In the royal hall, Lakshmana, setting aside his splendid garments, took up the humble attire of an ascetic before his father, embracing the path of exile alongside his brother. Sita, adorned in silk, gazed fearfully at the bark garment, much like a frightened doe confronted with a snare. The daughter of Janaka, bearing auspicious marks, received the kusa-grass garment from Kaikeyi with downcast eyes, troubled and ashamed. Tears welled in Sita’s eyes as, devoted to righteousness, she addressed her husband, who shone like a king among Gandharvas. She asked, her voice trembling, “How do the sages in the forest wear such bark garments?” Unskilled in such matters, Sita fainted repeatedly, overwhelmed by the prospect. Taking a piece of bark in her hand, she awkwardly placed it around her neck, standing embarrassed and unpracticed. Rama, foremost among the righteous, quickly came to her side and himself tied the bark garment over Sita’s silk attire. The women of the inner apartments, witnessing Rama tie the bark garment on Sita, shed tears, their hearts aching. Dependent upon Rama, they pleaded with him, radiant in his splendor: “Child, this noble lady is not meant for such a forest dwelling. By your father’s command you must go to the lonely forest; let us be fulfilled by seeing her here, O Lord.” They continued, “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 their words, Rama, son of Dasharatha, tied the bark garment on Sita, who was his equal in character. When Sita had donned the bark garment, the king’s venerable priest, his eyes filled with tears, restrained her and spoke to Kaikeyi. “You have gone too far, evil-minded Kaikeyi, disgrace of your lineage; having deceived the king, you do not abide by what is right. Sita, lacking in proper conduct for the forest, must not go, O Queen; Sita will perform her proper duties for Rama here. For all who are married, their wives are their very selves; considering her as his own self, Rama will protect the earth.” He declared, “Now, as Vaidehi departs for the forest with Rama, we will follow them if this city is to be abandoned. The guards, the people, the kingdom, the city, and its attendants will go wherever Raghava goes with his wife. Bharata and Shatrughna, clad in bark, will dwell in the forest, following Kakutstha, their elder brother. 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 Rama is not king; wherever Rama dwells, that forest will become the kingdom.” He continued, “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 rise from earth to sky, he who knows the conduct of his ancestors will not act otherwise. 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 Rama. Today, Kaikeyi, you will see beasts, wild animals, birds, and trees all turning toward Rama as he departs.” The priest then advised, “O queen, give the finest ornaments to your daughter-in-law, removing the bark garment; but Vasistha forbade that garment, saying it should not be given to her. For the residence of Rama alone in the forest has been chosen by you, daughter of the king of Kekaya; yet she, always adorned, will live in the forest with Raghava. Let the princess go, well attended by the finest vehicles and servants, with all kinds of garments and arrangements; she is not bound by your grant of the boon.” As Sita, protected yet as if unprotected, donned the bark garment, all the people cried out, “Shame on you, Dasharatha!” Distressed by their outcry, the king lost faith in life, virtue, and his own honor. The Ikshvaku king sighed deeply and spoke to his wife: “Kaikeyi, Sita should not go wearing a garment of kusa grass. She is delicate, young, and always accustomed to comfort; my teacher has truly said she is not fit for the forest. She does nothing for anyone, this ascetic daughter of the best king; standing in the midst of the people, wearing bark, she appears senseless, like some wandering mendicant.” He pleaded, “Let the daughter of Janaka cast off these garments of bark; I have never before made such a vow. Let the princess go to the forest as she wishes, taking all her ornaments and treasures. By me, who am unworthy of life, a cruel vow has been made and strictly kept. But you, out of childishness, have accepted this; do not let it burn you up, like fire consumes a dry reed. If Rama has ever done you, O wicked one, any wrongful or improper act, what harm has this lowly Vaidehi shown you here? With eyes wide like a startled deer, gentle in nature and noble in mind, what harm could Janaka’s daughter ever do to you? Surely, O wicked one, sending Rama into exile is enough for you. Why do you commit these further pitiful and sinful acts?” Thus, the pain and turmoil of the royal household unfolded, as Sita, Rama, and Lakshmana prepared to leave for the forest, their hearts heavy, yet steadfast in dharma.