Bharata as well as his younger brother (Ýatrughna) and friend (Guha) were so enraptured that their joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, were all forgotten. Uttering the words “Protect me, my lord; save me, my master” he fell flat on the ground like a log, Lakƒma˜a recognized his loving speech and concluded in his mind that it was Bharata making obeisance.* On the one hand there was the loving affection of an elder brother (Bharata), while, on the other, there was the stronger claim of service to his master. He was, therefore, neither able to meet his brother (Bharata) nor ignore him; some good poet alone could describe Lakƒma˜a’s state of mind. He threw his whole weight on the side of service and remained where he was, even as a kite-flier would pull against a kite that has risen high in the air. Bowing his head to the ground he lovingly said, “Bharata is making obeisance to you, O Lord of Raghus.” Overwhelmed with emotion Ýr¶ RŒma started up as soon as He heard this, His robe flying in one direction, and His quiver and bow and arrows in another. (1—4)