Elephants trumpet, bells clang, chariots rumble and horses neigh on every side. The drums drown even the thunder, and no one can hear his own voice or another's. The crowd at the king's gate is so great that stones are ground to dust. Women on the balconies watch with lamps for arati on auspicious trays, singing lovely songs in joy beyond telling. Then Sumantra prepares two chariots, yoking horses that put the Sun's steeds to shame, and brings them to the king; not even Sharada could describe them. One is fitted with royal gear, the other blazes with radiance. Into that fine chariot the king gladly seats Vasishtha, then mounts his own, remembering Hara, his guru, Gauri and Ganesha.