The dark hopes of the rival kings vanished like the night and their boasts died away like the serried stars. The arrogant princes shrivelled up like lilies and the guileful kings hid themselves like owis.

The sages and the gods, like the chakavas, were rid of their sorrows and rained down flowers in token of reverence. Affectionately reverencing the guru’s feet, Rama begged leave of the holy fathers.

Then the Lord of all creation stepped forth in his natural grace with the tread of a noble elephant, handsome and proud. As Rama moved, all the men and women of the city rejoiced and felt a thrill of rapturous excitement.

Invoking the Fathers and the gods and recalling their own good deeds, they prayed; ‘If our religious merits are of any value, O Lord Ganesha, may Rama snap the bow of Shiva like a lotus stalk!’

Affectionately looking at Rama and bidding her companions draw near, Sita’s mother thus spoke sobbing with loving anxiety:

‘All those who are called our friends, dear ones, are mere speactators of a show; no one urges the preceptor (Vishvamitra) and tells him that Rama is but a child and that such insistence on his part (to lift and break the bow) is not desirable.

Ravana and Banasura could not even touch the bow, and all other kings were worsted in spite of all their boasts; and this same bow he is giving into the hands of the young prince! Can cygnets ever lift Mount Mandara?