Rama, with gentle firmness, consoled Lakshmana, saying, “Do not grieve. Like me, you too should swiftly set aside the preparations for my consecration. These very jars, which have been readied for the royal anointing, will now serve another purpose: I shall use them for the ceremonial bath of an ascetic, marking my vow. Or, if not these, what need have I for royal paraphernalia? The water I draw with my own hands will suffice for the bath required by my vow. “Do not let your heart be troubled, Lakshmana, by this sudden turn of fortune. Whether it is the kingdom or the forest, know that a life in the forest is full of great merit. Do not suspect Lakshmana or my younger mother for this obstruction to my kingship. It is not my father’s doing, nor theirs—fate alone has intervened. You know well, Lakshmana, how powerful destiny is.” Thus begins the twenty-third chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. As Rama spoke these words, Lakshmana, his head bowed low, entered the midst of the gathering, his mind torn between sorrow and anger. His brow furrowed deeply, and he breathed heavily, like a great serpent enraged in its lair. His face, darkened by a fierce frown, became as hard to behold as that of an angry lion. Shaking his clenched fist—like an elephant swinging its trunk—he tilted his head to the side and upward, letting his neck fall. Casting a sidelong glance at his brother, he spoke, his voice trembling with emotion: “This great agitation of yours has arisen in vain. How could someone as steadfast as you, ever mindful of righteousness and public opinion, speak so resignedly? How is it that you, a valiant Kshatriya, speak so feebly of fate, as if it were some powerless, pitiable thing? How can you not suspect any wrongdoing in those two? There are people who use righteousness as a pretense—do you not see this, O righteous one? “If their conduct were truly sincere, not driven by selfishness or deceit, then, Raghava, the boon would have been granted long ago, and it would have been a proper one. I cannot bear to witness the initiation of another’s consecration, begun in a manner hated by the people—please forgive me for this, O hero. Even that righteousness, which now clouds your mind with doubt, is hateful to me, since it leads you into confusion. “How can you, by your own action, obey your father’s unrighteous and blameworthy command, given at Kaikeyi’s urging? Though this division has been caused by wickedness, you still do not recognize it. That brings me sorrow, and your attachment to righteousness is now misplaced. “This adherence to righteousness of yours is condemned by the world. How could you, even in thought, serve those two—who always act for their own gain, and are enemies in the guise of father and mother? Even if your resolve, and their will, are determined by fate, still you ought to disregard it; yet even that does not please me. It is only the weak and those lacking valor who submit to fate; heroes, who are self-respecting, do not yield to destiny. “He who is able to overcome fate by human effort does not despair, even when afflicted by misfortune. Today, people will see the power of fate and the power of human endeavor; today the distinction between destiny and action will become clear. Those who saw your consecration thwarted by destiny will now witness fate overcome by my effort. “Like a mighty elephant gone mad, unrestrained by the goad, I will pursue fate itself and turn it back with my own strength. Not even all the guardians of the worlds, nor all three worlds together, could prevent your consecration today, Rama—much less your father. Those who arranged your exile to the forest, O king, will themselves dwell in the forest for fourteen years. “The power of fate cannot match the strength of one intoxicated with might; my fierce effort will prevail, bringing suffering to the enemy. After a thousand years have passed and the noble sons have ruled, only then should you go to the forest—not now. “For, according to the custom of ancient royal sages, forest dwelling is prescribed only after entrusting the people to sons who care for them as their own children. But if, out of concern for the kingdom’s confusion—with so many princes—you, righteous Rama, do not wish for the kingship yourself, then hear my vow: I will not seek the world of heroes; I will protect your kingdom as the shore guards the ocean. “Go ahead, perform your consecration with auspicious rites and take up the throne; I alone will forcibly restrain the fire of the other kings. These two arms are not for ornament, nor is this bow for decoration; my headband is not for mere adornment, nor are my arrows for display. All these—my arms, bow, headband, and arrows—exist to crush the enemy, and I desire nothing excessive, even from one considered my foe. “With my sword, sharp-edged and shining like a flash of lightning, I do not consider any enemy, even one armed with the thunderbolt, to be my equal. Struck by my blows, the earth will be covered with the heads, arms, hands, and thighs of elephants, horses, charioteers, and warriors, rendering it impassable. My enemies, struck by my sword’s edge, will fall blazing to the ground like thunderclouds with lightning. With my fingers protected by leather guards, and bow and arrows in hand, how could any man consider himself a man while I stand among men?” Thus Lakshmana, burning with devotion and indignation, poured forth his resolve before Rama, determined to defend his brother’s honor and right.