Rama entered the forest of Dandaka, impenetrable and forbidding to men of lesser valor. There he beheld the peaceful homes of hermits, a cluster of huts whose grounds were strewn with reed, bark and kusa grass. Hallowed by the presence of men of great penance, the hermitage bore a brilliance which like the noon day sun, was hard to behold. Carefully tended, its shade was sought by wood nymphs, birds and beasts, where deer nibbled at blades of grass and apsaras descended to dance. The charming retreat blazed with the fires of the sacrificial altars. Great sages practicing every form of austerity added to its luster and like the abode of Brahma, the hermitage under the green canopies of the Dandaka resounded with the chant of the Vedas. Rama unstrung his bow and went forth. The holy men saw Rama, whose radiance rivaled that of the rising moon. They saw Sita whose ethereal beauty was incomparable and then they saw Lakshmana with his peerless grace of a warrior. The noble hermits looked at them long and in awe. Held captive by the magnetic charm of the wanderers they would not to even blink, lest they miss the divine beauty. "O Rama! You are the defender of your people. He who wields the scepter is worthy of all honor and respect. We live within your domain and crave protection from you who are the merciful Lord of the Universe. Since anger renders void all merit of penance, we have mastered our senses and have renounced all desire for revenge. We now bow to none but to you, the omnipotent God. You are our refuge, whether you live in a forest or palace".