A few days before Rama went to the garden, he had ordered his officers to go around the city at night and listen to what the people said about him. After several days, the officers returned and said, “We have visited every house and found that all your subjects speak well of you—except one washerman named Rajaka, who spoke ill of you.”

They continued, “One day this Rajaka quarreled with his wife and struck her. She fled to her parents’ house. Her father later brought her back and requested Rajaka to take her in again. But the washerman said, ‘I will never admit her into my house. I am not that Rama who shamelessly accepted Sita back, though she lived under Ravana’s roof for years. I am a pure washerman — I cleanse the filth of others’ garments. Do you think I will take back your unclean daughter? Take her away, for I will not see her face again.’”

Hearing this report, Rama was deeply grieved. He called Lakshman and said, “You see, my brother, though Sita is pure and blameless, this wicked washerman has defamed me because I took her back. I cannot bear this dishonor. You must take Sita to the distant forest and leave her there alone. Return as soon as you have done so.”

Lakshman was struck with sorrow and replied, “My brother, you should not take to heart the words of such ignorant men. There are many wicked tongues in this world. The wise should not heed them. Let them say what they will. Why trouble yourself for that fool? I shall cut off his tongue!”

“What you say is true,” Rama answered, “but if you harm him, people will accuse us of cruelty. It is better that Sita be sent away quietly, so that no one may speak ill of us.”

Lakshman hesitated. Rama, seeing his reluctance, said, “If you do not obey me, I shall end my life here.” Seeing Rama resolute, Lakshman rose and went to Sita’s chamber. Sita received him kindly and made him sit beside her. Lakshman said softly, “Rama has asked me to take you to the forest. Please prepare yourself and come with me.” Sita smiled and said, “Has Rama told you to take me to the forest? Ah, how fortunate I am! Some days ago, when he asked me what I desired, I said I wished to spend a few days in the forest eating roots and fruits and sleeping on the grass. Perhaps he remembers my wish. Let us go — I am ready.”

Hearing her innocent words, Lakshman’s eyes filled with tears. He placed her in a chariot and drove toward the river Janavi. Along the way, Sita noticed inauspicious omens and asked, “Lakshman, what do these portents mean?” But he, overwhelmed with grief, remained silent. They crossed the river in a boat and came to a desolate forest, inhabited only by lions, serpents, and tigers. Sita asked, “Where are the hermitages of the Rishis?”

Still silent, Lakshman gathered grass, made a small bed, and seated her upon it. Then he fell at her feet and, weeping bitterly, said, “Mother, Rama has commanded that you be left here. I have only obeyed his word.”At these words, Sita fainted. Lakshman prayed to the goddess of the forest and all its creatures to protect her, and then, heartbroken, departed for Ayodhya.

When he had gone a little way, Sita regained consciousness and cried out in anguish, “Lakshman! Please return and take me back. Why do you leave me here, though I have done no wrong? Kill me instead and tell Rama you have obeyed his command. Why leave me to perish in this dreadful forest?” Her cries were so pitiful that even the trees and stones seemed to weep for her. Lakshman returned to Ayodhya and told Rama all that had happened. Meanwhile, Sita wandered barefoot through the wild forest. She had no shelter and often fainted from weariness. She thought,

“It is useless to live any longer. I should end my life — yet I cannot, for if I die, I will kill the innocent child within me.” Thus she restrained herself and endured. In time, the sage Valmiki, hearing her cries, came to her and said, “Who are you, and what has brought you here?” “I am Sita,” she replied, “daughter of Janaka and wife of Rama. Without fault, I have been left alone in this terrible forest. I know no one here. I implore you — be my father.”

Valmiki said gently, “My name is Valmiki. Rama knows me well, and your father Janaka is my friend. I look upon you as my daughter. Two sons will be born to you — they will be more powerful than their father and will avenge the wrong done to you.” Valmiki led Sita to his hermitage. The other Rishis, seeing her, asked, “Who is this woman?”“This is Sita,” replied Valmiki. Some Rishis said, “You will bring misfortune upon yourself by sheltering her.” One among them said, “If she is truly Sita, let her prove it. Tell her to summon the river to this place.”

Sita prayed to the river, and the river instantly flowed to where she stood. Seeing this, the Rishis were awestruck and begged her forgiveness. Then Sita prayed again, and the river returned to its course.

|| OM SAI SHRI SAI JAI JAI SAI || 

|| SHRI SATCHIDANANDA SADGURU SAINATH MAHARAJ KI JAI ||

Note(s): This narration is based on Ramavijaya: The Mythological History of Rama (Bombay, 1891, Dubhashi & Co.), a public domain text shared here for free reading.

This episode is from the Uttarakanda, traditionally considered an appendix to Valmiki’s Ramayana and included in Marathi Ramavijaya. It reflects the social tension between raja-dharma (public duty) and stri-dharma (marital and moral purity). Historically and in classical commentaries, Rama’s decision is seen not as personal doubt but as sacrifice of personal happiness for public righteousness, though modern readings view it as tragic patriarchal injustice.