If you keep me at Ayodhya till the end of your exile, know well that my life will not endure, O friend of the afflicted, fair bestower of bliss, storehouse of amiability and affection!

As I walk along the road, I shall know no fatigue, while every moment I behold your lotus feet. In every way I shall serve my lord and relieve him of all the toil occasioned by the journey.

Seated in the shade of some tree, I shall lave your feet and rapturously fan you; gazing on your swarthy form beaded with sweat and casting a look on the lord of my life, can I have leisure enough to grieve?

Spreading grass and the leaves of trees on an even patch of ground, this handmaid of yours will press and rub your feet the whole night through, and while I gaze on your gracious form again and again, hot winds will have no effect on me.

Who can dare look at me when I am with my lord, any more than a hare or a jackal would regard a lioness? Am I delicate and my lord fit for the forest? Does it behove you to undergo penance and me to live in luxury?

If my heart refuses to be rent even on hearing such cruel words, then, lord, my wretched self shall live to endure the terrible pain of separation?

So saying, Sita was overwhelmed with distress; she could not bear the mere word ‘separation.’ Seeing her condition, Raghunatha was convinced that if left behind against her will, she would die.