Rama, with a gentle but earnest voice, began to speak to Sita, describing the hardships that awaited them in the forest. “Day and night,” he said, “one must be content with little, practicing self-restraint and living only on fruits that have fallen from the trees. Sita, the forest is full of hardship. Fasting must be observed for as long as one lives, O Maithili, and there, one must bear matted hair and wear garments of bark. The proper rites for the gods and ancestors must be performed without fail, and guests who arrive must always be honored. “A thrice-daily bath at the right times is required, always with discipline by those who dwell in the forest—thus, the forest life is even more difficult. Offerings must be made with flowers gathered by one’s own hand, following the Vedic rites upon the altar. Sita, the forest is indeed a place of hardship. One must remain content with whatever is found, O Maithili, accepting whatever food the forest yields. Again, Sita, the forest is full of hardship. “There are fierce winds, deep darkness, and constant hunger; many dangers lurk here, making the forest even more painful. Many serpents of various kinds, O beautiful one, roam boldly along the paths, increasing the pain of forest life. Snakes dwell in the rivers, winding their way and often blocking the way, making the forest journey still more difficult. Moths, scorpions, insects, and biting flies always torment the weak, filling the forest with suffering. “The trees are thorny, and there are kuśa and kāśa grasses, O beautiful one, with tangled branches everywhere—truly, the forest is full of hardship. Those who dwell in the wilderness face many bodily hardships and various fears; thus, the forest is always full of suffering. Anger and greed must be abandoned, the mind set firmly on austerity, and one must not fear what is fearful—such is the way of the forest, always full of hardship. “Therefore, Sita, it is not fitting for you to go to the forest; there is no safety for you there. As I consider, I see the forest brings many dangers.” Having spoken thus, Rama, the great-souled one, resolved not to take Sita with him. Yet Sita, unmoved by his words and deeply distressed, prepared to speak. This marks the end of the twenty-eighth chapter in the Ayodhyākāṇḍa of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Hearing Rama’s words, Sita’s heart was troubled, and tears streamed down her face as she slowly spoke. “The faults you have mentioned about life in the forest—know, out of my love for you, I see them as virtues. The deer, lions, elephants, tigers, sharabhas, camels, wild boars, and all the other creatures of the forest—because they have never seen your form before, O Rāghava, will all flee at your sight; truly, they all fear you. “I must go with you, by the command of our elders; if I am separated from you, Rama, I must abandon my life here. Even Indra, O Rāghava, 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 yourself have shown me such an example. “Moreover, O 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 these are surely endured by those whose minds are untrained. As a maiden in my father’s house, I heard of forest dwelling from a mendicant woman, gentle in conduct, in the presence of my mother. You have been entreated by me many times before, O lord, for the journey to the forest, for I long to go with you. I am prepared, O Rāghava, 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 pleaded with Rama in many ways, longing to accompany him, but the mighty-armed one did not consent to take her to the lonely forest. Having been thus spoken to, Maithili fell into deep anxiety, warm tears flowing from her eyes as if bathing the earth itself. Seeing her so troubled, Kakutstha, wishing to dissuade her, tried to console Vaidehi, who was seized by anger and sorrow, with many gentle words.