The charioteer, having brought Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita, quickly conveyed them to the palace, where the king—the lord of the earth—awaited, heavy-hearted. As Rama approached with joined palms, the king, surrounded by his grieving queens, rose hurriedly from his seat, his heart burdened with sorrow. Overwhelmed by grief at the sight of his beloved son, the lord of men rushed toward Rama, but, unable to bear his anguish, collapsed to the ground, senseless. Rama and the mighty Lakshmana hastened to their father’s side, finding him stricken and nearly unconscious with sorrow. All at once, the palace was filled with the cries of thousands of women, their voices rising in lament, “Alas, Rama!” Their wailing mingled with the clamor of ornaments as they wept for the prince. Embracing Rama and Lakshmana with trembling arms, the attendants, along with Sita, gently lifted the weeping king and placed him upon his couch. After a moment, as the king slowly regained consciousness, Rama, with hands folded and eyes brimming with tears, addressed him, his voice choked with emotion: “Great king, lord of us all, I have come to take leave of you as I depart for the Dandaka forest. May you see me return safely.” He then pleaded, “Grant permission also to Lakshmana, and let Sita follow me. Though I have given them many reasons to remain, their hearts are steadfast—they do not wish to stay behind. O giver of honor, let your grief fall away and grant your blessing to all three of us—Lakshmana, Sita, and myself—as the Lord of creatures does for his children.” As Rama awaited his father’s untroubled consent, the king spoke, his voice laden with sorrow: “O Raghava, I am bound by Kaikeyi’s boon, deluded and helpless. It is you alone who should rule Ayodhya now, restraining me. Yet, I am powerless.” Hearing these words, Rama, ever righteous, bowed deeply and replied with gentle skill: “You, O king, should rule this earth for a thousand years. I desire no kingdom; I will dwell in the forest as commanded. When fourteen years have passed, I will return and again embrace your feet, O lord of men, at the end of my vow.” Tears streaming down his face, the king, tormented by truth’s chains and Kaikeyi’s urging, spoke to his beloved son: “Go, dear Rama, without anxiety. May your path be safe and unobstructed, and may you return in welfare and glory. Indeed, O delight of the Raghus, your mind is set on truth and righteousness; I know your resolve cannot be turned.” “But, my son,” he pleaded, “do not leave tonight. Stay at least this one day with me, so I may behold you a little longer.” The king’s voice trembled as he continued, “What you are doing for my sake, beloved Raghava, is truly difficult. Yet, by truth I swear, this does not please me. I have been deceived by a woman as destructive as fire hidden in ashes. The deception that has befallen me, you seek to overcome, urged by Kaikeyi, who is resolute but unrighteous. Yet it is not surprising, my son, that you, my eldest, wish to keep your father free from falsehood.” Hearing his father’s anguished words, Rama sorrowfully turned to Lakshmana: “What virtues will I gain today, and who will grant them tomorrow? Therefore, I choose only to depart, renouncing all desires. This earth, its provinces, people, wealth, and grain—I relinquish them all; let them be given to Bharata. My resolve to dwell in the forest will not waver. The boon you granted to Kaikeyi, O bestower of boons, must be fulfilled.” “Let it be given in full—be true to your word, O king. I will carry out your command exactly as spoken. I will dwell in the forest for fourteen years among the forest-dwellers. Do not hesitate—let the earth be given to Bharata. I do not desire the kingdom, nor happiness, nor anything dear to myself, as much as I wish to carry out your command, O delight of the Raghus.” “Let your sorrow depart; do not be overwhelmed with tears. The mighty ocean, lord of rivers, is never disturbed, and so should you be. I do not desire the kingdom, nor happiness, nor the earth, nor any of these pleasures, nor heaven, nor even life itself. You alone I desire in truth, O best of men, not falsehood. By your truth and virtue, I swear this before you.” “Nor is it possible for me, father, to remain even for a moment. Bear this grief, for there will be no change in my resolve. O Raghava, Kaikeyi has indeed asked me to go to the forest, and I replied, ‘I will go.’ Now, I faithfully uphold that truth. Do not be anxious, O Lord; we shall enjoy ourselves in the forest, peaceful and filled with gentle deer, resounding with the calls of many birds.” “For my father is regarded as a deity, even among the gods. Therefore, as if it were divine command, I shall carry out my father’s word. When fourteen years have passed, O best of kings, you will see me returned; let go of this sorrow. You, O tiger among men, who ought to restrain all these tears—why have you yourself succumbed to distress?” “The city, the kingdom, and the land itself I relinquish; let them be given to Bharata. I, obeying your command, shall go to the forest to dwell for a long time.