Having bowed deeply to his mother Kausalya, Rama—his mind firmly set on the path of righteousness—prepared to depart for the forest. Resolute in duty, he took leave of his mother and stood steadfast, unwavering in his purpose. As Rama, the royal son, made his way along the crowded royal road, his virtues shone forth, stirring the hearts of the citizens who watched him with admiration and sorrow. Yet, within the palace, Sita, daughter of Janaka and devoted to austerity, remained unaware of the city’s mood. Her heart was fixed only on the joyful anticipation of Rama’s impending consecration as heir-apparent. Having performed her divine duties and, well-versed in royal conduct, she waited gratefully and joyfully for the outcome. Rama then entered his own resplendent house, which was filled with people eager and delighted at the prospect of his coronation. Out of modesty, his face was turned slightly downward. Sita, rising up and trembling, beheld her husband. She saw that Rama was deeply afflicted with sorrow, his senses disturbed by anxious thoughts. Seeing Sita, that righteous scion of the Raghu dynasty could no longer conceal the grief in his heart; he became visibly distraught. Sita, observing her beloved husband pale-faced, sweating, and unresentful, was herself tormented by sorrow and asked, “What is this now, my lord? Today is the auspicious day of Brihaspati joined with Pushya, as declared by the learned Brahmins, O Raghava; why do you appear so troubled in mind?” She continued, “Your charming face, which is usually shaded by the white umbrella with a hundred ribs, as pure as sea-foam, does not shine forth today. Nor is your lotus-eyed face fanned by the two chief fly-whisks, bright as the moon and as white as a swan, as is customary. The eloquent bards and heralds, who are always delighted to praise you, O bull among men, do not appear today; nor do the Sutas and Magadhas recite auspicious verses. The Brahmins, masters of the Vedas, do not anoint your head with honey and curds as prescribed for one being consecrated. All the citizens and chiefs of the guilds, adorned for the occasion, do not wish to follow you, nor do the townspeople and countryfolk. Why does your foremost, flower-adorned chariot, yoked with four swift horses decked in gold, not go before you? Nor do I see your splendid elephant, honored for all auspicious marks and dark as a rain cloud or mountain, leading your procession, O hero. Nor do I see your beautiful, gold-embellished royal seat placed in front, as you, O hero, proceed at the head. Now that the consecration is prepared, why is this with you? Your face shows an unfamiliar color, and no joy is seen.” As Sita lamented in this way, Rama, the delight of the Raghus, spoke to her gently, “Sita, my father is sending me to the forest. Born in a great family, a knower and follower of righteousness, listen, Janaki, to how this has come to me in due course. Long ago, my father, King Dasaratha, true to his word, granted two great boons to Kaikeyi, my mother. Now, just as my consecration was being prepared and the king was about to install me, she has claimed those boons. Bound by righteousness, my father is fulfilling his promise.” Rama’s voice was steady but sorrowful as he continued, “By my father’s command, I must dwell in the Dandaka forest for fourteen years, and Bharata is to be appointed heir-apparent. Therefore, I have come to see you as I set out for the lonely forest. In Bharata’s presence, you must never speak of me, for men endowed with prosperity do not tolerate praise of others; thus, my virtues must not be spoken of before Bharata.” He went on, “The everlasting heir-apparency has been given to him by the king; he must be especially honored by you, Sita, and so too the king. I, upholding that promise to my teacher, will go to the forest today itself; be steadfast, O resolute one. When I have gone, O auspicious one, to the forest frequented by sages, you must devote yourself to vows and fasting, O blameless one. Rising early, perform worship of the gods as prescribed, and bow to Dasaratha, my father, lord of the people.” Rama’s instructions were gentle but firm: “And my mother Kausalya, aged and worn by sorrow, putting righteousness first, deserves your special honor. You must always bow to my other mothers as well; with affection, devotion, and service, for they are all as mothers to me. You must especially regard Bharata and Shatrughna as equal to brothers and sons, for they are dearer to me than life. You must never do anything displeasing to Bharata; for he, O Vaidehi, is king of the land and the family. Kings, when honored by good conduct and diligently served, are pleased, but are angered in the opposite case. For kings may even abandon their own sons if they act harmfully, and they accept capable people, even if they are outsiders.” With great affection, Rama concluded, “Therefore, O blessed one, remain here, devoted to the king, delighting in righteousness towards Bharata, and steadfast in truth and vows. I shall go to the great forest, dear one; but you must stay here, O beautiful lady. Just as you have never done wrong to anyone, so you must act according to my word.” Thus Rama spoke. Hearing these words, Vaidehi—Sita, who was ever worthy of affection and spoke sweetly—became angry out of love and addressed her husband.