With a gentle and composed heart, Rama turned to Queen Kaikeyi and spoke, “O queen, do not be angry with me as I leave for the forest. Instead, grant us your blessings, so that, when my period of exile is fulfilled, I may return just as Yayāti returned by the power of truth. I do not seek great fame merely for the sake of ruling a kingdom. In this fleeting life, O queen, today I choose the lesser earth, not out of unrighteousness.” Having resolved to please his mother, Rama—the bull among men—was eager to depart for the Dandaka forest. With steadfast determination, he offered heartfelt instructions to his younger brother and, in his heart, reverently circumambulated his mother. Turning to Lakshmana, his beloved brother and friend, Rama saw him deeply distressed and burning with indignation—his eyes blazing like a furious lord of elephants. Rama, unwavering in spirit, addressed Lakshmana with calm composure, restraining his own sorrow and anger through courage. He cast aside humiliation and embraced a higher joy. “Whatever has been prepared for my consecration,” Rama said, “let it all be withdrawn at once; let us not delay. O Saumitri, the efforts made for my coronation should now be turned toward its cancellation. Let us act so that our mother, whose mind is troubled on account of my consecration, may no longer be anxious. I cannot endure, even for a moment, the pain of suspicion arising in her mind, O Saumitri. Never, knowingly or unknowingly, have I done anything to displease my mothers or my father. “My father, always steadfast in his vows and devoted to truth, should remain free from fear, concerned only with the consequences in the next world. If I do not fulfill this command, even for her, my mind would be troubled by the thought that truth is not upheld, and her suffering would afflict me. Therefore, Lakshmana, let us withdraw the arrangements for my consecration. I wish to depart for the forest immediately. “Today, with my exile, the king's wife will have achieved her purpose; then let them consecrate her son Bharata, free from anxiety. When I have gone to the forest, wearing garments of bark and a crown of matted hair, Kaikeyi will find peace of mind. The decision that has brought this about, and the mind so firmly resolved, I ought not to disturb. I will leave for exile without delay. “O gentle one, it is fate alone that must be seen in my banishment and in the reversal of the kingdom that had already been promised to me. How could Kaikeyi's resolve to harm me have arisen unless it had been ordained by fate? You know well, gentle one, that I have never shown any distinction among my mothers, nor any special preference for her or her son. Therefore, with her harsh words meant to prevent my consecration and send me into exile, I see no other cause but fate behind her actions. “How could a princess, endowed with noble qualities, speak like an ordinary woman, causing me pain in the presence of her husband? But destiny, which is beyond thought, does not spare any living being; clearly, misfortune has fallen upon both her and me. Who, O gentle Lakshmana, is able to contend with fate, when nothing but what is destined comes to pass? “Even seers of fierce austerity, impelled by fate, abandon their intense vows and fall under the sway of desire and anger. Whatever unexpectedly arises here, without being conceived beforehand, and interrupts what has been begun—surely, that is the work of fate. With this understanding, restraining myself by my own mind, I feel no distress even though my consecration has been thwarted. “Therefore, do not grieve; you too, following me, quickly withdraw the preparations for the consecration. With these very jars, Lakshmana, all prepared for the coronation, I will perform the vow-bath of an ascetic. Or else, what need have I for this royal paraphernalia? The water I myself draw will suffice for the bath required by my vow. Do not, Lakshmana, be troubled by this reversal of fortune; whether it is the kingdom or the forest, the life of the forest is of great merit. “Lakshmana is not to be suspected in this obstruction to my kingship, nor is my younger mother; fate has intervened, not my father in any way—you know well how powerful destiny is.” Hearing these words, Lakshmana, his head bowed in sorrow and anger, quickly entered the chamber. His mind was seized by both grief and rage. The best of men, Lakshmana, furrowed his brow and breathed heavily like a great serpent, enraged in its den. At that moment, his face, fierce with a frown, was as hard to behold as the face of an angry lion. He shook his clenched fist, like an elephant shaking its trunk, tilting his head sideward and upward, letting his neck fall. Glancing at his brother with the front of his eyes, Lakshmana spoke, “This great agitation of yours has arisen in vain. Because of concern for a fault in righteousness, and out of excessive regard for public opinion, how could someone like you, unshaken, speak in this way?