With concern in his heart, the leader of the hermitage addressed Rāma. “O Rāma,” he said, “before those evil ones can bring harm to the ascetics, we must leave this hermitage behind. There is a beautiful forest not far from here, abundant with roots and fruits; I, along with my followers, will return to our old refuge there. Khara, too, has acted unjustly toward you in the past, dear one. If you wish, come with us from here. For one who is always anxious about his family’s safety, O Rāghava, even the capable would find it difficult to remain here today.” Rāma, the royal prince, wished to persuade the ascetic to stay with further words, but he could not restrain him. Having greeted, taken leave of, and reassured Rāma, the leader of the hermitage departed, leaving behind the hermitage with his community. Rāma, full of respect, followed the sage and his group for some distance, saluted the chief sage, and, with their approval and instructions, returned to his own blessed dwelling. Yet, Rāma did not leave the hermitage, even for a moment, though it was deserted by the sages; for the ascetics, steadfast in the ways of the seers, always followed Rāma. Thus concludes the one hundred sixteenth sarga of the glorious Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa in the ancient epic, the holy Rāmāyaṇa composed by Vālmīki. After the ascetics had departed, Rāghava reflected deeply and found, for many reasons, that the place was no longer suitable for dwelling. “Here,” he thought, “Bharata saw me, and my mothers, along with the people of the city; and my mind, remembering them, constantly grieves for them. Because the great-souled Bharata had set up his camp here, the ground is greatly trampled by the dung of horses and elephants.” Therefore, deciding it was best to go elsewhere, Rāghava set out, accompanied by Vaidehī and Lakṣmaṇa. He, famed throughout the land, reached the hermitage of the sage Atri and offered his respects. The venerable Atri received him as a son. Personally arranging all hospitality, Atri honored them well and kindly comforted both Saumitri and noble Sītā. Atri then addressed his aged wife, who had come to him, honoring and comforting her, being a knower of righteousness and devoted to the welfare of all beings. The eminent sage said to Vaidehī, “Receive Anasūyā, the highly fortunate ascetic, who follows the path of righteousness.” He spoke of that ascetic, devoted to righteousness, to Rāma as well. “When the world was scorched for ten years by drought without interruption, she produced roots and fruits and caused the Ganges to flow. Endowed with fierce austerity and adorned with disciplines, she performed great penance for ten thousand years. Anasūyā, purified by vows and having removed obstacles, hastened for the sake of the gods’ work and created a night lasting ten days; she is like a mother to you, O sinless one. Let Vaidehī approach this renowned woman, worthy of reverence by all beings, aged and always free from anger, known in the world as Anasūyā, who has gained fame through her deeds.” When the sage spoke thus, Rāghava replied, “So be it,” and then addressed Sītā, who knows righteousness, with these excellent words: “Princess, you have heard what this sage has spoken; for your own welfare, quickly approach the ascetic.” Sītā, hearing Rāghava’s words and wishing for her own good, approached the aged wife, who knew righteousness. She was frail, wrinkled, aged, her hair pale with old age, her body always trembling like a banana plant in the wind. Sītā, highly fortunate, greeted Anasūyā, devoted to her husband, without hesitation, and stated her own name. Vaidehī, having respectfully greeted the blameless ascetic, with hands joined in reverence and delight, inquired about her well-being. Seeing Sītā, the highly fortunate and righteous woman, Anasūyā spoke kindly, rejoicing, “By fortune you observe righteousness. O Sītā, having abandoned your kinsfolk, honor, and prosperity, you have followed Rāma, confined in the forest; by fortune you accompany him. Whether he dwells in the city or the forest, whether he is wicked or virtuous, for those women whose husband is dear, their worlds are greatly elevated. Whether he is of bad conduct, driven by desire, or deprived of wealth, for women of noble nature, the husband is the highest deity. I do not see any relative superior to the husband, O Vaidehī, considering carefully; everywhere he is suitable, like the inexhaustible fruit of austerity. But ignoble women do not discern virtue or fault in him; their hearts speak only desire, and they wander, dependent on their husband. Women of such a kind, O Maithili, who fall under the sway of improper conduct, indeed incur disgrace and a fall from righteousness. But women like you, endowed with virtues and understanding the ways of the world, will live according to their own nature, just as those who uphold righteousness. Therefore, you, steadfast in devotion, following the path of the faithful wives, be a companion in righteousness to your husband; from this you will attain both honor and virtue.” Thus ends the one hundred seventeenth sarga in the glorious Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa of the ancient and revered Rāmāyaṇa composed by Vālmīki. Thus addressed by Anasūyā, Vaidehī, free from envy, honored her words and began to speak gently. “It is not surprising, O noble lady, that you speak to me in this way; I too know that a husband is a woman’s highest reverence. Even if my husband were to be without good conduct, O noble one, still he must be served by me without deviation.