The kingdom was in turmoil. Vassal kings, each accompanied by their own armies, converged upon the capital, their minds set on hardship and strife. Every one of them, eager for conflict, remained wary of the others, for rivalry and suspicion filled the air. Among those who arrived were the Nishadas from Śṛṅgaverapura; having heard of the king’s death, they came with the intention of seizing the royal treasury. Word spread quickly that the king’s sons were but children and that discord was rampant among the factions. This news drew thieves from distant regions, each hoping to profit from the chaos. The city became a cauldron of tumult and strife as the situation erupted into open conflict. In the midst of this unrest, two mighty leaders—Yudhājit and Vīrasena—stood out, both burning with the desire for battle and locked in bitter rivalry. Amid these events, the journey toward the serene Bhāradvāja hermitage began. But on the battlefield, King Yudhājit, broad-shouldered and resolute, stood firm with his bow in hand. He was surrounded by his loyal forces, their vehicles, and attendants, all ready for combat. Opposite him stood Vīrasena, encircled by his own army, steadfast in his warrior’s duty and determined to protect his daughter’s son. His valor radiated like that of the lord of the gods. With wrath and true courage, Vīrasena unleashed a relentless shower of arrows upon Yudhājit, who stood his ground like a mountain lashed by torrential rain. Vīrasena’s swift, straight, and sharp arrows enveloped his foe, and with remarkable skill, he cut down the arrows Yudhājit fired, sending them tumbling to the earth. The battle that followed was immense and dreadful, involving elephants, chariots, and horses. The spectacle drew the gaze of gods, men, and sages alike. The sky filled with flocks of carnivorous birds, such as vultures, drawn by the scent of flesh. On the battlefield, a ghastly river of blood began to flow, carried along by the bodies of heroic elephants and horses. The sight of this river terrified the wicked, as if it were the sun’s own path, longed for by those who gazed upon it. Severed human heads, still covered with hair, were scattered along the broken riverbanks, shining like gourds floating on water, as though children had set them there in play, illuminated by the sun’s rays. In one place, a fallen hero lay upon the earth, his body tumbled from his chariot. A vulture circled above, eager for flesh, while the hero’s soul, seeing its beloved body, longed intensely to re-enter it, though powerless to do so. Even in death, the noble king, now riding a splendid celestial chariot, spoke to his beloved goddess seated on his lap: “Behold my body, O fair-armed one, struck by arrows and fallen to the earth.” Another, slain by his enemy, ascended alone to the sky, joined by a celestial maiden in a chariot. After offering his body to the fire, his beloved, accompanied by her attendants, took hold of him. Elsewhere, two valiant warriors, killed together by each other’s weapons, departed jointly to heaven. There, their quarrel continued fiercely, weapons flashing, until an apsaras intervened, agitated by their celestial strife. A certain youth, having attained a divine maiden of surpassing beauty and virtue, praised his own qualities to her and, united in yoga, engaged lovingly with her. The dust of battle spread far and wide, and darkness covered the sun. Suddenly, the dust turned into a sea of blood, and the sun shone forth with extraordinary brilliance. In the heavens, someone encountered a divine maiden, her face lovely and her heart devoted. Yet, fearing the loss of his vows, he did not embrace her, thinking, “Her kind words will go in vain for me.” Back on the battlefield, King Yudhājit struck down Vīrasena with fierce and terrible arrows. Slain, Vīrasena’s head was severed, and he fell to the earth. His entire force was shattered, scattering in all directions. Manorama, Vīrasena’s daughter, heard the dreadful news that her father had been killed in the thick of the fight. Terror seized her heart as she remembered her father’s enmity with Yudhājit. She thought, “Yudhājit, wicked in his intent, will surely kill my son out of greed for the kingdom.” Overwhelmed by anxiety, she asked herself in despair, “What shall I do? Where shall I go? My father has been slain in battle, my husband is dead, and my son is but a child.” She reflected bitterly, “Greed is exceedingly wicked—who is not ensnared by it? What evil would the best of kings not commit when possessed by greed? A person seized by desire kills father, mother, brothers, teachers, relatives, and friends without a second thought. Driven by desire, one eats what should not be eaten, goes where one should not go, and abandons righteousness.” She lamented her isolation: “I have no powerful ally in this city; as long as I remain here, I must protect my noble son. If the king kills my son today, what will I do then? I have no protector in the world who can keep me safe. Lilavati, ever hostile, will surely become my rival and will show no compassion to my son. If Yudhājit arrives, I will have no escape; knowing my son is a child, he will imprison him today.” Manorama’s mind raced with dreadful memories and fears: “It is said that once, in this very city, a king cut a child in his mother’s womb into seven pieces, and those seven became sevenfold. Entering the mother’s womb, he made a small blade in his hand, and thus forty-nine Maruts arose in heaven. Poison was given by a co-wife to the king’s wife, intending to destroy the fetus; I have heard this too happened here. Afterwards, the boy was born with poison in his body and became known as Sagara throughout the world. Even while her husband was alive, Kaikeyi, the king’s wife, caused Rama, the eldest, to be exiled, and King Dasharatha died.” She considered her son’s position: “The ministers are not independent; those who wish to make my son Sudarshana king are under Yudhājit’s control. My brother is not valiant enough to free me from captivity. By the force of fate, I have encountered great suffering.” Yet, despite her despair, Manorama resolved, “Nevertheless, effort must always be made, for success arises from destiny. Today, I will quickly devise a means to protect my son.” With this determination, she summoned Vidalla, a minister renowned for his pride, skill in all affairs, and keen intellect, to seek counsel and find a way to safeguard her child.