Thus spoke Rama, son of Dasaratha, his heart tumultuous and his eyes scanning the empty, desolate ashram. He called out loudly, his voice filled with despair, shaking Lakshmana by the shoulder, “Where is Sita? Where has she gone from here? Who has taken her away? O Soumitri, who has harmed Sita? Is she alive, or has some demon devoured her? Sita, are you hiding behind the bushes? End this jest and emerge to alleviate my anguish. O gentle lady, these young deer, bereft of your presence, weep as they search for you among the grass. Why do you abandon these innocent creatures?”
Rama’s voice trembled as he continued, “Enough of this game, Sita. Do not prolong it. I am consumed by sorrow. Without you, I cannot endure. I am in such pain that I may soon join my father, Dasaratha, in the heavens. And you, Lakshmana, how could you leave her unguarded? You vowed to protect her, yet you came to me, forsaking your duty. You have broken your promise, and our father in the heavens will chastise you for it. O Sita, my sorrow overwhelms me, and I am powerless, failing in my quest. Do not leave me to be scorned like a criminal. My life is entwined with yours and cannot be separated.”
Lost in grief and yearning to see Sita, Rama wandered in his mind, lamenting quietly. His despair was like that of a mighty elephant, half-submerged in thick mud, slowly sinking deeper. Lakshmana, hoping to rekindle hope and lift Rama from his despair, spoke, “O valiant prince, let us search the caves spread across this vast forest. Sita loves to stroll in the woods, to sit by water ponds and lakes. She might be frolicking by a lotus-covered lake, or she may have been lured by the fish to a river to swim. Perhaps she hides in the thick bushes, watching how we handle this crisis. O Rama, treasure of the earth, let us begin our search systematically. If you agree, we can commence at once. Gather your strength and compose yourself.”
The sons of Dasaratha began their search, scouring every corner of the forest, from the mountains to the rivers, ponds, and lakes. After a thorough search, Rama sighed, “Lakshmana, I cannot find Sita’s pious face.” They continued through Dandakaranya, with Lakshmana encouraging Rama, “As Vishnu subdued Bali to reclaim the earth, so will you return with Janaka’s daughter.” Inspired by these words, Rama, though still in desperation, replied, “Lakshmana, we have searched everywhere—flower-laden lakes, resounding caves, rushing streams, waterfalls—but Sita remains elusive.”
Rama, overcome with sorrow, weakened, and slowly losing consciousness, sat down, gasping and sweating, sighing deeply. “O Sita, I have failed to protect you. What can I do now?” Lakshmana, with hands folded in prayer, implored Rama to regain his senses and composure. “Your virtues, strength, and judgment must not falter.” Yet Rama, still in a daze, cried out, “Sita, you love flowers and must be hiding beneath them, savoring their fragrance. Why do you mock me in this grove? Please, end this charade. O dear angel, I know your playful nature, but now is not the time. This hermitage is no place for such games. Return, O wide-eyed daughter of Janaka, at once.”
Lakshmana feared that demons might have taken Sita or that something terrible had befallen her. Rama continued in sorrow, “Why would Sita remain silent when I cry out? Look at these fawns, shedding tears—they tell me she has been taken. O delicate and slender one, where have you gone? This calamity must have pleased Kaikeyi. How can I return to Ayodhya without you? What will the people think? They will see me as weak, a coward who could not protect his wife. When my ascetic life ends and I return, what will I tell the king of Mithila when he asks of his daughter? No, I cannot face Ayodhya alone. Even heaven would be unbearable without Sita.”
Turning to Lakshmana, Rama despaired, “Leave me in this forest and return to Ayodhya. I cannot live without Sita. Take Bharata with you and tell him I have entrusted the kingdom to him. Give my respects to Kaikeyi, Sumitra, and Kausalya. Take care of my mother, Kausalya, with utmost diligence. Tell her how Sita and I perished in the forest.”
Lakshmana, equally drained and struck by fear at Rama’s condition, fell into a state of inaction. Yet, fate continued to unfold, guiding them through a dance of human emotion and divine resilience, each step leading toward a higher cosmic order.