Sita, with a heart full of unwavering devotion, spoke gently to Rama: “Whatever leaves, roots, or fruits you bring me—be it little or much—I will cherish them as sweet as nectar itself. There, in the forest, I will not remember my mother, father, or the comforts of home, for I shall delight in the flowers and fruits that each season brings. You need not fear that I will encounter anything unpleasant, nor will you cause me sorrow or become a burden to me. With you, even heaven is truly heaven; without you, it is nothing but torment. Knowing this, Rama, take me with you, for my love for you is supreme. “But if you do not take me, steadfast as I am, into the forest, I will at once drink poison—may I never fall into the power of those who hate me. Even if I survive, abandoned and sorrowful, I could not live without you; death at that moment would be preferable. I cannot bear this grief even for a moment—how then could I endure fourteen years of such sorrow?” Tormented by her anguish, Sita lamented at length and, embracing her husband tightly, cried out in distress. Struck by her painful words, like a female elephant wounded by arrows, she released the tears she had long held back, as fire bursts forth from kindling. From her lotus-like eyes, tears as clear as crystal flowed, born of her deep sorrow. Her face, white and pure as the moon, with wide eyes, was dried by her tears, like a lotus with its water drawn away. Seeing her thus overwhelmed, Rama embraced her in his arms, comforting her as one senseless with grief. He spoke soothingly: “O gentle lady, 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 have no desire to dwell in the forest, even though I am able to protect you. Since you were created together with me for life in the forest, Maithili, my affection for you, as for my own self, cannot be abandoned. “Indeed, daughter of Janaka, I would not go to the forest if my father’s command, bound 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. 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; nothing else equals it, and thus it is to be revered. “Neither truth, nor charity, nor honor, nor even 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. As my father, steadfast in 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 enchanting eyes, for the forest; follow me, O gentle one, and be my companion in righteousness. In every way, O Sita, your resolve is fitting for me and for your lineage; your decision, O beautiful one, is most admirable. Begin, O woman of auspicious hips, the tasks suited for forest life; now, O Sita, even heaven does not please me without you. “Give jewels to the Brahmins and food to the mendicants; grant to those who ask, and hurry—do not delay. All the precious ornaments, fine garments, and whatever delightful items there are for play—beds, vehicles, and all my other possessions—give them to our servants, after giving to the Brahmins.” Knowing her husband’s departure was near, Sita, joyful and eager, promptly began to give away gifts. Delighted and her heart fulfilled by Rama’s words, the illustrious lady, noble-minded among the righteous, gave away wealth and jewels. At this point, the thirty-first chapter of the Ayodhyakanda of the glorious Valmiki Ramayana concludes. Having heard the conversation between Rama and Sita, Lakshmana arrived, his face streaming with tears, unable to bear his sorrow. Pressing his brother’s feet firmly, the delight of the Raghu lineage spoke to the illustrious Sita and to Rama, the great vow-holder: “If you have resolved to go to the forest filled with deer and elephants, I will follow you ahead, bearing my bow. Joined by me, you will wander through delightful forests, resounding with flocks of birds and herds of wild animals. I do not seek to ascend to the realm of the gods, nor do I desire immortality; nor do I wish for the sovereignty of the worlds without you.” Thus spoke Saumitri, resolved on dwelling in the forest, and though Rama tried to restrain him with gentle words, he spoke again: “Since I was already permitted by you before, why now again is restraint imposed upon me?