As Sītā beheld Rāma, she was troubled by a strange sight. She wondered aloud, “Why does your foremost chariot, adorned with flowers and drawn by four swift horses with golden trappings, not go before you as it always does?” Her concern deepened as she looked for his splendid elephant, renowned for its auspicious marks and as dark as a rain cloud or mountain, but it too was absent from his procession. She searched for his beautiful royal seat, embellished with gold, which usually preceded him in honor, but found it missing as well. Puzzled, Sītā asked, “Now that preparations for your consecration are underway, why is this happening? Your face bears an unfamiliar expression, and I see no joy in you.” Lamenting thus, she awaited his reply. Rāma, the delight of the Raghus, spoke gently to her: “Sītā, my father is sending me to the forest.” He continued, “Born in a noble lineage and knowing righteousness, listen, Jānakī, to how this fate has come to me. My father, King Daśaratha, true to his word, once granted two great boons to Kaikeyī, my mother. Now, as preparations for my consecration were underway and the king was ready to install me, Kaikeyī reminded him of those boons. Bound by righteousness, the king must fulfill her request.” He explained further, “By my father’s command, I must dwell in the Daṇḍaka forest for fourteen years, and Bharata has been appointed as heir-apparent. I have come to see you before I set out for the lonely forest. In Bharata’s presence, you must never speak of me, for those endowed with prosperity do not tolerate praise of others. Therefore, my virtues must not be spoken of before Bharata.” Rāma advised her, “The everlasting heir-apparency has been given to Bharata by the king; you must honor him especially, Sītā, and likewise the king. I will uphold my promise to my teacher and go to the forest today itself; be steadfast, O resolute one. When I have gone to the forest frequented by sages, you must devote yourself to vows and fasting, O blameless one. Rise early, worship the gods as prescribed, and bow to Daśaratha, my father, lord of the people. My mother Kausalyā, aged and worn by sorrow, deserves your special honor for her righteousness. You must always bow to my other mothers as well; with affection and devotion, serve them, for they are all as mothers to me.” He continued, “Especially regard Bharata and Śatrughna as equal to brothers and sons, for they are dearer to me than life. Never do anything displeasing to Bharata, O Vaidehī, for he is king of the land and our family. Kings, when honored by good conduct and diligently served, are pleased, but are angered otherwise. Kings may even abandon their own sons if they act harmfully and accept capable people, even if they are outsiders. 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 ends the twenty-sixth sarga of the Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Hearing Rāma’s words, Vaidehī, who was worthy of affection and spoke sweetly, became angry out of love and spoke to her husband, “What is this you are saying, Rāma? Surely these words are spoken lightly. Hearing them, O best of men, I think you are mocking me. Such unworthy and disgraceful words should not be spoken by you, O prince, among heroes, sons of kings, and those skilled in weapons and missiles.” Sītā continued, “Father, mother, brother, son, and daughter-in-law—all enjoy their own merits and pursue their own destinies. But a woman alone partakes in her husband’s destiny, O best of men; therefore, I too have been instructed to dwell in the forest. For women, neither father, nor son, nor self, nor mother, nor friends are the way—here or hereafter; the husband alone is always their path.” She declared, “If you set out today for the difficult forest, O Rāghava, I will go before you, treading down the grass and thorns. Casting away jealousy and anger, as one discards water left after drinking, lead me, O hero, with confidence—there is no sin in me. Whether at the top of a palace, in a flying chariot, or moving through the sky, in every situation, the shade of the husband’s feet is best for the wife. I have been instructed by my mother and father in many ways; now, there is nothing more to say to me—I must act as I have resolved.” Sītā asserted, “I will go to the difficult forest, devoid of men, filled with many kinds of deer and frequented by groups of tigers. I will dwell happily in the forest, just as in my father’s house, caring nothing for the three worlds, thinking only of my devotion to my husband. Serving you always, disciplined and observing chastity, I will delight with you, O hero, in the honey-scented woods. You, Rāma, are able to protect even others in the forest—how much more so me, O giver of honor! Therefore, I will go with you to the forest today, without doubt; O greatly fortunate one, I cannot be turned back once I am resolved. I will always subsist on fruits and roots, without doubt; I will not cause you any distress, dwelling with you constantly.” Thus, Sītā’s unwavering love, devotion, and resolve shone forth as she insisted on sharing Rāma’s destiny, ready to accompany him into exile, no matter the hardships.