Rāma, born into a noble lineage and steadfast in righteousness, spoke to Sītā, his beloved Jānakī, to explain the circumstances that had befallen him. He told her, “Listen, Sītā, and understand how this has come to pass. My father, King Daśaratha, who always keeps his word, once granted two great boons to my mother, Kaikeyī. Now, as preparations were underway for my consecration and the king was ready to install me as heir, Kaikeyī reminded him of those boons, and bound by righteousness, he must fulfill his promise. By my father’s command, I am to dwell in the Daṇḍaka forest for fourteen years, while Bharata is appointed as heir-apparent. I have come to see you before I set out for the lonely forest, and I ask that you never speak of me in Bharata’s presence. Men blessed with prosperity do not tolerate praise of others; therefore, do not speak of my virtues before Bharata. The everlasting heir-apparency has been given to him by the king. Sītā, you must especially honor Bharata, and also the king. I, upholding my father’s promise, will depart for the forest today; 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 my father Daśaratha, lord of the people. My mother Kausalyā, aged and worn by sorrow, who always puts righteousness first, deserves your special honor. You must also bow to my other mothers with affection, devotion, and service, for they are all as mothers to me. Regard Bharata and Śatrughna as brothers and sons, for they are dearer to me than life itself. Never do anything displeasing to Bharata, for he is now king of the land and the family. When kings are honored by good conduct and diligent service, they are pleased, but are angered otherwise. Kings may even abandon their own sons if they act harmfully, and they 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, act according to my word.” Now begins the twenty-seventh sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Thus addressed, Sītā, worthy of affection and sweet in speech, 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. O noble one, 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 am 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. 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. 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. I will walk ahead of you, and eat only after you have eaten; afterwards, I wish to see mountains, ponds, and lakes. With you as my wise protector, I will fearlessly behold everywhere the lotus ponds, filled with swans and cranes, blooming beautifully. Joined with you, O hero, I wish to happily see them; I will perform ablutions in those ponds, always devoted to you. With you, O wide-eyed one, I will delight in supreme happiness; thus, for a thousand years or even a hundred, together with you. I will not transgress; even heaven does not appeal to me. If residence in heaven were possible without you, O Rāghava, O tiger among men, I would not desire even that.” Thus, Rāma and Sītā spoke their hearts to each other, each steadfast in their dharma, as the moment of separation approached.