Lakṣmaṇa, moved by deep emotion, spoke to Rāma with passionate intensity. “How can you, a valiant Kshatriya, speak so feebly of fate, as if it is powerless and pitiable? And how is it that you do not suspect any wrongdoing in those two—your father and Kaikeyi? There are indeed people who use righteousness as a pretense; O righteous one, do you not see this? If their conduct were truly sincere, free from selfishness or deceit, then, Raghava, the boon would have been granted long ago, and it would have been a proper one. I cannot bear, O hero, the beginning of another’s consecration, especially one so hated by the people. Please forgive me for my words. Even that righteousness, O wise one, which has led your mind into doubt, is hateful to me, since it causes you to be bewildered. How can you, by your own action, obey your father’s unrighteous and blameworthy command, acting under Kaikeyi’s influence? Though this division has been caused by wickedness, you still do not recognize it—and that brings me sorrow. Your attachment to righteousness is blameworthy here. 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, though called 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. He who is weak and lacking in valor follows fate, but heroes, who are self-respecting, do not submit to destiny. He who is able to overcome fate by human effort does not despair, even when afflicted by misfortune through destiny. Today, people will witness the power of fate and of human effort; today, the distinction between destiny and human action will become clear. Today, people will see fate overcome by my effort—those who saw your consecration for the kingdom thwarted by destiny. Like a mighty elephant gone mad, unrestrained even by the goad, I will chase down fate and turn it back with my own effort. Not even all the guardians of the worlds, nor all three worlds together, could prevent your consecration today, Rāma—much less your father. Those by whom your exile to the forest was arranged, O king, they themselves will dwell in the forest for fourteen years. Fate’s power 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 rule of the noble sons is complete, only then should you go to the forest—never 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 confusion of the kingdom with many princes, you, righteous Rāma, do not wish the kingship for yourself— I vow to you, hero, that I will not seek the world of heroes; I will protect your kingdom as the shore protects the ocean. Perform your consecration with auspicious rites and be engaged there; I alone will forcibly restrain the fire of the other kings. These two arms are not for ornament, nor is the bow for decoration; my headband is not for adornment, nor are my arrows for mere display. All these four—arms, bow, headband, and arrows—are for crushing the enemy; nor do I desire anything excessive from one considered my foe. With a sword of sharp edge, shining like a flash of lightning, I do not consider any enemy, even one armed with the thunderbolt, as equal to me. Crushed by the blows of my sword, the earth will be covered with the heads, arms, hands, and thighs of elephants, horses, charioteers, and warriors, making it impassable. Struck by the edge of my sword, my enemies will fall blazing to the ground like thunderclouds with lightning. With my fingers protected by leather guards and my bow and arrows in hand, how could any man consider himself a man while I stand among men? With my arrows, I will strike down many who are united in purpose, and even if alone, I will lay low multitudes, targeting the vital points of men, horses, and elephants. Today, the power of my weapons will truly be displayed; I will render the king powerless and establish your authority, lord. Today is the time for sandalwood paste, for the removal of armlets, for the relinquishing of riches, and for the protection of friends. These two arms of mine are indeed fit, O Rāma, for performing deeds—especially for repelling those who obstruct your consecration. Tell me, who today shall be struck down by me—who, though not your friend, boasts of life, fame, and loyal followers—so that this earth may come under your sway? Command me as you wish, for I am your servant.” Seeing Lakṣmaṇa in such turmoil, Rāma, the enhancer of the Raghava line, gently wiped away his tears and consoled him again and again. He spoke with calm resolve, “Hear me, gentle one: I am resolved to follow my father’s command. This, indeed, is the righteous path.” Now, listen to the twenty-fourth chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Seeing her son determined to obey his father’s command, Kausalyā, her voice choked with tears, spoke these righteous words: “He who has never known suffering, who is devoted to righteousness and speaks kindly to all beings—how will my son, born of Daśaratha, live by gleaning in the forest? He whose servants and attendants eat well-cooked food—how will this Rāma now eat roots and fruits in the forest? Who could believe this upon hearing it, and who would not be afraid—that the virtuous and beloved son of the king, a descendant of Kakutstha, is being exiled? Surely, fate is powerful in this world, directing all things; for you, Rāma, so pleasing to all, are now going to the forest.