As time passed on Rama with his faithful consort and devoted brother lived in great peace at Panchavati. Soon autumn bowed out to make way for winter. On a beautiful morning, as they walked towards the river Godavari, Lakshmana said, "Rama! This part of the year is very dear to you. The earth is beautiful with woods robed in russet splendor. Winds whistle through them and the chill in the air drives men to seek the warmth of fire. It is the time for harvesting crops and thanking the gods for the bounty. Kings dream of battles and battlefields, to conquer new lands and extend the horizons of their dominion. Forests slumber, shrouded in the darkness of cold frost. Riverbanks hazed in the mist hide their feathered friends, whose presence is revealed only by their cries. The northern frontiers guarded by the Himalayan peaks stand bravely, battered by the cold icy winds and violent flurries of snow. The rays of the Sun no longer sting but shed soft light. Men hide in their homes dreading the cold that renders forests bare. Like coward warriors, the waterfowl stand on riverbanks, daring not to step into the freezing water. The lotuses cringe and shrivel, as glacial winds swoop down in icy fury, from their northern frontiers. Shedding their soft petals, they stand forlorn with only their stalks bearing silent witness to their once glorious existence. Fields and groves bask in the cool splendor of the season. See how thirsty elephants pull out their trunks from icy streams unable to drink the water. Rama! Think of Bharata that greatest exemplar of brotherly love. Renouncing kingdom, pomp, pleasure and plenty, he lives the life of a mendicant, practicing austerities and sleeping on the cold floor. Even at this moment he is perhaps on his way to the river Sarayu. How can he expose himself to the torment of its icy waters at this hour of night? Long armed, radiant and with eyes that compete with the beauty of lotus petals, that noble son of Dasaratha has given up every comfort to emulate your life here. Bharata disproves the theory that men conform to the nature of their mother; he has nothing of Kaikeyi in him. How can she, whose husband is the great king Dasaratha and whose son is the most virtuous Bharata be so wicked! " Rama, who always upheld dharma, reproved Lakshmana, "Kaikeyi should not be belittled Lakshmana, now tell me more of Bharata. Though in exile, my heart yearns for him whose words are so sweet and so divine. When will I be united with those magnanimous brothers of mine?"
Summary
As time passed on Rama with his faithful consort and devoted brother lived in great peace at Panchavati. Soon autumn bowed out to make way for winter. On a beautiful morning, as they walked towards the river Godavari, Lakshmana said, "Rama! This part of the year is very dear to you. The earth is beautiful with woods robed in russet splendor. Winds whistle through them and the chill in the air drives men to seek the warmth of fire. It is the time for harvesting crops and thanking the gods for the bounty. Kings dream of battles and battlefields, to conquer new lands and extend the horizons of their dominion. Forests slumber, shrouded in the darkness of cold frost. Riverbanks hazed in the mist hide their feathered friends, whose presence is revealed only by their cries. The northern frontiers guarded by the Himalayan peaks stand bravely, battered by the cold icy winds and violent flurries of snow. The rays of the Sun no longer sting but shed soft light. Men hide in their homes dreading the cold that renders forests bare. Like coward warriors, the waterfowl stand on riverbanks, daring not to step into the freezing water. The lotuses cringe and shrivel, as glacial winds swoop down in icy fury, from their northern frontiers. Shedding their soft petals, they stand forlorn with only their stalks bearing silent witness to their once glorious existence. Fields and groves bask in the cool splendor of the season. See how thirsty elephants pull out their trunks from icy streams unable to drink the water. Rama! Think of Bharata that greatest exemplar of brotherly love. Renouncing kingdom, pomp, pleasure and plenty, he lives the life of a mendicant, practicing austerities and sleeping on the cold floor. Even at this moment he is perhaps on his way to the river Sarayu. How can he expose himself to the torment of its icy waters at this hour of night? Long armed, radiant and with eyes that compete with the beauty of lotus petals, that noble son of Dasaratha has given up every comfort to emulate your life here. Bharata disproves the theory that men conform to the nature of their mother; he has nothing of Kaikeyi in him. How can she, whose husband is the great king Dasaratha and whose son is the most virtuous Bharata be so wicked! " Rama, who always upheld dharma, reproved Lakshmana, "Kaikeyi should not be belittled Lakshmana, now tell me more of Bharata. Though in exile, my heart yearns for him whose words are so sweet and so divine. When will I be united with those magnanimous brothers of mine?"