As the time approached for Rama’s departure to the forest, Queen Kaikeyī was urged to give Sītā, her daughter-in-law, the finest ornaments, removing the bark garment she wore. However, the venerable sage Vasiṣṭha intervened, forbidding that garment to be given to Sītā. He reminded Kaikeyī that it was only Rama whom she had chosen to send into exile, not Sītā. Yet, Sītā, accustomed to adornment, would accompany Rāghava into the forest. Vasiṣṭha advised that the princess should go well attended, accompanied by the best vehicles and servants, with all kinds of garments and arrangements, for she was not bound by Kaikeyī’s granting of the boon. As Sītā, protected yet as if unprotected, put on the bark garment, the people cried out in anguish, “Shame on you, Daśaratha!” The king, hearing their outcry, was deeply distressed, losing faith in life, virtue, and his own honor. With a deep sigh, Daśaratha spoke to Kaikeyī: “Sītā should not go wearing a garment of kuśa grass. She is delicate, young, and accustomed to comfort; my teacher has truly said she is not fit for the forest. This ascetic daughter of the best king does nothing for anyone; standing among the people dressed in 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, 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 Vaidehī 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? I have already promised, as you demanded, O queen, in the presence of all, when you 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: “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 Daśaratha heard Rama’s words and saw him dressed as an ascetic, he and his wife lost consciousness, overwhelmed by grief. The king did not look at Rāghava, nor speak to him, his mind overtaken by sorrow. For a moment, the great-armed king, overcome, lost awareness, lamenting and thinking only of Rama. He wondered, “Surely, I must have separated many calves from their mothers in the past, or harmed living beings; that is why this has come upon me. Yet, even though the time has not come, my life does not leave my body; though I am tormented by Kaikeyī, death does not come to me. I see my son before me, shining like fire, standing there, having set aside his fine garments and taken on the ascetic’s attire—all these people are distressed because of that one Kaikeyī, who, striving for her own gain, has resorted to this deceit.” Speaking thus, his senses overwhelmed by tears, the king could only utter “Rāma” once, unable to say more. After a moment, regaining consciousness, his eyes filled with tears, he spoke to Sumantra: “Harness the chariot, drawn by the finest horses, and bring it here; take this noble one far from the city into the countryside. Thus, I think, this is said to be the reward for virtue among the virtuous: that a noble hero is sent into exile in the forest by his own father and mother.” Hearing the king’s command, Sumantra, swift in action, yoked the chariot with adorned horses and went to Rama. Bowing with joined palms, he announced the chariot to the prince. The king, summoning someone occupied with managing wealth, spoke wisely, “Quickly bring for Vaidehī these excellent garments and great ornaments, counting out enough for the years ahead.” Thus addressed, the man went to the treasury, brought everything at once, and quickly gave it all to Sītā. That noble Vaidehī, adorned with those splendid ornaments, set out for the forest, beautifying her limbs. Thus beautifully adorned, Vaidehī made that house shine, like the sky illuminated at dawn by the rising sun.