In the royal city of Ayodhyā, Rāma sat in the early morning, listening to the gentle praises of bards, genealogists, and panegyrists. Immersed in their pleasant words, he prepared for his morning worship, reciting sacred prayers with unwavering concentration. Draped in pure linen, Rāma bowed his head in reverence to Madhusūdana and invited the Brāhmaṇas to chant the Vedas. Their auspicious, deep, and melodious chanting, accompanied by the harmonious music of instruments, rose up and suffused the city, filling Ayodhyā with a sacred, joyful sound. News quickly spread that Rāghava—Rāma—along with Vaidehī, had completed their fast. The people of Ayodhyā rejoiced at this, their hearts swelling with happiness. As dawn broke and word of Rāma’s impending consecration reached every household, the townspeople set about adorning their beloved city. Temples gleamed like peaks of white clouds, and at crossroads, on streets, at shrines, and upon balconies, decorations began to appear. Merchant shops, brimming with goods, and the prosperous homes of householders shone with festivity. Assembly halls and even unmarked trees were draped in banners and flags fluttering high above. The air was filled with the pleasing sounds of actors, dancers, and singers performing for the crowds. Everywhere, in the bustling squares and within their homes, people spoke of nothing but Rāma’s consecration as the hour drew near. Even the children, playing in groups at their doorways, chattered excitedly about Rāma’s coming anointing. The citizens prepared the royal road, making it splendid with offerings of flowers and fragrant with incense for Rāma’s passage. To dispel the darkness, they set up lamp-bearing trees along every side street, illuminating the night with a gentle, golden glow. Having so beautifully decorated Ayodhyā, the people waited in eager anticipation for Rāma’s installation as crown prince. Gathering in groups in public squares and assembly halls, they praised the lord of the people, their voices filled with hope and admiration. They spoke among themselves: “Ah, our great-souled king, the joy of the Ikṣvāku line, knowing his age, will now anoint Rāma as king. How blessed we are that Rāma, wise in the ways of the world, will be our king and protector for many years. Rāghava, learned, righteous, loving toward his brothers, and free from pride, is as affectionate to us as he is to them. Long may righteous and faultless King Daśaratha live, for by his grace we shall witness Rāma’s consecration.” As the city buzzed with excitement, people from the countryside, having heard the news from all directions, began to arrive in great numbers, eager to witness Rāma’s anointing. The city filled with these visitors; crowds surged everywhere, and a mighty sound arose—like the roar of the ocean beneath the full moon. Ayodhyā, resembling Indra’s own city, shone resplendent, surrounded on all sides by throngs of joyful country folk, its tumultuous energy like the ocean brimming with its waters. Meanwhile, in the palace, a maidservant named Mantharā, who had long lived with Queen Kaikeyī, happened to ascend a palace that shone like the moon itself. From her high vantage, Mantharā gazed down upon Ayodhyā. She saw the royal roads, sprinkled and strewn with lotuses and water-lilies, the city adorned with splendid banners and flags, perfumed with sandalwood water, and bustling with people who had freshly bathed. The air resounded with the voices of Brāhmaṇas bearing garlands and sweets, white temple doorways gleamed, and the music of all manner of instruments filled the city. The streets were alive with joyful people, the chanting of Brahmins, splendid elephants and horses, and the bellowing of excited bulls and cows. Witnessing Ayodhyā so beautifully adorned, its citizens elated and rejoicing, Mantharā was struck with utter astonishment. Puzzled and agitated, she wondered aloud about the cause of such happiness: “Absorbed in joy and intent on gain, what wealth is Rāma’s mother distributing to the people?” she asked. “What is the reason for this extraordinary happiness? What will the delighted king do?” Overwhelmed with joy, the nurse, filled with delight, revealed to Mantharā the great fortune about to befall Rāghava: “Tomorrow, under the Pushya star, King Daśaratha will anoint Rāma, who has conquered anger and is faultless, as crown prince.” Hearing this, the hunchbacked Mantharā, quick to anger, descended from the palace, her heart burning with resentment. She approached Kaikeyī, who was lying at ease, and spoke sharply: “Rise, fool! Why do you lie there? Danger is upon you. Overwhelmed by a flood of misfortune, you do not perceive your own peril. Though you seem fortunate, you boast of your good fortune in what is truly undesirable; your fortune is as unsteady as a river’s current in the hot season.” Stung by these harsh words, Kaikeyī fell into deep distress. Seeing Mantharā’s troubled face and afflicted manner, Kaikeyī asked her, “Is all well, Mantharā? For I see you greatly troubled—tell me, what has happened?