With Shri Rama, Sita lives happily, forgetting city, kin and home. She gazes at her beloved's moonlike face like a young chakori and rejoices in his growing love as the chakavi rejoices by day. Devoted to his feet, she finds the forest dearer than a thousand Avadhs. The leaf hut is dear, the deer and birds are her family, the munis and their wives are like parents-in-law, roots and fruit are nectar, and a grass mat beside her lord is sweeter than Kamadeva's couch. How could pleasures tempt her whose glance makes rulers of worlds? The doha: devotees drop such pleasures like straw by remembering Shri Rama; for Sita, mother of the world, it is no wonder.