As the tense scene unfolded in the royal palace, Siddhārtha, the chief minister, spoke with conviction: “To abandon one who is blameless and devoted to the righteous path would destroy even Indra’s radiance, for it stands opposed to dharma.” He turned to Queen Kaikeyī, his tone firm yet respectful. “Enough, O Queen, with Rāma’s fortune being ruined by you; you must also guard yourself from public reproach, O auspicious one.” Hearing these words, King Daśaratha, weary and overcome by grief, spoke to Kaikeyī in a voice heavy with sorrow: “You do not wish to heed these words, which are for your own good, though they may appear harsh. You do not know what is beneficial for either me or yourself. Having taken to a cruel path, your conduct has strayed from the way of the good. Today, I will follow Rāma, renouncing the kingdom, comfort, and wealth. You and Bharata, along with all the king’s people, may enjoy the kingdom as you wish for a long time.” Thus ended the thirty-sixth sarga, and the thirty-seventh sarga began in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Now, Rāma listened to the words of the chief minister and addressed his father Daśaratha with humility and respect. “O King, since I have renounced pleasures and will live in the forest, subsisting on forest fare, what need is there for an escort? I have abandoned all attachments. For one who, after giving away an excellent elephant, sets his mind on the enclosure, what use is the bond of a rope to him, when he has already let go of the noble elephant? So, O best of the virtuous, what use have I for an army, O lord of the world? I permit all to return; let them bring me only garments of bark. And bring both the spade and basket as I go, for I must dwell in the forest for fourteen years.” Kaikeyī herself, unmoved by shame before the gathered crowd, brought the garments of bark to Rāghava and said, “Put these on.” Rāma, the tiger among men, accepted the garments from Kaikeyī, set aside his fine cloth, and donned the ascetic’s attire. Lakshmana, too, set aside his splendid garments and took up the ascetic’s covering before his father. Sita, still clad in silk, looked upon the bark garment with fear, like a frightened doe seeing a snare. The daughter of Janaka, possessing auspicious marks, took the kusa-grass garment from Kaikeyī with downcast eyes, deeply troubled and ashamed. Her eyes filled with tears, knowing and devoted to righteousness, she spoke to her husband, who was like a king among Gandharvas: “How do the sages dwelling in the forest wear such bark garments?” Unskilled in such matters, Sita repeatedly fainted. Taking one piece of bark in her hand, she placed it 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 Sita’s silk attire. Seeing Rāma tie the garment on Sita, the women of the inner apartments wept, tears streaming from their eyes. Completely dependent, they addressed Rāma, blazing with splendor: “Child, this noble lady is not meant for such a forest dwelling. By the command of your father you go to the lonely forest; let our seeing her be fulfilled, O Lord. Go to the forest, dear child, with Lakshmana as your companion; this blessed lady is not fit to dwell in the forest like an ascetic. Grant us this request, son: let Sita, the radiant one, remain here; you, ever devoted to righteousness, do not wish to stay now yourself.” Hearing these heartfelt words, Rāma, son of Daśaratha, tied the bark garment on Sita, who was equal to him in character. When she had taken the bark garment, the king’s venerable priest, his eyes filled with tears, restrained Sita 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. Sita, lacking in proper conduct, must not go to the forest, O Queen; Sita 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.” He continued, “Now, as Vaidehī departs for the forest together with Rāma, we will follow them from here, if this city is to be abandoned. The guards too will go, wherever Rāghava goes with his wife, along with the people who live by him, the kingdom, the city, and its attendants. Bharata, together with Shatrughna, 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, 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 born of the king. Even if you rise from the earth to the sky, he who knows the conduct of his ancestors will not act otherwise.” The priest’s words grew sharper: “Thus, by you, greedy for your son, a wrong has been done to your son; in this world, there is no one who is not devoted to Rāma. Today, Kaikeyī, you will see beasts, wild animals, birds, and trees all turning toward Rāma as he departs. Then, O queen, give the finest ornaments to your daughter-in-law, removing the bark garment; but Vasiṣṭha forbade that garment, saying it should not be given to her.” Thus, amid tears and sorrow, the royal household witnessed the righteous Rāma and his companions prepare for exile, as the people mourned the harshness of Kaikeyī’s actions and the injustice that had befallen their beloved prince and princess.