As the assembly sat in council, the members, recognizing the chief priest’s stature and wisdom—equal to their own—rose together from their seats in honor of him. After receiving permission from his revered guru, King Daśaratha left the gathering of men and made his way toward the inner chambers of his palace, moving with the majesty of a lion entering the depths of a mountain cave. Within the palace, the king entered a world alive with beauty and grandeur: women adorned in splendid attire filled the halls, and the palace itself shone with such radiance that it resembled the very mansion of Indra. The king’s presence illuminated the scene, like the full moon rising among a sky of glittering stars. Meanwhile, after the chief priest had taken his leave, Rāma himself, having bathed and steadied his mind, approached the deity Nārāyaṇa, accompanied by his wide-eyed wife, Sītā. With devotion, Rāma held the sacred vessel of oblation in his hands and, following the prescribed rites, offered clarified butter into the blazing fire as an offering to the great deity. When the ritual was complete, he partook of the remainder of the oblation, seeking his own welfare, and sat in quiet meditation on Nārāyaṇa, seated upon a mat of sacred grass. As the night waned and only one watch remained, Rāma awoke and ensured that his house was thoroughly decorated according to custom. The early morning was filled with the melodious words of bards, genealogists, and panegyrists, whose praises he listened to as he performed his morning worship, reciting prayers with unwavering focus. He honored Madhusūdana with praise and bows, and, dressed in pure linen, had the Brāhmaṇas recite the Vedas. The city of Ayodhyā resounded with the auspicious, deep, and sweet chanting of the Brāhmaṇas, accompanied by the music of various instruments. News soon spread throughout Ayodhyā that Rāghava, together with Sītā, had completed their fast. Joy overflowed among the people. As the dawn broke and word of Rāma’s impending consecration spread, the citizens set about adorning the city. Temples gleaming like peaks of white clouds, crossroads, streets, shrines, and balconies were all festooned with decorations. Merchant shops, brimming with all manner of goods, and the prosperous homes of householders were made resplendent. In every assembly hall and even on unmarked trees, flags and banners were raised high. Actors, dancers, and singers performed, filling the air with delightful sounds that pleased both mind and ear. Everywhere—on the squares and within their homes—the people spoke only of Rāma’s consecration, their anticipation growing as the hour of his anointing approached. Even the children, playing in groups at their doorways, chattered excitedly about nothing but Rāma’s consecration. The royal road was made splendid, adorned with offerings of flowers and perfumed with incense, all prepared by the citizens for Rāma’s anointing. To dispel the darkness of night, lamp-bearing trees were set up along all the side streets, illuminating the city. Having thus decorated Ayodhyā, the people, hearts full of longing for Rāma’s installation as crown prince, waited in eager anticipation. Gathered together in the squares and assembly halls, groups of citizens praised Rāma, the beloved lord of the people. “How blessed we are,” they said, “that the great-souled king, the joy of the Ikṣvāku line, in his wisdom and recognizing his own age, will anoint Rāma as king. Rāma, who knows the ways of the world, will be our king and protector for a long time. He is learned, righteous, loving toward his brothers, and as affectionate to us as to them. Long may righteous, faultless King Daśaratha live, by whose favor we shall see Rāma anointed!” As these conversations filled the city, people from the countryside, having heard the joyous news, streamed into Ayodhyā from all directions, eager to witness Rāma’s consecration. The city swelled with crowds, their numbers spreading everywhere, and a great, jubilant sound arose—like the roar of the ocean at the time of the full moon. Thus, Ayodhyā, resembling Indra’s own abode, was thronged on all sides by eager country folk, resounding with joyous tumult and shining like the ocean filled with its waters. Meanwhile, in the palace, a maidservant named Mantharā, who had long lived with Queen Kaikeyī, happened by chance to ascend to a high chamber that gleamed like the moon. From this vantage point, she gazed down upon Ayodhyā and saw the royal roads sprinkled and strewn with lotuses and water-lilies. The city was adorned with splendid banners and flags, perfumed with sandalwood water, and filled with people who had bathed and dressed for celebration. The air was alive with the voices of distinguished Brāhmaṇas carrying garlands and sweets, the white doorways of temples gleaming, and the sounds of every kind of musical instrument. The city was crowded with joyful people, the chanting of Brahmins, delighted elephants and horses, and the bellowing of excited bulls and cows. Witnessing Ayodhyā so beautifully adorned, flags raised high, and its citizens elated and rejoicing, Mantharā was struck with utter astonishment. She wondered, “Absorbed in the highest joy and intent on gain, what wealth is Rāma’s mother distributing to the people? Tell me, what is the reason for this extraordinary happiness among the people? What will the delighted king do?