Chasms there are and caverns, streams, rivers and rivulets, unapproachable and unfathomable, dreadful to behold. Bears and tigers, wolves, lions and elephants make such a roaring and howling that at the sound all fortitude melts away.

The ground will be your bed and the bark of trees your garb; your food will be wild bulbs, fruit and roots; nor think that even these will be always available all the year round. You will get everything according to its season.

There, too, walk men-eating demons of the night who assume a myriad deceptive forms. The water of the hills is exceedingly unwholesome; the hardships of forest life are indeed beyond all description

In the woods are terrible serpents and fierce wild birds and multitudes of demons who kidnap both men and women. The boldest shudder at the very thought of the forest; while you, my fawn-eyed wife, are timorous by nature.

You, lady of swan-like gait, are not fit for the woods; people will revile me when they hear of it. Can the swan that has been brought up in the ambrosial flood of the Manasa lake live in the salt sea?

Can the cuckoo that has made merry in a young mango grove take delight in a thicket of Karila bushes? Ponder this, my moon-faced bride, in your heart and stay at home; very great indeed are the hardships of the forest!

He who does not reverently accept the advice of such disinterested well-wishers as his guru and master has his fill or remorse and surely harms himself.’