Sita, overwhelmed by grief at the prospect of separation from Rama, pleaded with him in anguish. She declared that even after his departure, life would hold no meaning for her; abandoned by her beloved, death would be preferable. The sorrow she felt was unbearable even for a moment—how could she endure it for fourteen years? Tormented by her pain, Sita lamented at length, clinging tightly to her husband and crying out in distress. The words she spoke were like arrows wounding her spirit, and the tears she had long held back flowed forth, like fire bursting from dry kindling. From her lotus-like eyes poured water as clear as crystal, born from the depths of her suffering. Her face, usually radiant and pure as the moon, was now dried by tears, resembling a lotus deprived of its nourishing water. Seeing her thus, Rama gently embraced Sita, as if to comfort her senseless with grief, and spoke soothing words. He assured her, "O lady, even heaven holds no pleasure for me if it brings sorrow. I am fearless, 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 capable of protecting you. You were created together with me for life in the forest, Maithili, and my affection for you, as for my own self, cannot be abandoned." Rama continued, "Indeed, O daughter of Janaka, I would not go to the forest if not compelled by my father's command, which is strengthened by truth. 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 beyond control, by neglecting those who are within reach—mother, father, and teacher? Where these three exist, O woman of auspicious eyes, purity reigns as it does in the three worlds; nothing 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 who honor mother and father attain the worlds of the gods, Gandharvas, cows, and even Brahma's realm. As my father, established in truth and righteousness, instructs, so I wish to act; for that is the eternal law." Resolutely, Rama told Sita, "My mind is firmly set, 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. In every way, O Sita, your resolve is fitting for me and 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." He instructed her, "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 imminent, Sita, joyful and eager, promptly began to give away gifts. Filled with delight and fulfillment, the illustrious lady, having heard Rama's words, began to distribute wealth and jewels, noble-minded among the righteous. At this point, Lakshmana arrived, having heard their conversation. His face was overwhelmed with tears, unable to endure his sorrow. Pressing Rama's feet firmly, Lakshmana, the delight of the Raghu lineage, spoke to Sita and 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 the delightful forests, resounding everywhere with flocks of birds and herds of wild animals. I do not seek the realm of the gods, nor immortality; nor do I wish for the sovereignty of worlds without you." Thus speaking, Saumitri, resolved to dwell in the forest, though restrained by Rama with many gentle words, spoke again: "Since you permitted me before, why now again do you restrain me? For what reason is this prohibition made against me, who wishes to go? I wish to know, for I am uncertain, O blameless one." Then the mighty Rama spoke to Lakshmana, who stood before him steadfast, seeking, with joined palms: "Affectionate, devoted to righteousness, steadfast, always established in virtue, dear as life, obedient, victorious, and my friend—if you, Saumitri, go with me today to that forest, who will serve Kausalya or the illustrious Sumitra? The mighty king, who showers desires upon the earth like a cloud, is bound by the fetters of desire." Thus, the thirty-first chapter in the Ayodhyākāṇḍa of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa comes to a close, marking the poignant moment when Sita, Rama, and Lakshmana prepare for their journey into exile, bound by duty, love, and righteousness.