Sita, with deep love and unwavering resolve, spoke tenderly to Rama. She assured him that, because of her devotion, he would never encounter anything unpleasant in the forest; she would not be a source of sorrow or burden to him. For her, heaven itself was only heaven when she was with Rama—without him, even the highest realms felt like hell. Knowing this truth, she pleaded with him to take her along, declaring her supreme love. Her determination was absolute. If Rama refused to bring her, Sita said she would rather drink poison than be left behind at the mercy of those who disliked her. She could not imagine life without him; if he abandoned her, death would be preferable to such sorrow. The grief was unbearable even for a moment—how could she endure fourteen years of separation? Tormented by anguish, Sita lamented at length, clinging tightly to her husband and crying out in distress. Her words, piercing and painful, wounded her like arrows strike a female elephant. Long-suppressed tears burst forth, like fire igniting dry kindling. From her lotus-like eyes, crystal-clear water flowed, born of her suffering. Her moon-bright face, usually radiant and pure, was now dried by her tears, like a lotus deprived of water. Seeing her thus overwhelmed, Rama gently embraced Sita, as if she had lost her senses to grief, and spoke words of comfort. He told her that even heaven held no joy for him if it came with sorrow; he was fearless, like the self-born creator. Without knowing her wishes, he had no desire to dwell in the forest, even though he could protect her. Sita, he said, was created together with him for life in the forest; his affection for her was as deep as for his own self and could never be abandoned. Rama explained that he would not go to the forest if his father’s command, rooted in truth, did not compel him. This was righteousness: to obey father and mother. If he disregarded their command, he could not bear to live. How could one worship destiny, which is beyond control, and neglect those who are within reach—mother, father, and teacher? Where these three are honored, it is as pure as the three worlds; nothing equals it, and it must be revered. He continued, telling Sita that service to one’s father is more powerful than truth, charity, honor, or even grand sacrifices. All blessings—heaven, wealth, food, knowledge, children, happiness—are attainable through devoted service to one’s teacher. Great souls who honor their parents attain the realms of gods, Gandharvas, cows, and even Brahma’s world. Rama’s father, steadfast in truth and righteousness, had instructed him, and Rama wished to act accordingly, for this was the eternal law. His mind was firmly resolved: he would lead Sita to the Dandaka forest, and she must follow him and dwell there. Sita was destined for the forest; he urged her, gentle and timid, to be his companion in righteousness. He praised Sita’s resolve, saying it was fitting for him and for her own lineage; her decision was most admirable. He asked her to begin the tasks suited for forest life, for even heaven was not pleasing to him without her. He instructed her to give jewels to the Brahmins and food to mendicants, to grant to those who ask, and to hurry without delay. All the precious ornaments, fine garments, delightful items for play, beds, vehicles, and all his possessions should be given to their servants after gifting the Brahmins. Understanding her husband’s impending departure, Sita, joyful and eager, promptly began to give away gifts. Delighted and with her heart fulfilled, the noble-minded lady began to distribute wealth and jewels, as Rama had instructed. This concludes the thirty-first chapter of the Ayodhyākāṇḍa in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Having heard this conversation, Lakshmana arrived, his face overwhelmed with tears, unable to bear his sorrow. Pressing his brother’s feet firmly, the delight of the Raghu lineage spoke to Sita and Rama, the great vow-holder. If Rama was resolved to go to the forest filled with deer and elephants, Lakshmana declared he would follow ahead, bearing his bow. With Lakshmana joining them, Rama and Sita would wander through delightful forests, resounding with flocks of birds and herds of wild animals. Lakshmana sought neither the realm of gods, nor immortality, nor the sovereignty of worlds without Rama. Thus, Saumitri, resolved to dwell in the forest, though gently restrained by Rama, spoke again. Since Rama had already permitted him before, why was he now restrained? Lakshmana wished to know the reason for this prohibition, for he was uncertain. Then, the mighty Rama spoke to steadfast Lakshmana, who stood before him with joined palms, seeking guidance.