Rama, his heart full of concern, spoke gently to Sita, his beloved wife. “O beautiful one,” he said, “the forest is a place of great suffering. Many serpents of various forms roam boldly along the paths, making the wilderness all the more painful. Snakes dwell in the winding rivers and block the way, making travel even more difficult. Moths, scorpions, insects, and biting flies are ever present, tormenting the weak, so that the forest is filled with nothing but suffering. The trees are thorny, and the grasses—kuśa and kāśa—are sharp and tangled, their branches making the way harsh and impassable. For one who dwells in the wilderness, there are countless bodily hardships and many fears. Anger and greed must be abandoned, the mind must be set on austerity, and one must not fear what is fearful—for the forest is always full of hardship. “Therefore, it is not right for you to go to the forest. There is no safety for you there. As I consider it, I see only many dangers in the wilderness.” Though Rama, the great-souled one, tried to dissuade her, Sita did not heed his words. Deeply distressed, she spoke to him with tears streaming down her face. “Hearing your words, my lord, my heart is pained,” Sita replied, her voice trembling. “But know this: out of love for you, I see all these faults of forest life as virtues. The deer, lions, elephants, tigers, sharabhas, camels, wild boars, and all the other creatures of the forest—when they see you, O Raghava, they will flee, for none have seen your mighty form before. All are afraid of you. “I must go with you, as commanded by our elders. If I am separated from you, Rama, I cannot live; I would 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 yourself have taught me this. “Moreover, wise one, I have heard from learned brāhmaṇas, long ago in my father’s house, that I am destined to dwell in the forest. Hearing this prophecy, I have always been eager for forest life. It is said that I must receive the command to go to the wilderness, and so, with you, my husband, I will go—there is no other way for me. I will fulfill that command and depart with you; the time has come for the brāhmaṇas’ prophecy to come true. “I know there are many hardships in the forest, and that they are 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 front of my mother. I have pleaded with you many times before, O lord, to let me accompany you, for I long to go with you. I am ready, O Raghava, for the journey; the life of a hero in the forest 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 for a wife. Even after death, O blessed one, my union with you will endure; so the sacred teachings of renowned brāhmaṇas declare. In this world, the woman whom a man receives from his fathers, through water and according to his duty, remains his even after death. “Why, then, do you not wish to take me, your virtuous and devoted wife, from your own household? You ought to take me, who is devoted, faithful, destitute, and equal in happiness and sorrow—one who shares your joys and pains, O descendant of Kakutstha. If you do not wish to take me, thus afflicted, to the forest, then I shall embrace poison, fire, or water to end my life.” Thus, Sita pleaded with Rama in many ways, but the mighty-armed one still did not consent to take her to the lonely forest. Overwhelmed by anxiety, Sita wept bitterly, her tears falling to the earth. Seeing her so troubled, Rama, wishing to comfort her, spoke to Vaidehi with many gentle words, seeking to soothe her anger and distress. Consoled by his words, Sita, daughter of Janaka, spoke again to her husband, determined to join him in the forest. Distressed yet resolute, she addressed Raghava, whose chest was broad, with both affection and pride. “What did my father, the king of Mithila, think of you, Rama, when he chose you as his son-in-law? Did he see a woman in the form of a man? Alas, if people say in ignorance that there is no great energy in Rama, it is false—for you shine like the sun. What have you done to be troubled, or what danger do you fear, that you wish to abandon me, who has no other refuge? “Know me to be like Savitri, devoted to Satyavan, the heroic son of Dyumatsena—always acting according to your will.” Thus, Sita, steadfast in her devotion and love, pleaded with Rama, her heart set on sharing his hardships and joys, determined to accompany him into the forest, whatever trials may come.