The chief minister, Siddhārtha, addressed Queen Kaikeyī with measured words, “We find no fault in Rāghava; for him, to fall into hell is as impossible as a blemish marring the moon. Yet, O Queen, if you perceive any fault in Rāghava, speak truly today; then, and only then, shall Rāma be exiled. For to abandon one who is blameless and steadfast on the path of righteousness would destroy even Indra’s own brilliance, for it stands against dharma itself. Enough, O Queen, with the ruin of Rāma’s good fortune at your hands; you must also beware of public reproach, O auspicious one.” Hearing these words, King Daśaratha, his voice weary and broken by grief, spoke to Kaikeyī, “You do not wish to heed these words, though they are for your own good, though they may sound harsh. You do not know what is truly beneficial, neither for me nor for yourself. You have chosen a cruel path, your conduct straying far from the ways of the virtuous. Today, I shall follow Rāma, renouncing the kingdom, its comforts, and all its wealth; you and Bharata, with all the king’s people, may enjoy the kingdom as you wish for as long as you desire.” Thus ended that sarga, and the next began. Hearing the chief minister’s words, Rāma, ever humble and respectful, turned to his father and spoke gently, “O King, since I have renounced all pleasures and will live upon the fare of the forest, what need have I for an escort? When I have left behind every attachment, why would I require company? For one who, having given away a noble elephant, has set his mind on the enclosure, what use is the bond of a rope to him, when the great elephant is already gone? So, O best among the righteous, what use have I for an army, O lord of the world? Let all return; let them bring me only garments of bark. And bring, too, a spade and a basket, for I am to dwell in the forest for fourteen years.” At that moment, Kaikeyī herself, unashamed before all, brought the garments of bark to Rāghava and said, “Put these on.” That tiger among men accepted the bark garments from Kaikeyī, laid aside his fine cloth, and donned the ascetic’s attire. Lakṣmaṇa, too, setting aside his splendid garments, took up the ascetic’s covering before his father. Sītā, clad in silk, gazed upon the bark garment with fear, like a startled doe seeing a snare. The daughter of Janaka, marked by every auspicious sign, took the kusa-grass garment from Kaikeyī with downcast eyes, deeply troubled and shamed. Tears filled her eyes, yet, knowing and devoted to righteousness, she spoke to her husband, who shone among men like a king of the Gandharvas. “How do the sages dwelling in the forest wear such bark garments?” she asked, unskilled in such matters, and again and again she fainted. Taking one piece of bark in her hand, she placed it awkwardly around her neck and stood there, unpracticed and embarrassed. Rāma, foremost among the righteous, quickly came to her and himself tied the bark garment over Sītā’s silk attire. Seeing Rāma gently tie the bark garment upon Sītā, the women of the inner apartments wept, tears streaming from their eyes. Dependent upon him, they pleaded with Rāma, radiant as ever, “Child, this noble lady is not meant for such a forest life. By your father’s command you go to the lonely forest; let us at least see her remain here, O Lord. Go to the forest, dear child, with Lakṣmaṇa as your companion; this blessed lady is not fit to dwell in the forest like an ascetic. Grant us this request, son: let Sītā, the radiant one, remain here; you, ever devoted to righteousness, do not wish to stay now yourself.” Hearing their words, Rāma, son of Daśaratha, tied the bark garment on Sītā, who matched him in virtue. When she had donned the bark garment, the king’s venerable priest, his eyes brimming with tears, restrained Sītā and spoke to Kaikeyī, “You have gone too far, evil-minded Kaikeyī, disgrace of your lineage; having deceived the king, you do not abide by what is right. Sītā, lacking in proper conduct for the forest, must not go, O Queen; she will perform her proper duties for Rāma here. For all who are married, their wives are their very selves; considering her as his own self, Rāma will protect the earth.” Now, as Vaidehī prepares to depart for the forest with Rāma, we too will follow them, if this city is to be abandoned. The guards as well will go, wherever Rāghava goes with his wife, along with all those who dwell by him—the kingdom, the city, and its attendants. Bharata, together with Śatrughna, clad in bark, will dwell in the forest, following Kakutstha, their elder brother, as he lives there. Then, with the earth emptied of people and only trees remaining, you alone will rule, O wicked one, standing against the welfare of the people. For that will not be a kingdom where Rāma is not king; that forest will become the kingdom where Rāma dwells. Bharata does not wish to rule the land not given by his father, nor to live with you as a son, if he is truly born of the king. Even if you rose from the earth to the sky, he who knows the conduct of his ancestors would not act otherwise. Thus, by your greed for your son, you have wronged your own child; for in this world, there is no one who is not devoted to Rāma.