Sita's Second Exile - The Moment Rama Broke

Rama: "Take her to the forest. Leave her near Valmiki's ashram. Don't tell her why."

Lakshmana stared at his brother. The king's face was stone—but his hands shook.

Lakshmana: "You can't be serious."

Rama: "I am completely serious."

Lakshmana: "Sita is pregnant! With your children! She passed the fire trial! She's—"

Rama: "I know what she is. I know what she passed. I know she's innocent. And I'm still ordering this."

Lakshmana: "Why?"

Rama: "Because a washerwoman questioned her purity. Because a drunk told his wife 'I'm not like Rama—I won't take back a woman who lived with another man.' Because the streets whisper, and the whispers reach the palace."

Lakshmana: "So you'll exile your innocent wife because of gossip?"

Rama: "I'll exile my innocent wife because I'm not just a husband. I'm a king. A king whose wife is doubted cannot rule effectively. A king who ignores his subjects' concerns—even their ignorant, cruel concerns—loses their respect."

Rama: "Choose differently. Choose to stand by her. Let the people see that truth matters more than gossip."

Lakshmana: "I tried that. After the fire trial. 'Now you've all seen her purity,' I said. 'Now you know.' And they nodded and seemed to accept. But gossip doesn't need truth. It needs repetition. Year after year, the questions come back. 'Didn't she live with Ravana?' 'Isn't that suspicious?' 'Would you take back a wife who—'"

Rama: "Let them talk!"

Lakshmana: "I can't! Because if they doubt her, they doubt me! They doubt my judgment! They doubt whether I make decisions based on wisdom or on attachment! A king who is seen as controlled by his wife—"

Rama: "So you'll be controlled by the mob instead?"

Rama: "The mob is the kingdom, Lakshmana. Their voice is what I'm sworn to hear. I don't expect you to understand. I don't understand it myself. All I know is that choosing her means losing them. And I can't choose myself over the kingdom I swore to serve."

Rama: "She'll hate you."

Lakshmana: "She should. I hate myself. But I'll hate myself as a good king. As someone who put duty over desire. As someone who broke his own heart so the kingdom could beat on."

Rama: "History will judge you."

Lakshmana: "History always judges. But history won't have to govern tomorrow. History won't have to hold together a kingdom that's fracturing over gossip. History gets to have principles; I have to have results."

Lakshmana took the order. He didn't understand it—would never understand it—but he obeyed.

That night, Sita was led into the forest. She didn't scream. She didn't beg. She walked with the dignity of someone who had always known this might happen.

And Rama—alone in a palace that suddenly felt like a prison—

Wept until morning.

Then washed his face.

And governed.

Because that's what kings did.

That's what they had to do.

Even when it destroyed them.