King Dasharatha's anguish, Rama's noble farewell, Lakshmana's fury, and Sita's silent sorrow unfold in this poignant retelling of the Ramayana's exile scene. 

The Aftermath of Rama's Departure (Shlokas 2.58.1 - 2.58.10)

King Dasharatha, having regained consciousness after his initial shock, summoned the charioteer Sumantra. The king, consumed by grief and longing for Rama, sought news of his exiled son. Sumantra approached the monarch with reverence, his palms joined in respect.

The sight that greeted the charioteer was heart-wrenching. The once-mighty King Dasharatha now appeared like a shadow of his former self. He sat there, aged and deeply afflicted, reminiscent of a newly captured elephant - restless and forlorn. Deep sighs escaped the king's lips as he brooded over the fate of his beloved son.

Observing Sumantra's dust-covered form and tear-stained face, the king, his voice thick with emotion, began his inquiry:

"Where will my righteous Rama rest now? Will he, accustomed to the softest beds, sleep beneath the canopy of trees? What will my son, who has known only the finest delicacies, eat in the harsh forest?"

The king's questions grew more anguished as he continued, "How can Rama, unaccustomed to hardship, endure the discomforts of the wilderness? My son, always surrounded by chariots, foot soldiers, and mighty elephants - how will he manage in the desolate forest?"

Dasharatha's mind raced with terrifying images of the dangers that lurked in the wild. "The forest teems with ferocious beasts and venomous serpents. How will my two young sons and the delicate Sita survive in such a perilous environment?"

The king's voice broke as he recalled the pampered life his children had led. "How could my son and his gentle wife, accustomed to traveling in royal chariots, walk on the rough forest paths with their tender feet?"

Turning to Sumantra, Dasharatha said, "You are truly blessed, O charioteer, for you have witnessed what I could not - my sons entering the forest, as majestic as the Ashvini twins ascending Mount Mandara."

With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, the king implored, "Tell me, Sumantra, what were Rama's last words? What did Lakshmana say? And Sita - what message did she leave? Speak of how they eat, where they rest. Your words alone can sustain me now, much like the memories of his righteous deeds sustained King Yayati in the company of the virtuous."

Sumantra Recounts the Farewells (Shlokas 2.58.11 - 2.58.25)

Moved by King Dasharatha's anguished inquiries, Sumantra began to recount the parting words of the exiled princes and Sita. His voice, choked with emotion, struggled to convey the heart-wrenching scene he had witnessed.

"O great king," Sumantra began, "Prince Rama, ever mindful of dharma, offered his salutations with folded hands and bowed head. He entrusted me with messages for you and the royal household."

Rama's words, as relayed by Sumantra, echoed with respect and duty:

"Convey my deepest respects to my father, the knower of self, whose feet I bow to in reverence. To all the women of the inner chambers, without distinction, express my wish for their well-being and offer my proper salutations."

Rama's message to his mother Kausalya was particularly poignant:

"Tell my mother Kausalya of my welfare and my respectful greetings. Urge her to remain steadfast in her duties, performing the fire rituals punctually. Ask her to serve my father, the king, as one would serve a god."

The prince's wisdom shone through as he continued:

"Advise my mother to set aside pride and ego in her dealings with the other queens. Especially urge her to guide Queen Kaikeyi to remain favorably disposed towards the king."

Rama's foresight extended to the future governance of the kingdom:

"Tell her to treat young Bharata as she would a king. Remind her that royalty holds seniority by virtue of their position, regardless of age. This is the dharma of kings, which she must keep in mind."

Sumantra's voice trembled as he recalled Rama's final instructions:

"Inform Bharata of my well-being, and tell him on my behalf to honor all our mothers equally. Tell my mighty-armed brother, the pride of the Ikshvaku clan, to support our aging father as he rules the kingdom."

Rama's love for his family was evident in his parting words:

"Remind Bharata that our father is advanced in years. He should not restrict the king in any way but should live happily as the crowned prince, faithfully executing our father's commands."

Sumantra paused, overcome by emotion, before continuing:

"O Maharaja, as Rama spoke these words, his lotus-like eyes filled with tears. He added, with a voice full of affection, 'Look after my mother, who yearns for her son, as you would your own mother.'"

The charioteer's recounting painted a vivid picture of Rama's unwavering devotion to his family and kingdom, even in the face of exile. His words, filled with wisdom and compassion, stood in stark contrast to the sorrow of the moment, highlighting the prince's noble character.

Lakshmana's Anger and Sita's Sorrow (Shlokas 2.58.26 - 2.58.37)

As Sumantra continued his account, the mood shifted dramatically with his recollection of Lakshmana's reaction. Unlike Rama's measured words, Lakshmana's response was filled with barely contained fury.

"O Maharaja," Sumantra said, "Lakshmana, seething with anger, spoke these heated words:

'For what transgression has this prince been exiled? The king, yielding to Kaikeyi's frivolous command, has committed an act - be it just or unjust - that has caused us all to suffer.

Whether Rama's banishment stems from greed for the kingdom or from the granting of a boon, it is, by all measures, a wicked deed. This act, done perhaps out of a misplaced sense of royal prerogative, lacks any justifiable reason for abandoning Rama.

This ill-considered decision, born of intellectual weakness, will surely bring about widespread lamentation. As for me, I no longer see fatherhood in the great king. Rama alone is my brother, protector, friend, and father.

How can the world remain loyal to you after you've forsaken Rama, beloved by all and devoted to everyone's welfare? Having exiled the righteous Rama, the delight of all subjects, how can you continue to rule, standing in opposition to the entire world?'"

Sumantra's voice grew softer as he recounted Sita's reaction. "And Janaki, that sensitive lady," he said, "stood sighing, as if possessed. Her face alternated between blank stares and inexplicable smiles, like one disconnected from reality.

This celebrated princess, who had never before faced adversity, wept in sorrow but could not bring herself to speak to me. As I prepared to leave, she gazed at her husband with a pale, dry face. Suddenly, upon seeing me depart, she burst into tears."

Sumantra's voice quivered as he concluded his account: "And so I left them thus: Rama, his face wet with tears and palms folded, supported by Lakshmana's strong arms; and the pitiable Sita, weeping, her eyes fixed upon the royal chariot and myself as we drove away."

This concludes the fifty eighth chapter (sarga) of Ayodhyakanda, the second book of the Ramayana, the great epic composed by the sage Valmiki.