The sage, his eyes filled with compassion, spoke of Sītā: “She is the daughter-in-law of Daśaratha, the virtuous daughter of Janaka, innocent and blameless, abandoned by her husband, and always deserving of my protection.” He urged all those present, “Let each of you regard her with the highest affection, and, out of respect for my words, let her be especially honored among you.” With these instructions, the illustrious sage repeatedly looked upon Vaidehī, and then, surrounded by his disciples, he returned to his own hermitage. As Sītā of Mithilā was led into the hermitage, Lakṣmaṇa’s heart sank, seized by intense anguish at the sight. He turned to Sumantra, the wise charioteer, and spoke with sorrow: “O charioteer, see the grief that has come to Rāma from Sītā’s suffering. What could be more painful for Rāghava than this—having abandoned his blameless wife, the daughter of Janaka? Surely, this is fate for Rāghava, to be without Vaidehī, for fate is indeed hard to overcome. Even Rāghava, who in his wrath could slay gods, gandharvas, asuras, and rākṣasas together, must follow the course of fate. Long ago, at his father’s command, Rāma dwelt in the lonely Daṇḍaka forest for fourteen years. Now, the exile of Sītā, which is even more painful, seems cruel to me after hearing the words of the citizens. O charioteer, what righteousness is there in this act, so disgraceful, which has come about for Maithili because of the citizens, who speak without true reason?” Hearing Lakṣmaṇa’s many words, Sumantra, wise and faithful, replied: “Do not grieve, Saumitri, regarding Maithili. This was foreseen by the sages, in your father’s presence, O Lakṣmaṇa. Rāma will certainly remain steadfast, though afflicted by sorrow, yet he will attain happiness in time; and surely, the mighty-armed one will experience separation from his loved ones. The great and righteous Rāma will eventually abandon you, Maithili, and both Shatrughna and Bharata as well. But this must not be spoken by you, Saumitri, nor by Bharata; the king spoke these words, which Durvasa also uttered. In the presence of the great assembly and myself, O best of men, the sage spoke these words also before Vasiṣṭha. Hearing the sage’s words, the best of men said to me: ‘O charioteer, never speak of this in the presence of people.’ I have always held the word of that lord of the world as not to be made false, O gentle one, such is my view. In any case, I should not speak of this before you, Saumitri; but if you have faith in hearing, listen, O descendant of Raghu. Although I was once told this secret by the king, still I will recount it, for fate is indeed inescapable. By whom this sorrowful and painful event has come to pass—yet you must not speak of it to Bharata or in the presence of Shatrughna.” Hearing these deep and weighty words, Saumitri then said to the charioteer, “Speak the truth.” Thus urged by the great-souled Lakṣmaṇa, Sumantra began to recount the words spoken by the sage Durvasa. He told how, long ago, Durvasa, the great sage and son of Atri, stayed for the rainy season at Vasiṣṭha’s holy hermitage. To that hermitage, Daśaratha, Lakṣmaṇa’s father—renowned for his splendor and immense fame—came, wishing to see the great-souled priest. He saw the radiant sage, blazing with energy like the sun, seated at the left side of Vasiṣṭha. The humble king respectfully greeted those two foremost ascetics; honored by them with words of welcome and a seat, he sat down. As they sat together, the supremely sweet stories of the great seers were recounted until the sun had set. Then, as one story was being told, the king, with joined palms, addressed Durvasa, the ascetic son of Atri: “Revered one, by what measure will my lineage endure? What will be my lifespan, and that of my son Rāma and my other sons? And what will be the lifespan of Rāma’s sons? Out of desire to know, revered one, tell me the destiny of my line.” Hearing these words spoken by King Daśaratha, the exceedingly powerful Durvasa began to reply: “Hear, O King, what happened long ago in the battle between gods and demons. The Daityas, threatened by the gods, took refuge with the wife of Bhṛgu. Granted safety by her, they remained there, free from fear. Seeing them protected by her, the enraged lord of the gods struck off Bhṛgu’s wife’s head with his sharp-edged discus. Then, seeing his wife slain, the illustrious scion of Bhṛgu, suddenly enraged, cursed Viṣṇu, destroyer of enemy hosts: ‘Because, in a fit of anger, you killed my wife, who was inviolable, therefore, O Janārdana, you will be born in the world of men.