Lakshmana spoke with a heavy heart to Rama, “O best of the Raghus, she—Sita—cheerfully troubles me constantly, and you too, Rama, cause me distress. This brings harm, not only here but also in the next world. For your sake, I always endure thirst and hunger without doubt. Consider, too, what this means for the world to come. “No one, say the wise, is seen to follow the dead—whether wife, son, or wealth. Even your father, Rama, abandoned the throne and left you in the forest to fulfill Kaikeyi’s wish, and then departed this life. Kaikeyi remains here with all the wealth and relatives, but King Dasharatha alone has gone on his final journey. I do not believe Sita will go with you; tell me, Raghava, what will you do with her?” Hearing Lakshmana’s words, which he had never spoken before, Rama stood silent and dejected. Sita, too, her beautiful face clouded, was downcast. Then, Sita did as Lakshmana had suggested: she bathed, ate, and afterwards, the two heroic brothers with lotus-like eyes rested. They passed the night there, and in the morning, Rama set his mind on departure. “Come, rise, Saumitri,” he said. “Let us go to the southern direction.” But Saumitri replied, “I will not go under any circumstances. You go with your wife, O lotus-eyed one. I will not go to another forest, nor to Ayodhya, O Raghava. I will remain in this forest for fourteen years. If you do not return to Ayodhya without me, O king, you must come back along this path. If I am alive at that time, I will return to my father’s city. I will practice austerity—what will you do with me then? Go, gentle one, may your path be auspicious and free from obstacles. I shall see you again, returned with your wife, O lotus-eyed one. “The kingdom of Ayodhya, inherited from fathers and grandfathers, is ruled by the king; both Shatrughna and Bharata remain ready to carry out your command. But I am opposed to you, especially during your stay in the forest; day and night, O scorcher of foes, I am constantly so. I am unable to perform the task; go, gentle one, as you wish.” Thus Rama addressed Saumitri, but Lakshmana pleaded, “How did you leave Ayodhya earlier together with me? I will dwell in the forest, O Rama, for nine years and five more. But I will not live anywhere, even in heaven, separated from you; whatever fate is yours, O tiger among men, that shall be mine as well. Grant me your favor; lead me also, O descendant of Raghu. Now, halfway along the path, how will you remain, O destroyer of enemies?” Lakshmana then declared again, “I will not go to the forest again.” Understanding Lakshmana’s resolve, Rama spoke gently, “Do not follow me, Saumitri; I will go to the forest alone. My second companion is Sita.” Hearing this, Lakshmana rose, accepting Rama’s words. The two brothers, destroyers of foes, reached the boundary of the sacred region, the mountain of propriety. There, Rama bowed in eightfold prostration and saluted the three-eyed Lord, the fragrance-less, the god of gods, Pinākin. Standing with palms joined, his body thrilled with devotion, Rama praised Shankara, beloved of Parvati. Attaining a pure and sattvic state, with passion and darkness dispelled, Rama understood the Lord, the cause of the worlds and chief of the gods. He prayed: “He who is the maker of this entire world, of all that moves and does not move, who gives pleasure and pain to all, who is the cause of dissolution at the end of time—unto that Shankara, giver of refuge, I seek refuge. “He who once bore upon his head the pure and beautiful Ganga, falling from the sky, turbulent with great waves, as if a garland of swaying flowers—unto that Shankara, giver of refuge, I seek refuge. “He whose lotus feet held steady the summit of Mount Kailasa, shaken by the ten-headed one, resembling the peak of Kailasa—unto that Shankara, giver of refuge, I seek refuge. “He who, in battle, defeated the sons of Danu, the hosts of Vidyādharas and serpents with all their boons, and united the great sages, eaters of fruits and roots—unto that Shankara, giver of refuge, I seek refuge. “He who, at Daksha’s sacrifice, destroyed the eyes of Bhaga and Pūṣan, and cast down their rows of teeth, who paralyzed Indra’s thunderbolt-wielding hand—unto that Shankara, giver of refuge, I seek refuge. “He whom even those with sinful acts and minds attached to sense objects, though not endowed with knowledge, lineage, or virtues, when they seek him, become enjoyers of happiness—unto that Shankara, giver of refuge, I seek refuge. “He whose birth was unexcelled, whose brilliance equaled countless suns, who struck terror into the foremost of gods and demons, who forcefully drank the blazing Kālakūṭa poison—unto that Śaṅkara, bestower of refuge, I seek refuge. “The blessed Maheśa, who has often granted boons to Brahmā, Indra, Rudra, the Maruts, and even to Six-faced Kārttikeya, who rescued Nandi from the jaws of death—unto that Śaṅkara, bestower of refuge, I seek refuge. “He who was worshipped with intense austerity in the groves of Himavat by Dhūmavrata, whose mind reached where others could not, who revealed the Sanjīvanī secret to the great-souled Bhṛgu—unto that Śaṅkara, bestower of refuge, I seek refuge. “He who is worshipped by hosts of attendants at Dakṣa’s sacrifice, with faces like elephants, monkeys, and cats, by the leaders of the Gaṇas, by the spirits, and by the guardians of the worlds—unto that Śaṅkara, bestower of refuge, I seek refuge. “He who, shining white as the conch, moon, and jasmine, mounts the mighty bull, accompanied by the daughters of the mountain king, who moves through the sky adorned with storm clouds—unto that Śaṅkara, bestower of refuge, I seek refuge. “He who protected the peaceful sage, devoted to restraint and discipline, when he was being dragged by fierce, terrible men, because the sage bowed in devotion and praised him—unto that Śaṅkara, bestower of refuge, I seek refuge. “He who, with his left hand and the nail of his lotus-finger, forcefully cut off the fifth head of Brahmā, which shone like a young lotus, in the presence of the gods—unto that Śaṅkara, bestower of refuge, I seek refuge. “He at whose feet, when bowed to with devotion and praised with pure words by one whose mind is tireless, the radiant sun dispels darkness with his own rays—unto that Śaṅkara, bestower of refuge, I seek refuge.” Thus, in devotion and humility, Rama praised the Lord and sought his refuge, standing at the threshold of a new journey.