As the preparations for Rāma’s consecration as heir-apparent were underway, he spoke to Sītā with a heavy heart. “While everything was being arranged for my installation and the king was ready to place me on the throne, Queen Kaikeyī intervened. Bound by his promise and righteousness, my father is now fulfilling her wish. By his command, I must dwell for fourteen years in the Daṇḍaka forest, and Bharata has been appointed to the heir-apparency. “I have come to see you before I set out for the lonely forest. Once I am gone, you must not speak of me in Bharata’s presence. Those blessed with prosperity do not tolerate hearing praise of others; therefore, my virtues should not be spoken of before Bharata. The everlasting heir-apparency has been given to him by the king, so you must especially honor Bharata, Sītā, as well as the king. “I will leave today itself for the forest, upholding my father’s promise. Be steadfast, O resolute one. When I have departed for the forest, which is 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, the lord of the people. “My mother Kausalyā, aged and worn by sorrow, always putting righteousness first, deserves your special honor. You must also bow to my other mothers, treating them with affection, devotion, and service, for they are all as mothers to me. “And you must regard Bharata and Śatrughna as equal to brothers and sons, for they are dearer to me than life itself. Never do anything that would displease Bharata, O Vaidehī, for he is now king of the land and our family. Kings, when honored by good conduct and diligent service, are pleased, but the opposite angers them. Sometimes, kings may even abandon their own sons if they act harmfully, and they may accept capable people, even if they are outsiders. “Therefore, O blessed one, remain here, devoted to the king, delighting in righteousness toward Bharata, and steadfast in truth and vows. I shall go to the great forest, dear one, but you must stay here, O beautiful lady. As you have always done no wrong to anyone, so now you must act according to my word.” Thus Rāma spoke, and now begins the next chapter of the story. Hearing these words, Sītā, who was gentle and worthy of affection, became angry out of love and spoke to her husband. “What is this you are saying, Rāma? Surely you speak these words lightly. Hearing them, O best of men, I feel as though 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. 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. 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 on, 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 the best refuge for a wife. “My mother and father have taught me much; now, there is nothing more to say—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 you. “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. “I will go to the forest, though it is exceedingly difficult, filled with deer, monkeys, and elephants; I will dwell there as in my father’s house, holding your feet, with your approval. With unwavering devotion and a heart attached to you, separated from you, I am resolved to die; take me, kindly grant my request, and by me your burden will not be increased.” Thus, Sītā spoke, her love and resolve shining forth as she pleaded to join her beloved Rāma in exile.