Rāma, preparing to depart for the forest, spoke gently to Sītā, his beloved wife. He urged her to remain in Ayodhyā, instructing her with care and affection. "You must always bow to my other mothers as well," he said, "with affection, devotion, and service. They are all as mothers to me. Above all, regard Bharata and Śatrughna as equal to brothers and sons, for they are dearer to me than life itself. 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 they are angered in the opposite case. 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, so you must act according to my word." As Rāma finished, the twenty-seventh chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, unfolded. Sītā, worthy of affection and gentle in speech, was stirred by love and anger. She addressed her husband passionately, "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. 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 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." Her resolve unwavering, Sītā continued, "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 declared her willingness to live in the forest, "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!" Her determination shone, "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." Sītā's love was steadfast, "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 Sītā spoke thus, full of righteousness, Rāma, the foremost of men, did not wish to take her. He spoke many words to dissuade her, addressing her sorrow over dwelling in the forest. The twenty-eighth chapter then began. Rāma, loving righteousness and seeing Sītā's virtue, pondered the hardships of the forest and did not resolve to take her. Comforting her, whose eyes were stained with tears, the righteous one spoke gently, seeking 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. Sītā, 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. The roars of lions, born from mountain streams and living in mountain caves, are painful to hear; thus, the forest is distressing." Thus, Rāma and Sītā stood at the threshold of their exile, each expressing their love, duty, and resolve, their hearts entwined in the face of destiny.