सुतीक्ष्णम् आपृच्छ्य रामस्य प्रस्थानम्

Honoured by Sutīkṣṇa, Rāma and Saumitri passed the night there in comfort and woke at dawn; the word ‘honoured’ recalls the hospitality of the previous sarga. Rising at the proper hour, Rāghava and Sītā bathed and sipped the cool water fragrant with lotuses. Then Vaidehī, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa duly worshipped the fire and the gods at daybreak in that forest, the refuge of ascetics, and looking upon the rising sun they were cleansed of all impurity. Purified in this way, they went to Sutīkṣṇa and spoke to him gently, since they had to ask leave to go. The poet lists the morning duties in order — waking, bathing, worship of the fire and the gods, beholding the sun — to show that even in exile Rāma did not neglect the daily rites of a householder, and ‘cleansed of impurity’ names the fruit of those rites. It is worth noting that all three worshipped together, for even in the forest their family dharma remained unbroken.

‘Reverend sir, we have lived here happily, honoured by you who are yourself worthy of honour. Now we take our leave and will set out, for these sages are urging us on. We are eager to see the whole circle of hermitages of the holy seers who live in the Daṇḍaka forest. Please give us leave to go with these bulls among sages, ever devoted to dharma, tamed by austerity, bright as smokeless fires. We wish to set out before the sun blazes with heat past bearing, as a man of low birth grows harsh when he gains wealth by no honest road.’ So saying, Rāghava, with Saumitri and Sītā, bowed at the sage's feet. The comparison is pointed: as a low-born man who comes suddenly into riches becomes unbearable, so the midday sun becomes unbearably hot. There is a pleasing paradox in ‘honoured by you who are worthy of honour’: the sage who deserved worship had himself honoured his guests. ‘The sages are urging us on’ shows the ascetics' eagerness, and ‘the whole circle of hermitages’ the extent of the journey ahead. The image of smokeless fires describes the clear, bright radiance of the sages. Rāma's request is humble — he asks for leave rather than announcing his going — and it ends not in a flood of words but in bowing at the sage's feet.

The great sage raised up the two who were touching his feet, embraced them closely, and said with affection: ‘Go on your way unharmed, Rāma, with Saumitri and with this Sītā, who follows you like your own shadow. See the lovely hermitages of these ascetics of the Daṇḍaka forest, whose souls have been perfected by austerity.’ With the single image of the shadow the sage captures Sītā's devotion: as a shadow follows a man silently and without a break, so did she. ‘Go unharmed’ is a blessing that the road may be free of obstacles. Raising and embracing them, the sage shows a father's love; he not only gives them leave but guides them on their way, and by describing those ascetics as perfected by austerity he tells in advance how great they are, so that Rāma's journey to them has meaning. The close embrace also hints at the pain of parting.

Then the sage described the beauty of the forest they would see on the way: ‘You will see woods rich in fruit and roots and full of blossom, with fine herds of deer and quiet flocks of birds; ponds and lakes with beds of open lotuses and clear water, dotted with kāraṇḍava ducks; mountain cascades lovely to look at, and delightful forests echoing with the cries of peacocks. Go, dear Saumitri, and you too, Rāma; and when you have seen them all, come back to my hermitage.’ Thus addressed, Kākutstha and Lakṣmaṇa said, ‘So be it,’ walked around the sage keeping him on their right, and made ready to leave. The description is not merely ornament: like a teacher with departing pupils, the sage fixes in their minds a happy picture of the forest. Its lakes and cascades, flowering trees and peaceful birds and beasts all nourish a mood of calm, showing the lovely face of the Daṇḍaka forest, whose other, terrible face the rākṣasas had made. The peacocks' cries and the gliding ducks add sound and movement to the picture, and ‘lovely to look at’ means that the mere sight of them gladdens the heart. With ‘come back to my hermitage’ the sage secures a promise that they will meet again.

Then wide-eyed Sītā handed the two brothers their fine quivers and bows and their two bright swords. Fastening on the handsome quivers and taking up their twanging bows, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa went out of the hermitage to begin their journey, and those two handsome Rāghavas, with the great seer's leave, bearing bow and sword, set out at once with Sītā. The picture of Sītā handing them their weapons is a moving one, for in the next sarga it is she who will argue for the dharma of non-violence. The poet calls the quivers especially fine to show the excellence of the weapons, and in the ‘twanging’ bows we almost hear the bowstrings ring. The sage's leave is mentioned once more to show that they departed in due form. So the brothers left the hermitage with Sītā for the circle of hermitages of the Daṇḍaka forest, and here the sarga ends.