Rama, with gentle concern, described to Sita the many hardships of the forest. “The rivers there,” he said, “are swollen and muddy, filled with crocodiles, making them difficult to cross—even for mighty elephants. The forest itself is even more challenging, filled with suffering. The paths are overgrown with thorny vines and echo with the cries of peacocks. Water is scarce, and the way is exceedingly hard; everywhere, the forest brims with hardship. “At night, one must sleep on beds of scattered leaves upon the ground, wearied from toil and the discomfort of the wilderness. Day and night, contentment and self-restraint are essential, living only on fruits that have fallen from the trees. Fasting must be observed as long as one lives, O Maithili, and one must bear matted hair and wear garments of bark. “The rites for the gods and ancestors must be performed according to the proper rules, and any guest arriving must always be honored. Three times daily, one must bathe at the appointed hours, always with discipline—thus, life in the forest is even more difficult. Offerings must be made with flowers gathered by one’s own hands, as prescribed by the Vedas, upon the altar. Contentment must be maintained with whatever is obtained, O Maithili, and with whatever food the forest provides. “The forest is full of intense wind, deep darkness, and constant hunger. Dangers abound. Many serpents of various forms boldly roam the paths, and snakes dwell in the rivers, winding along their courses, blocking the way. Moths, scorpions, insects, and biting flies constantly torment the weak. The trees are thorny, and the forest is tangled with kuśa and kāśa grasses, their branches interlaced and difficult to pass. “For one who dwells in the wild, there are many bodily hardships and countless fears. Anger and greed must be abandoned, and the mind set on austerity. One must not fear even what is terrifying. Thus, Sita, the forest is always full of hardship. “For these reasons, it is not fitting for you to go to the forest. There is no safety for you there. As I consider all this, I see the forest brings many dangers.” Though Rama, the great-souled one, spoke thus and did not decide to take her with him, Sita did not heed his words. Deeply distressed, she then spoke to Rama. Hearing his words, Sita, her face streaming with tears, spoke slowly, her heart heavy. “The faults you have mentioned about life in the forest—know that, out of my love for you, I see them as virtues. The deer, lions, elephants, tigers, sharabhas, camels, wild boars, and all other creatures that roam the forest—because they have never seen your form, O Raghava, all of them, upon seeing you, will flee; indeed, all are afraid of you. “I must go with you, as commanded by our elders. If separated from you, Rama, I must abandon my life here. Even Indra, lord of the gods, could not harm me by force while I am near you. A woman bereft of her husband cannot survive; Rama, you have shown me such an example. “Moreover, wise one, I have heard from brāhmaṇas, long ago in my father’s house, that I must indeed dwell in the forest. Hearing this prophecy from learned brāhmaṇas at home, O mighty one, I have always been eager for forest life. It is said that I must receive the command for forest dwelling; so, with you, my husband, I will go—there is no other way, my beloved. I will fulfill that command and depart with you; the time has come, let the brāhmaṇa’s prophecy be true. “I know that many hardships are found in forest life, O hero, and are surely endured by those whose minds are untrained. As a maiden in my father’s house, I heard of forest dwelling from a gentle mendicant woman, in my mother’s presence. Many times before, O lord, I have entreated you for this journey, for I long to go with you. I am prepared, O Raghava, for the journey; the forest life of a hero appeals to me. “With a pure heart and out of love, I will remain free from sin, following my husband, for the husband is the highest deity. Even after death, O blessed one, my union with you will endure; for such is heard in the sacred teachings of renowned brāhmaṇas. In this world, the woman whom a man receives from his fathers, through water and according to his own duty, remains his even after death. “Why, then, from your own household, do you not wish to take me, a virtuous and devoted wife? By what reason here? You ought to take me, who is devoted, faithful, destitute, and equal in happiness and sorrow, O descendant of Kakutstha—one who shares your joys and pains. If you do not wish to take me, who is thus afflicted, to the forest, then I shall embrace poison, fire, or water for the sake of death.” Thus, Sita, her heart resolute and her love unwavering, pleaded with Rama, determined to accompany him into the forest, no matter the hardship.