With Kausalya’s heartfelt permission and her blessings fortified by rituals and prayers, Rama, filled with renewed resolve, departed for Sita’s abode. Though his mother’s sorrow lingered in his mind, he transformed it into faith and hope, lightening his spirit for the higher cause ahead.
Meanwhile, Sita, unaware of these somber developments, was fasting in joyful anticipation of Rama’s coronation, eagerly awaiting his return. When Rama entered her chamber with his head bowed and a touch of shyness, Sita immediately noticed his burdened demeanor and swollen eyes. Folding her hands in mild tremor, she gazed at him in silence, her concern evident.
Unable to contain his sorrow, Rama finally spoke, his voice laden with grief. “Sita, why does your face look so pale? You informed the scholars of the coronation, yet your lotus-like eyes are swollen, and your face appears as a half-moon waning. Where are the sages, the hymns, the holy curd, honey, and turmeric for the ceremonial rites? Why is your forehead unadorned with sandalwood tilak? You seem to sense my turmoil even as my mind carries a heavy burden.”
Gathering his composure, Rama continued, “Sita, my father, the righteous king, is bound by his word. Long ago, he granted Kaikeyi two boons. At the moment of my coronation, she claimed them. One boon decreed my exile to the forest for fourteen years, and the other bestowed the throne upon Bharata. Now, I must leave for the desolate wilderness. I have come to bid you farewell.
“You were born of a noble lineage, Sita, and you understand dharma. I ask of you: do not speak of me in Bharata’s presence, for those immersed in newfound prosperity often dismiss the merits of others. Serve Bharata loyally, as he now inherits the kingdom by my father’s decree. Protect yourself by winning his goodwill, and heed my father’s commands.
“As for me, I shall reside in the forest among ascetics, living an austere life. Perform your rituals and fast on designated days. Take care of my mother, Kausalya, who is aged and stricken with grief. Serve her with respect and devotion. Treat all mothers as equal to me, for they are sacred. Kings are pleased by those who attend to them with care, and they discard even their own if shown neglect. Abide by tradition, Sita, and remain here until I return. I leave now for the forest. Stay back and harm no one.”
Sita, her voice trembling with anger veiled in affection, responded, “O Prince, your words mock my devotion. Does a wife not follow her husband in joy and sorrow alike? Bound by the deeds of past lives, we all must bear our destinies, yet a wife’s dharma binds her to her husband above all. Rama, I will accompany you to the forest. I shall walk ahead, clearing the path of thorns. Forgive my defiance, but I am bound by the laws of Sruti and Smriti to be at your side.
“Life with you in the wilderness is far sweeter to me than a life of luxury in the palace. In your presence, I shall endure the hardships of the forest with joy, cherishing the beauty of nature and its mysteries. I long to see the rivers teeming with swans and to bathe in lotus-filled lakes. Even heaven holds no allure without you. Do not deny me this right, my lord. Take me with you, for I will never be a burden.
“I am ready to live on roots and fruits, to share your trials, and to delight in the serenity of caves and forests. Let us wander together, hand in hand, for countless years. Honor my plea, Rama, for my heart knows no peace apart from you.”
Though Sita’s impassioned words moved Rama deeply, his sense of responsibility held firm. He tried to dissuade her, painting vivid pictures of the dangers that awaited in the forest. Yet destiny, grand and inexorable, loomed above mortal reasoning. Sita’s sincere and steadfast devotion chipped away at Rama’s resolve.
Caught between love and fear, duty and possibility, Rama wrestled with the dilemma before him. Responsibility clashed with affection, strength with weakness, and the predictable with the unknown. Each factor rose and fell like waves in his mind. The weight of the decision rested heavily upon him.
And so, the story of fate’s unfolding began to take shape. What choice would Rama make? Let us see what destiny has in store.