Bharata’s mother Kaikeyi had demanded that Rama be sent into exile and Sita forced to wear the garb of an ascetic. In the palace, King Dasharatha, tormented by grief, could not bear the cruelty of her demands. Addressing Kaikeyi in anguish, he said, “If Rama, O wicked one, has ever wronged you or acted improperly, what harm has this gentle and noble Vaidehi done to you? With eyes wide and startled like a deer, kind by nature and noble in mind, what fault can you find in Janaka’s daughter? Surely, sending Rama into exile is enough. Why do you pursue these further pitiful and sinful acts?” He reminded her, “I have already promised, as you demanded, before all, when you spoke about Rama’s consecration. Now, by going beyond that, you only bring ruin upon yourself, for you even wish to see Maithili dressed in bark-cloth.” As Dasharatha lamented thus, Rama, ready to depart for the forest, stood before his father with his head bowed and spoke gently, “This is my mother Kausalya—righteous, renowned, aged, and noble. She does not blame you, my lord. You, giver of boons, should honor her—now bereft of me, plunged into an ocean of grief she has never known. You must care for her so she does not perish from sorrow for her son; for thinking of me, that devoted woman will live only because of you. Support my mother, who is like Indra’s consort and now stricken with sorrow, so that while I dwell in the forest, she does not, worn down by grief, depart from this world.” Now, listen to the next chapter of this sacred Ramayana. When Dasharatha saw Rama clothed as an ascetic and heard his words, the king and his wife were overcome and lost consciousness. Tormented by grief, Dasharatha could not look upon Rama, nor could he speak to him, his mind overwhelmed by sorrow. For a moment, the great-armed king, overcome with lamentation, lost all awareness, thinking only of his beloved son. He thought, “Surely, in a past life, I must have separated many calves from their mothers, or harmed living beings; that is why I suffer so now. Yet, though my time has not come, my life does not leave my body; though tormented by Kaikeyi, death does not come to me. Here stands my son before me, shining like fire, having set aside his princely garments for the garb of an ascetic. All these people are distressed because of Kaikeyi alone, who, seeking her own gain, has stooped to this deceit.” Tears overwhelmed him, and he could only utter, “Rama!”—and no more. After a moment, regaining his senses, Dasharatha, his eyes filled with tears, spoke to Sumantra, the charioteer: “Harness the chariot, drawn by the finest horses, and bring it here. Take this noble one far from the city into the countryside. Such is the reward for virtue among the virtuous—a noble hero is sent into exile in the forest by his own father and mother.” Hearing his command, Sumantra swiftly yoked the adorned chariot with excellent horses and brought it forth. Bowing, he announced to Rama that the chariot was ready. The king, wise and pure in heart, then summoned the steward in charge of the treasury and instructed him, “Quickly bring for Vaidehi these excellent garments and fine ornaments, enough for the years ahead.” Obeying at once, the steward brought all that was needed and presented it to Sita. Adorned with splendid ornaments, noble Vaidehi prepared for her journey to the forest, her beauty radiant like the sky at dawn lit by the rising sun. As Sita stood ready, her mother-in-law Kausalya, weeping, embraced her with both arms, kissed her head, and spoke with sorrow: “In this world, women, though always honored by their loved ones, do not support their fallen husbands; they are unfaithful. Such is the nature of women: after enjoying happiness, at the slightest misfortune, they turn away even from their own. Women are ever untruthful, fickle, hard-hearted, and cruel; their minds are set on evil, and their affections last but a moment. Neither family, nor deeds, nor learning, nor gifts, nor even affection—nothing holds the hearts of women, for their hearts are inconstant. But for women steadfast in virtue, truth, and learning, the husband alone is the highest sanctity. You must not disregard your husband who has departed to the forest; whether he is wealthy or destitute, he remains your god among all.” Hearing these words, Sita, standing before her mother-in-law with joined palms, replied humbly, “Noble lady, I will do all that you instruct me. I know how a wife should conduct herself toward her husband, and I have heard it well. You should not try to persuade me otherwise; I am incapable of deviating from righteousness, just as light cannot depart from the moon. A lute cannot be played without strings, nor can a chariot move without wheels; even a woman with a hundred sons cannot find happiness without her husband.” Thus, with hearts full of sorrow and steadfast in their dharma, Rama and Sita prepared to depart into the forest, upholding righteousness above all.