoned those who would bathe and adorn Rama with scent and garlands. Rama said: Invite Sugreeva and the chieftains. But know this—I shall not wear silk or fragrance until Bharata, my virtuous brother who lives as a hermit for my sake, is adorned the same. He lives in austerity, rejecting luxury until my return. Let us not outpace him in indulgence. Let a swift path to Ayodhya be found. The roads are rough, the way long. Vibhishana, bowing, declared: O Rama, I shall carry you to Ayodhya in a single day. Behold—the celestial Pushpaka Vimana, once Kubera’s, seized by Ravana, preserved now for thee. Like a cloud it waits, its form majestic. Come, board this chariot of heaven, and let thy journey begin.
But Vibhishana paused and bowed again. O Rama, he pleaded, in honour and deep affection, I beg thee, stay in Lanka a while. Let us venerate thee with joy. Accept not the word of a command, but of a friend and servant. You are ringed by those who cherish you. I entreat you, make us glad with your presence. Rama, in the presence of all, responded: O noble rakshasa, your friendship, your counsel, your reverence—all are honour enough. But my heart aches for Bharata, who came to Chitrakuta to summon me, whom I denied. For Kaikeyi, Sumitra, and Kausalya, for my friend Guha, for the people of Ayodhya—I long to behold them. Permit me, O Vibhishana, and be not hurt. This too is your honour upon me.
Then Vibhishana, with joy undiminished, summoned the Pushpaka. A vision it was: its body gleamed silver, with steps of glittering gems. Its seats shone beneath golden parasols. Its windows were veiled in curtains of pearls and coral, hung with bells that sang in the breeze. Its floor was of crystal, its pillars of gold, its frame encrusted with stones of worth beyond telling. At Rama’s word, Vibhishana turned to the simians: Honour them, O king, for they have fought for thee. Your kingdom was won by their courage.
Repay their service with treasures and ornaments. Let them know your gratitude. A king is forsaken if he lacks kindness. Vibhishana, true to virtue, offered gifts of splendour to the vanaras, who received them with gladness. Rama, watching this, mounted the Pushpaka, taking Sita by the hand, who sat with modest grace beside Lakshmana. In prayer and mindfulness, Rama addressed his hosts: O gallant vanaras, your task is fulfilled. Return now to your homes. Sugreeva, noble friend, go to Kishkindha with your kin. Vibhishana, rule Lanka with justice. Even the gods shall not defy you now. As for me, I go to Ayodhya, my father’s realm. Grant me leave
But Vibhishana and the vanara lords folded their hands and cried: Take us with you, O Rama. Let us walk the gardens of Ayodhya. Let us behold Queen Kausalya and salute her. Rama, pleased, replied: I rejoice to have you with me. Sugreeva, come aboard with thy retinue. Then the king of Lanka and the monkey chieftains boarded the radiant Pushpaka. With Rama among his champions, shining like Kubera himself, the divine chariot soared skyward. Thus began the blessed journey to Ayodhya—the long-awaited return, the fulfilment of longing, the triumphant homecoming of the prince of dharma, borne upon the winds of heaven.
