As the time approached for Rama’s departure into exile, those who loved him could not bear the thought of Sita, the gentle and radiant princess, accompanying him into the harsh wilderness. With deep concern, they pleaded with Rama, “Go to the forest, dear child, with Lakshmana as your companion. This blessed lady, Sita, is not fit to dwell in the forest like an ascetic.” They entreated him further, “Grant us this request, son: let Sita, the luminous one, remain here. You, who are ever devoted to righteousness, do not wish to stay yourself, but let her remain.” Hearing these heartfelt words, Rama, the noble son of Dasharatha, quietly took the bark garment and tied it on Sita, whose character was as lofty as his own. As Sita accepted the bark clothing, the venerable royal priest, his eyes brimming with tears, tried to restrain her and addressed Kaikeyi, the queen: “You have gone too far, evil-minded Kaikeyi, disgrace of your lineage! You have deceived the king and do not abide by what is right.” The priest continued, “Sita, who lacks the discipline required for such a life, must not go to the forest, O Queen. She should remain here and perform her proper duties for Rama. For all who are married, their wives are their very selves; considering her as his own self, Rama will protect the earth. Now, as Vaidehī departs for the forest together with Rama, 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 all the people who live by him, the kingdom, the city, and its attendants.” He pressed on, “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 Rama is not king; that forest will become the kingdom where Rama 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 rise from the earth to the sky, he who knows the conduct of his ancestors will not act otherwise.” With sorrow, the priest declared, “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. Then, O queen, give the finest ornaments to your daughter-in-law, removing the bark garment; for Vasiṣṭha forbade that garment, saying it should not be given to her. For you, daughter of the king of Kekaya, have chosen only the exile of Rama in the forest; yet she, always adorned, will live in the forest with Rāghava. 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.” The people’s hearts broke as Sita, though protected, seemed utterly vulnerable while donning the bark garment. All those present cried out in anguish, “Shame on you, Dasharatha!” The king, distressed by this outcry, lost faith in life, virtue, and his own honor. Sighing deeply, King Dasharatha turned to his wife and said, “Kaikeyi, Sita should not go wearing a garment of kuśa 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.” With a heavy heart, Dasharatha 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?” He continued, “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 came here and spoke about 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, with head bowed, addressed him respectfully: “This is my mother Kausalya, righteous and renowned, aged and of noble character; and, 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. You should support my mother, who is like Indra’s consort and now stricken with sorrow, so that while I dwell in the forest, worn down by grief, she does not abandon her life and go to the abode of Yama.” But when King Dasharatha heard Rama’s words and saw him dressed as an ascetic, he and his wife were overcome by grief and lost consciousness. Tormented by sorrow, the king could not bring himself to look at Rama, nor, upon seeing him, could he utter a single word, his mind utterly overwhelmed.