In the twilight of his years, King Dasharatha, blessed with a long and fruitful life, found his thoughts turning ever more frequently to his beloved son, Rama. A question stirred within his heart: How might Rama be made king while I am still alive to witness it? This profound affection for Rama was a constant presence within him, and he longed for the day when he would see his cherished son anointed as ruler. Rama, after all, was a prince whose compassion embraced all beings, and whose concern was ever for the welfare of the world. So dear was he to the people—dearer even than Dasharatha himself, like the rain-bringing cloud that brings life and joy to the earth. In strength, Rama was the equal of mighty Yama and Indra; in wisdom, he matched Brihaspati, the preceptor of the gods; in steadfastness, he resembled the unshakable king of mountains; and in virtue, he even surpassed his own father. Dasharatha thought to himself that if he could see Rama ruling the entire earth during his own lifetime, it would be as if he had attained heaven itself. Rama possessed rare and immeasurable virtues, difficult to find even among other princes, and his qualities outshone those of the world. Seeing his son so richly endowed, the king, after careful consultation with his ministers, began to consider installing Rama as the crown prince. Yet, as he pondered this auspicious plan, Dasharatha became aware of ominous signs—dreadful omens that appeared in the sky, the air, and on the earth. He also noticed the unmistakable signs of old age in his own body. Nevertheless, he knew that Rama, whose radiant face was like the full moon and whose presence dispelled all sorrow, was beloved by all the people. For the welfare of both himself and his subjects, and recognizing that the time was right, the righteous king acted swiftly, moved by devotion and affection. He summoned the chiefs from various cities and regions across the land. When they arrived, Dasharatha, resplendent and adorned, welcomed them with proper honors and generous gifts, just as the lord of creatures himself would greet his subjects. In his haste, however, the king did not summon the ruler of Kekaya or King Janaka, for he knew they would hear the joyous news in due course. Once Dasharatha, the subduer of enemy cities, had taken his seat, the remaining renowned kings entered the assembly. The king distributed seats to all, and the assembled rulers, observing proper decorum, sat facing him. Surrounded by honored and disciplined kings, as well as citizens from the city and countryside, Dasharatha shone among them like the thousand-eyed Indra amidst the immortals. Now begins the second sarga. Listen. With the entire assembly gathered before him, the lord of the earth addressed them with words that were both well-known and filled with benefit and upliftment. His voice, full of feeling and marked by royal grace and unmatched dignity, addressed the assembled rulers: “You all know how this excellent kingdom has been protected by my royal ancestors, as one would protect a beloved son. I, too, wish to dedicate this entire world—so well-governed by the kings of the Ikṣvāku line—to the highest good and happiness. Following the path set by my forefathers, I have always watched over my people to the best of my ability, ever vigilant and sleepless in my duty. “Yet, while pursuing the welfare of the world, I have grown old beneath the white royal umbrella. Having lived for many thousands of years, my body is now worn and weary. The burden of righteousness, though fitting for kings, is heavy and hard to bear for one who has not mastered his senses. Therefore, desiring rest, I wish to install my son for the welfare of the people, after consulting with all these eminent Brahmins gathered here. “For my son, who surpasses me in every virtue, has been born: Rama, the conqueror of enemy cities, equal to Indra in strength. Joined with the constellation Puṣya, like the moon itself, foremost upholder of righteousness and best among men, I shall appoint him as crown prince tomorrow morning. He, the elder brother of Lakshmana, adorned with every fortune, is a fitting lord for you all—under his rule, even the three worlds would be well protected. “By this excellent act, I shall unite the earth with prosperity and, having entrusted it to my son, I shall be free from toil. If this plan of mine, well considered and fitting, pleases you, let it be approved by you all. Or, if you see another beneficial course, tell me how else I should act. Even though this is my desire, let us consider together any other good path—impartial deliberation in discussion brings forth greater clarity.” As the king finished speaking, the assembled kings responded with joy, their voices rising like the calls of peacocks to a rain-laden cloud. A gentle, approving sound, filled with happiness, echoed among the multitude, making the very earth seem to tremble. Understanding the king’s intent, the Brahmins, chiefs of the army, citizens, and country folk, having gathered with unified minds, spoke thoughtfully to the aged Dasharatha: “O king, you are advanced in years, having passed many thousands of years; therefore, anoint Rama as crown prince, O ruler of the earth. We long to see the mighty-armed, heroic, and powerful Rama, riding a great elephant, his face shaded by the royal parasol.” Hearing these words, which were pleasing to their hearts, Dasharatha, wishing to know their minds more fully, spoke again: “Hearing your statement, that you desire Raghava as your lord, I, the king, have this doubt within me; therefore, I ask you to speak the truth about it.