As Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita respectfully touched the feet of the eminent sage Sutīkṣṇa, he gently raised them up, embraced them with warmth and affection, and spoke kindly to them. “Go safely on your path, Rama,” he said, “together with Saumitri and with Sita, who follows you like a shadow.” He urged them to behold the delightful hermitages of the ascetics dwelling in the Dandaka forest, whose souls were purified by austerity. “You will see forests abundant with excellent fruits and roots, blossoming trees, herds of noble deer, and flocks of peaceful birds. There are ponds and lakes with blooming clusters of lotuses, clear waters, and flocks of waterfowl scattered about. You will find charming sights—mountain streams and lovely forests resounding with the cries of peacocks. Go, child; Saumitri, you too should proceed. After seeing all this, you must return again to the hermitage.” Receiving these words, Rama and Lakshmana, descendants of the Kakutstha line, replied, “So be it,” and, circling the sage in reverence, prepared to depart. Sita, whose eyes were wide and beautiful, handed the two brothers their splendid quivers and bows, as well as their shining swords. Fastening their fine quivers and taking up their bows with a resounding noise, Rama and Lakshmana left the hermitage, ready to begin their journey. Swiftly, permitted by the great sage, the two brothers—handsome and noble—set out, bearing bows and swords, with Sita accompanying them. Let the ninth chapter be heard. Having received Sutīkṣṇa’s permission, Rama, the descendant of Raghu, departed. Sita, with heartfelt and affectionate words, spoke to her husband. She reflected, “Indeed, by very subtle means, great unrighteousness can arise; and by withdrawal, one can escape from misfortune born of desire and similar flaws. There are three misfortunes arising from desire, but false speech is the greatest; the other two are heavier because of it.” Sita continued, “Without enmity or cruelty, approaching another’s wife and false speech—these have never occurred in you, nor will they, O Rāghava. How could there be desire for other women, which destroys righteousness? You have never had this, O king among men, nor has it ever arisen in you. Even in your mind, O Rama, such a thought does not exist anywhere; you are always devoted to your own wife, O prince. Righteous, truthful, and obedient to your father’s command; in you, both righteousness and truth are firmly established. All this, O mighty-armed one, can be borne by those who have conquered their senses; I know your self-control, O one of auspicious appearance.” She reminded him, “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 with your brother, carrying bow and arrows. Yet, seeing you depart, my mind became troubled with anxiety; thinking of your departure, I ponder what would be truly beneficial. I do not find pleasure, O hero, in your journey to Dandaka; I will tell you the reason—listen to what I say. You, holding bow and arrows, have gone to the forest with your brother; seeing all the forest-dwellers, may you not use your arrows against them.” Sita explained, “For Kshatriyas, the bow is like fuel for the fire; when 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 deer and birds. To hinder his austerity, Indra, lord of Śacī, came to his hermitage, taking the form of a warrior and carrying a sword. There, in that hermitage, the excellent sword was placed; it was given according to the rule of deposit, while the ascetic remained engaged in holy austerity. Having obtained that weapon, he became intent on guarding the deposit; while wandering in the forest, he protected it, trusting in himself. Wherever he went to gather roots and fruits, he never went without that sword, being intent on guarding the deposit. Always carrying the weapon, that ascetic gradually developed a fierce disposition, abandoning his resolve for austerity. Then, indulging in violence, careless and led astray by unrighteousness, the sage, through association with that weapon, went to hell.” She concluded, “Thus, this is what happened before—the cause for the use of weapons; just as with fire, so too is the use of weapons considered to have a cause. Out of affection and great respect, I remind and instruct you: you must never act thus while bearing a bow. To kill the Rākṣasas dwelling in Daṇḍaka without enmity or fault, O hero, the world will not approve. For Kṣatriya heroes, self-controlled in the forest, this alone is the duty with the bow: to protect the afflicted. Where is the weapon, and where is the forest? Where is the Kṣatriya’s duty, and where is asceticism? This is all mixed up by us; let the law of the land be honored. A mean and impure mind arises from the practice of weapons; when you return to Ayodhyā, you will again follow the Kṣatriya’s duty. Endless affection would exist between my mother-in-law and father-in-law and me, if you, having renounced the kingdom, were devoted as a sage.” Thus, Sita spoke to Rama with loving concern, reminding him of the importance of righteousness, self-control, and the true duty of a Kshatriya in the forest.