Consoled by Rama, Sita—the noble Maithili, daughter of Janaka—spoke to her husband, longing to accompany him in the forest. Though greatly distressed, Sita addressed Rama, whose broad chest radiated strength, with affection and pride. She wondered aloud, “What did my father, the king of Mithila, think when he chose you, Rama, as his son-in-law? Did he see a woman disguised as a man?” Sita lamented that if people, out of ignorance, claimed Rama lacked great energy, their words were false, for Rama shines like the sun. She questioned him: “What have you done to deserve such trouble, or what fear threatens you, that you wish to abandon me, who has no other refuge?” Sita declared herself to be like Savitri, devoted to Satyavan, the heroic son of Dyumatsena, always acting according to Rama’s will. She vowed never to look upon anyone but him, O faultless one, and insisted she would follow him, unlike those who would bring disgrace upon their families. Sita reproached Rama, saying, “You wish to give your wife, pure and united with you since youth, to others, as if I were a dancer.” She reminded him that one should always be obedient and compliant to those for whom one strives, and pleaded, “Do not set out for the forest without me; wherever you go—ascetic retreat, wilderness, or heaven—let me be with you.” She assured Rama that she would not feel weariness as she followed him, just as she does in times of leisure and rest. The kusha grass, reeds, sharp stalks, and thorny trees along the way would feel as soft as cotton or deerskin, so long as she was with him. Even the dust raised by the wind, falling upon her, she would regard as precious sandalwood paste. When lying down on grassy patches in the forest, with bedding made of leaves, Sita felt nothing could be more pleasant. Whatever leaves, roots, or fruits Rama brought her, whether little or much, she would consider them as sweet as nectar. In the forest, she would not remember her mother, father, or home, as she enjoyed the seasonal flowers and fruits. Sita promised Rama that he would see nothing unpleasant because of her; she would not bring him sorrow nor become a burden. “With you,” she said, “even heaven is heaven; without you, it is hell. Knowing this, O Rama, take me with you, for my love for you is supreme.” But if Rama did not take her, unwavering as she was, to the forest, she would drink poison at once, rather than fall under the power of those who hate her. Even in sorrow, she would have no life; abandoned by her lord, death would be preferable. Sita confessed she could not endure this grief even for a moment—how could she bear it for fourteen years? Tormented by her anguish, Sita lamented at length, embracing Rama tightly and crying out in distress. Struck by many painful words, like a wounded female elephant, she released long-held tears, like fire from kindling. Water as clear as crystal flowed from her lotus-like eyes, born of her anguish. Her face, white and pure as the moon, with wide eyes, was dried by tears, like a lotus deprived of water. Rama, seeing her senseless with grief, embraced Sita with his arms and spoke words to comfort her. “O lady,” he said, “not even heaven pleases me if it comes with sorrow; I have no fear at all, like the self-born creator. Without knowing your every wish, O auspicious one, I do not desire to dwell in the forest, even though I am able to protect you.” He explained, “Since you were created together with me for dwelling in the forest, Maithili, my affection for you, as for my own self, cannot be abandoned.” But he added, “O daughter of Janaka, I would not go to the forest if my father’s command, strengthened by truth, did not compel me. This is righteousness, O woman of lovely hips: obedience to father and mother. If I were to disregard their command, I could not bear to live.” Rama reflected, “How can one worship destiny, which is not under one’s control, by neglecting those who are—mother, father, and teacher? Where these three exist, O woman of auspicious eyes, it is as pure as the three worlds on earth; nothing else equals it, and thus it is to be revered. Neither truth, nor charity, nor honor, nor sacrifices with abundant gifts, O Sita, are as powerful as service to one’s father. Heaven, wealth, grain, knowledge, children, and happiness—nothing is unattainable through devoted service to one’s teacher. Great souls devoted to mother and father attain the worlds of the gods, Gandharvas, cows, and even Brahma’s realm.” Rama affirmed, “As my father, established in the path of truth and righteousness, instructs me, so I wish to act; for that is the eternal law. My mind is firmly resolved, O Sita, to lead you to the Dandaka forest; so be certain to follow me and dwell there. You have been destined, O flawless-limbed one with intoxicating eyes, for the forest; follow me, O timid one, and be my companion in righteousness.