Lakṣmaṇa, filled with fervor and loyalty, stood before Rāma and declared, “Today, I shall show the true might of my weapons. I will render the king powerless and establish your authority, my lord. Now is the time for sandalwood paste, for the removal of armlets, for the relinquishing of riches, and for the protection of friends. My arms are strong and ready, O Rāma, especially to repel anyone who would stand in the way of your consecration. Tell me, who is it today that shall fall by my hand—who, though not your friend, boasts of life, fame, and loyal followers? Command me, and I shall bring the earth under your sway, for I am your devoted servant.” But Rāma, wiping away his tears and gently consoling Lakṣmaṇa, the enhancer of the Raghava line, spoke with resolve: “Listen to me, gentle one. I am determined to follow my father’s command, for this is the path of righteousness.” As we enter the twenty-fourth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa’s Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, we see Kausalyā, her voice choked with tears, speaking to her son who is steadfast in obeying his father’s will. “My son, who has never known suffering, who is devoted to righteousness and speaks kindly to all—how will you, born of Daśaratha, live by gleaning in the forest? You, whose servants and attendants eat the finest foods—how will you now subsist on roots and fruits in the wilderness? Who could believe this tale, and who would not be filled with fear—that the virtuous and beloved son of the king, a descendant of Kakutstha, is being sent into exile? Surely, fate is powerful in this world, governing all things; for you, Rāma, so pleasing to all, are now going to the forest. Even the wind, which is like your own kin, now brings me only the pain of lamentation, fanned by my weeping and tears, as if feeding the fire of my sorrow. The great smoke of anxious tears, born of my worry for your departure, will consume me, and the exhaustion of sighs will only deepen my suffering. Deprived of you, my son, this boundless and intense fire of grief will consume me, just as the sun scorches the undergrowth at winter’s end. Like a cow follows her calf, so too will I follow you, my child, wherever you go.” Hearing his mother’s anguished words, Rāma, the best of men, replied to her who was overwhelmed with grief. “Deceived by Kaikeyī and abandoned by you once I have gone to the forest, the king surely will not survive. For a woman, to abandon her husband is an act of sheer cruelty; this must never be done by you, not even in thought, for it is to be condemned. As long as my father, the lord of the world and scion of Kakutstha, lives, serve him—this is the eternal duty.” Kausalyā, greatly pleased with her blameless son, replied, “So be it.” Yet Rāma, ever steadfast in righteousness, continued, “Both you and I must carry out the command of our father; for the king is husband, teacher, the highest, lord and master of all. But after spending these fifteen years in the great forest with utmost joy, I shall abide by your word.” Still, Kausalyā, her face wet with tears and her heart anguished, pleaded, “O Rāma, I cannot bear to dwell among these co-wives; take me also, O Kakutstha, to the forest, like a wild doe. If your mind is made up to depart out of regard for your father…” She wept, and Rāma, also weeping, spoke gently, “For a living woman, her husband is her deity and lord; today, for both you and me, the king is our master. We are not without protector, for the wise king, lord of the people, is ours; and Bharata too is righteous and speaks kindly to all.” Rāma continued, “Always act with care for the welfare of the aged king; a woman devoted to vows and fasting is the most excellent. If a woman does not follow her husband, she falls into misfortune; but by serving her husband, she attains the highest heaven. Even one who does not bow or has ceased worshipping the gods should still serve her husband, delighting in what pleases and benefits him. This is the eternal duty of a woman, declared in the Veda and in the world, and always observed in fire-rites and by the noble-minded towards the gods. O Lady, for my sake, let the gods be worshipped and the Brāhmaṇas honored; thus, wait for the time, longing for my return. Steadfast, with regulated diet, devoted to serving your husband, you will obtain the highest desire when I return.” If the best among the righteous preserves his life—thus Rāma spoke, his mother’s eyes brimming with tears. Kausalyā, afflicted by grief for her son, said, “My mind cannot accept your departure, my child.” Yet, with a heavy heart, she yielded to the unyielding force of time. “O hero, surely the time is unyielding and cannot be turned back; go, my son, with single-mindedness—may you always be blessed, O noble one. When you return, I shall be free from fatigue; when you, illustrious one, come back, having fulfilled your vow and accomplished your purpose, and having discharged your duty to your father, I will sleep in supreme happiness. The path of death, my son, is always difficult to discern in this world; whoever urges you, O Raghava, heed my words. Go now, mighty-armed one, and return safely; you will delight me, my son, with gentle and pleasing words.” Thus, with love, sorrow, and steadfast righteousness, the hearts of mother and son were bound as Rāma prepared to fulfill his father’s command.