Then Rama, foremost among the righteous, swiftly approached Sita. With his own hands, he gently tied the coarse bark garment over her fine silk attire, preparing her for the life of exile. As Rama did this, the women of the inner apartments looked on, and tears streamed from their eyes, unable to bear the sight of the noble Sita being clad in such humble clothing. Overcome with grief and concern, these women, utterly dependent on Rama’s goodness, raised their voices to him, who shone with virtue. “Child,” they pleaded, “this noble lady is not meant for such a life in the wilderness. By your father’s command, you must go to the lonely forest—let us at least be blessed with one last sight of her, O Lord.” They continued, “Go to the forest, dear child, with Lakshmana at your side, but this blessed lady is not suited to dwell in the forest as an ascetic. Grant us this one request: let Sita, radiant and gentle, remain here. You, ever devoted to righteousness, do not wish to stay yourself, but let her remain.” Rama, son of Dasharatha, heard their heartfelt words but, steadfast in his resolve, continued to tie the bark garment on Sita, who was his equal in virtue and character. As Sita accepted the bark garment, the venerable royal priest, his eyes brimming with tears, tried to restrain her and addressed Kaikeyi. “You have gone too far, evil-minded Kaikeyi, disgrace of your lineage. Having deceived the king, you do not follow the path of righteousness. Sita, who has never erred in conduct, should not go to the forest, O Queen. She should remain here, performing her duties to Rama from the palace.” He continued, “For all married couples, the wife is the husband’s very self. Considering her as his own self, Rama will protect the earth. Now, as Vaidehi departs for the forest with Rama, we too will follow them from here, if the city is to be abandoned. The guards will go wherever Raghava goes with his wife, along with all the people who depend on him—the kingdom, the city, and its attendants.” “Bharata and Shatrughna, too, will don bark garments and dwell in the forest, following their elder brother Kakutstha. 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 where Rama is not king, there is no kingdom; that forest will become the kingdom where Rama dwells.” “Bharata does not wish to rule a land not given by his father, nor to live with you as a son, if he is truly the king’s child. Even if you ascend from earth to sky, he who knows the conduct of his ancestors will not act otherwise. By your greed for your son, you have wronged him; in this world, there is no one who is not devoted to Rama.” “Today, Kaikeyi, you will see even beasts, wild animals, birds, and trees turning toward Rama as he departs. O queen, give the finest ornaments to your daughter-in-law, removing the bark garment; but the sage Vasishta has forbidden that bark garment for her. For it was only Rama’s exile that was granted by your boon, daughter of the king of Kekaya; yet Sita, always adorned, will live in the forest with Raghava.” “Let the princess go, well attended by the finest vehicles and servants, with every kind of garment and arrangement. She is not bound by your boon.” As these events unfolded, all the people cried out in anguish as Sita, protected yet as if unprotected, put on the bark garment. Their voices rose in lament: “Shame on you, Dasharatha!” The king, distressed by this outcry, lost faith in his own life, virtue, and honor. The great 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 has harmed no one, this gentle daughter of the noble king. Standing among the people, wearing bark, she appears senseless, like a wandering mendicant. 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, unworthy of life, a cruel vow has been made and strictly kept. But you, out of childishness, have accepted this; do not let it consume you, as fire consumes a dry reed. If Rama has ever wronged you, O wicked one, what harm has this lowly Vaidehi shown you?” “With her 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?” “I have already promised, as you demanded, O queen, in the presence of all, when you spoke of Rama’s consecration. Now, by exceeding that, you wish to go to hell, since you even want to see Maithili dressed in bark cloth.” As his father spoke thus, Rama, ready to depart for the forest, stood with head bowed and addressed him respectfully: “This is my mother Kausalya, righteous and renowned, aged and of noble character. My lord, she does not blame you. O giver of boons, you should honor her—now bereft of me, plunged into an ocean of grief, facing a sorrow she has never known before. You, who are to be revered, should care for her so that she does not perish from grief for her son. For thinking of me, that devoted woman would live only because of you.