In the forest, the trees are thorny, their branches tangled, and kuśa and kāśa grasses abound, making the wilderness a place of hardship, O beautiful one. Life in the forest brings many bodily hardships and various fears; truly, it is always full of suffering. To dwell there, one must abandon anger and greed, setting the mind upon austerity, and not shrink from what is fearful—for the forest is ever a place of trial. Therefore, Rama gently told Sita that it was not fitting for her to accompany him into the forest, for he saw no safety for her there. As he considered the dangers, he resolved not to take her with him. But Sita, deeply distressed, did not heed his words. With tears streaming down her face, she spoke to Rama, her heart full of sorrow. Sita replied, “The faults you have mentioned about forest life, out of my affection for you, I see as virtues. The deer, lions, elephants, tigers, sharabhas, camels, wild boars, and all the creatures that roam the forest—because they have never seen your form before, O Rāghava, all will flee at the sight of you; indeed, they fear you. I must go with you, by the command of 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, 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 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, before my mother here. 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. Thus, from your own household, you do 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.” Sita pleaded with Rama in many ways to be allowed to go, but the mighty-armed one did not consent to take her to the lonely forest. Having been thus spoken to, Maithili fell into anxiety, bathing the earth with warm tears flowing from her eyes. Seeing her so troubled, Kakutstha, wishing to dissuade her, consoled Vaidehi, who was seized by anger, with many gentle words. Consoled by Rama, Maithili, daughter of Janaka, spoke again to her husband for the sake of dwelling in the forest. Greatly distressed, Sita addressed Raghava, whose chest was broad, with affection and pride: “What did my father, the king of Mithila, think of you, Rama, upon receiving you as a son-in-law—did he see a woman in the form of a man? Alas, if people say out of 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 fear is there for you, 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. I will not, in my mind, look upon anyone but you, O faultless one; I would go with you, Raghava, as another would, bringing disgrace upon her family. You yourself wish to give your wife, who is pure, has lived with you since youth, to others, like a dancer, O Rama. To whom you have spoken what is proper, and for whose sake you strive, you should always be obedient and compliant to that person, O faultless one.” Thus, Sita poured out her heart, pleading to accompany Rama, her words filled with love, resolve, and devotion.