Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, having been graciously received and honored by the sage Sutikṣṇa, spent the night in his hermitage. At dawn, Rāma rose at the proper hour, accompanied by Sītā, and performed his morning purification with cool, lotus-scented water. In that tranquil forest, a haven for ascetics, Sītā, Rāma, and Lakṣmaṇa reverently worshipped the sacred fire and the deities as the day broke. With the first rays of the rising sun dispelling all darkness and sin, the three approached Sutikṣṇa and addressed him with gentle words: “O revered one, you have honored us with your hospitality and veneration. We are grateful for your kindness, but now we must take our leave, for the sages urge us onward.” Rāma continued, “We are eager to visit all the hermitages of those sages of pure conduct who dwell throughout the Dandaka forest. We seek your permission to depart, along with these foremost sages, steadfast in righteousness and blazing with the power of their austerity.” Having expressed their wish to depart, Rāma, together with Lakṣmaṇa and Sītā, bowed low at the sage’s feet. Sutikṣṇa, moved by affection, raised them up, embraced them warmly, and blessed them, saying, “Go safely on your path, Rāma, with Saumitri and with Sītā, who follows you like a shadow. Behold the delightful hermitages of the ascetics who dwell in the Dandaka forest, their souls purified by austerity. You will see forests abundant with excellent fruits and roots, blossoming trees, herds of noble deer, and flocks of gentle birds. Ponds and lakes filled with blooming lotuses, clear waters, and graceful waterfowl will greet your eyes. You will witness charming sights—mountain streams, lovely forests alive with the cries of peacocks. Go, my child, and you too, Saumitri. After you have seen all this, return again to my hermitage.” Thus addressed, Rāma, the descendant of Kakutstha, together with Lakṣmaṇa, replied, “So be it.” They reverently circled the sage and prepared to depart. Sītā, her eyes wide and bright, handed the two brothers their splendid quivers and bows, along with their shining swords. Fastening their fine quivers and taking up their bows with a resounding twang, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, permitted by the great sage, set out swiftly from the hermitage, bearing their weapons and accompanied by Sītā. Now, let the next part of the story be heard. Having received Sutikṣṇa’s blessing, Rāma, the scion of Raghu, departed. As they journeyed, Sītā spoke to her husband with heartfelt and affectionate words: “By subtle means, great unrighteousness can be attained; but by withdrawal and restraint, one can escape misfortune born of desire and the like. Of the three misfortunes arising from desire, false speech is the greatest, and the others are made heavier by it. Yet, O Rāghava, you have never approached another’s wife, nor spoken falsely, nor acted with enmity or cruelty—these have never occurred in you, nor will they. How could there be desire for other women, which destroys righteousness? Such a thought has never arisen in you, O king among men. Even in your mind, O Rāma, there is no such inclination; you are always devoted to your own wife. Righteous, truthful, and obedient to your father’s command—righteousness and truth are firmly established in you. All this, O mighty-armed one, can be borne only by those who have conquered their senses. I know your self-control, O one of auspicious appearance. You have pledged, O hero, to protect the sages dwelling in the Dandaka forest and to destroy the demons in battle. For this reason, you are renowned as having departed for the Dandaka forest, together with your brother, carrying bow and arrows. Yet, seeing you depart, my mind became troubled with anxiety. Thinking of your journey, I ponder what would be truly beneficial. I do not find joy, O hero, in your journey to Dandaka; let me tell you why—please listen. You, holding bow and arrows, have gone to the forest with your brother. When you see all the forest-dwellers, may you not use your arrows against them. For Kshatriyas, the bow is like fuel for the fire; when it is close at hand, their power and energy rise greatly. Once, O mighty-armed one, there was a virtuous, truthful, and pure ascetic who lived in a holy forest, delighting in the company of deer and birds. To hinder his austerity, Indra, the lord of Śacī, came to his hermitage, taking the form of a warrior and carrying a sword. In that hermitage, the excellent sword was entrusted to the ascetic, given as a deposit while he remained engaged in holy austerity. Having obtained that weapon, the ascetic became intent on guarding it. Wherever he went to gather roots and fruits, he never left the sword behind, always mindful of his trust. Yet, always carrying the weapon, the ascetic gradually developed a fierce disposition, and in time, he abandoned his resolve for austerity.