With gentle gravity, Rāma spoke to Sītā, imparting his final instructions before his departure to the forest. “My mother, Kausalyā,” he said, “is aged and worn by sorrow. She has always placed righteousness above all else and deserves your special honor. Bow also to my other mothers—treat them with affection, devotion, and service, for they are all as mothers to me. And you must regard Bharata and Śatrughna as you would brothers or sons, for they are dearer to me than life itself. “Never do anything that might displease Bharata, O Vaidehī, for he is now the king of our land and our family. Kings, when honored by good conduct and diligent service, are pleased, but they are angered by the opposite. Indeed, a king may even abandon his own son if he acts harmfully, and 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 in your 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 now you must act according to my word.” Hearing these words, Sītā, the gentle and sweet-spoken Vaidehī, became angry out of love and addressed her husband with emotion. “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, a prince among heroes and sons of kings. “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, 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. “My mother and father have instructed me 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 there, 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! 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.” Though she spoke thus, full of righteousness, Rāma, the foremost of men, did not wish to take Sītā with him. He spoke many words to dissuade her, addressing her sorrow over dwelling in the forest. Seeing Sītā’s resolve and knowing her virtue, Rāma, ever devoted to righteousness, still hesitated, pondering the hardships of the forest. Then, comforting her as tears stained her eyes, the righteous one spoke gently to persuade her to stay. “Sītā, you are of noble lineage and always devoted to righteousness. Remain here and practice virtue, so that my mind may be at ease. Sītā, you must do as I tell you, O gentle one; listen, for there are many dangers in the forest for those who dwell there. Let go of this intention for forest dwelling; the wilderness is called so because it is full of dangers. I speak this out of concern and wise counsel; I never know happiness there, only sorrow always in the forest.” Thus did Rāma and Sītā speak, each with love, each with deep concern for the other, as the time of their separation drew near.