When Lakṣmaṇa, filled with deep devotion and concern, spoke his heartfelt words, Kausalyā, Rama’s mother, was overcome by sorrow. Tears streamed down her face as she addressed her beloved son, Rama. In her grief, she pleaded with him, “Do not, after hearing the harsh and unrighteous words of my co-wife, abandon me in my agony and depart from here. You are renowned for your understanding of righteousness and your commitment to its practice; therefore, while you remain in Ayodhyā, serve me and fulfill the highest duty.” She reminded Rama of the great sage Kāśyapa, who, by serving his mother with obedience in his own home, attained heaven. “Just as you honor your father, so too must you honor me,” she insisted. “I do not permit you to leave for the forest. Without you, my life and happiness lose all meaning; I would rather eat grass, if only I could remain with you. If you go to the forest, leaving me consumed by sorrow, I will stay here and fast unto death, unable to endure the pain. If you abandon me, you will incur infamy and fall into hell, as did the ocean for the sin of killing a Brahmin.” As Kausalyā lamented in this way, Rama, steadfast in righteousness, gently replied to her, speaking words aligned with dharma. “Mother, I do not have the power to disobey my father’s command. With bowed head, I beg you—please permit me to go to the forest. Even sages, living in the forest and obeying their fathers, have sometimes committed acts they knew to be unrighteous, as did the wise Kaṇḍu who killed a cow. In our lineage, Sagara’s sons dug the earth at their father’s command, causing great destruction. Rāma, the son of Jamadagni, even slew his own mother Reṇukā in the forest to obey his father’s word. Many godlike men have carried out their fathers’ commands without hesitation; I, too, shall do what pleases my father.” He continued, “It is not only I who practice obedience to my father; those whom I have just mentioned did so as well. I do not seek a new or contrary path of righteousness—this is the course approved by the ancients, and I follow it. Therefore, I must fulfill my father’s command on earth, for no one ever comes to harm by doing so.” Having spoken thus to his mother, Rama turned to Lakṣmaṇa, who was known for his eloquence and prowess. “Lakṣmaṇa, I know your unrivaled affection for me, your valor, steadfastness, and your formidable strength. My mother, blessed and noble, is suffering a sorrow incomparable, unable to grasp the deeper intent of truth and self-restraint. Righteousness is supreme in the world, and truth is founded upon it; even my father’s command is rooted in righteousness and is most excellent. O hero, when one pledges to the words of a father, mother, or Brahmin, a person devoted to righteousness must never disregard them.” Rama declared, “I cannot transgress my father’s command again; for, by my father’s word, I have been urged by Kaikeyi. Therefore, abandon your noble resolve, which is grounded in the duty of warriors. Instead, take refuge in righteousness, not harshness—let your mind follow mine.” Out of affection, Rama thus spoke to his brother, and then, with joined palms and bowed head, he addressed Kausalyā once more: “Grant me your permission, O Lady, as I depart to the forest; you are bound to me by my very life—please perform auspicious rites for me. When my vow is fulfilled, I shall return from the forest to Ayodhyā, just as King Yayati, having once abandoned, returned to heaven. Bear your grief in your heart, Mother, and do not sorrow; I will return from the forest after fulfilling my father’s command. By you, by me, by Vaidehi, by Lakṣmaṇa, and by Sumitra, we must abide by our father’s command—this is the eternal law. Mother, gather the necessary provisions and restrain your sorrow; since my mind is set on dwelling in the forest, let it be followed in righteousness.” Hearing Rama’s unwavering and righteous words, the queen regained her senses as if returning from the brink of death. She looked at Rama and spoke again, “Just as your father is to you, so am I—your teacher, by duty and affection. I do not permit you, my son, to leave me, so deeply afflicted. What is life to me without you, or what is the world, or even the nectar of immortality? A moment in your presence is worth more to me than all the world.” Rama, hearing his mother’s pitiful lament, felt his grief burn even deeper, like a great elephant driven by torches into darkness. He saw his mother nearly senseless with sorrow and Sumitra’s son tormented by pain. Yet, steadfast in righteousness, he spoke words appropriate to dharma. “Lakṣmaṇa, I always know your devotion and valor. But since my intention is not being considered, do not, along with my mother, distress me with such deep sorrow. In this world, righteousness, wealth, and desire all arise from the fruits of righteousness; all those who live are without doubt as obedient as a wife, along with her sons, who is dear and under control. One should pursue that in which all are united, from which righteousness arises; for one who is solely intent on gain becomes hated, and self-indulgence is not commendable.” Rama continued, “Who, acting with cruelty, would fail to carry out the task assigned by a teacher, king, father, or elder, whether out of anger, joy, or desire, after considering what is right? I am not able to fulfill my father’s promise completely as it should be; for he, O father, is our teacher by command, the husband of the queen, and the path of righteousness.” Thus, Rama, unwavering in his devotion to dharma, gently but firmly reaffirmed his resolve to fulfill his father’s command, despite the sorrow of his beloved mother and brother.