Then, the auspicious and deep, sweet sounds of sacred chanting, accompanied by the harmonious music of instruments, filled the city of Ayodhyā. The news spread swiftly: Rāghava, together with Vaidehī, had completed their ritual fast. All the people of Ayodhyā rejoiced at this, their hearts swelling with happiness. As word of Rāma’s impending consecration reached every ear and the long night gave way to dawn, the townspeople eagerly set about adorning their beloved city. At the temples—gleaming like peaks of white clouds—at bustling crossroads, along the busy streets, at holy shrines, and on balconies overlooking the lanes, decorations sprang up. The shops of merchants, filled with all manner of goods, and the prosperous, splendid homes of householders were likewise festooned with color and joy. In every assembly hall and even on unmarked trees, the people raised flags high and hung banners that fluttered in the morning breeze. The air rang with words pleasing to both mind and ear, as troupes of actors, dancers, and singers performed, their voices and movements filling the city with delight. Everywhere, in the public squares and within their own homes, people spoke of nothing but Rāma’s consecration. Even the children, playing together in groups at their doorways, could talk of nothing else but Rāma’s coming anointing. The royal road was made splendid for the occasion, adorned with offerings of fresh flowers and perfumed with incense, lovingly 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, their gentle glow illuminating the city. Thus, with every corner decorated, the people of Ayodhyā, longing for Rāma’s installation as crown prince, waited in eager anticipation. They gathered in groups in the squares and assembly halls, speaking among themselves and praising the lord of the people. They said, “Ah, the great-souled king, the joy of the Ikṣvāku line, knowing himself to be aged, will anoint Rāma as king. Indeed, we are all blessed, for Rāma, who understands the ways of the world, will be our king and protector for a long time. Rāghava, whose mind is free from arrogance, learned, righteous, and loving toward his brothers, is as affectionate to us as he is to them. Long may the righteous and faultless King Daśaratha live, by whose favor we shall see Rāma anointed!” As the citizens spoke in this way, others who had heard the news from all directions began to arrive from the countryside. People flocked into Ayodhyā from every quarter, eager to witness Rāma’s anointing, so that soon the city was filled to overflowing. With crowds spreading everywhere, a great sound arose, like the roar of the ocean at the time of the full moon. Ayodhyā, resembling Indra’s own city, was thronged on all sides by eager country folk, resounding tumultuously and shining like the ocean filled with its waters. Now, let the seventh chapter be heard. A maidservant, born among Kaikeyī’s kin and long resident in her service, happened by chance to ascend a palace that shone like the moon. From there, Mantharā looked down upon Ayodhyā, whose royal roads had been sprinkled and strewn with lotuses and water-lilies. She saw the city adorned with splendid banners and flags, its streets sprinkled with sandalwood water, filled with people who had bathed their heads in celebration. The air resounded with the voices of distinguished Brāhmaṇas bearing garlands and sweets, the white temple doorways gleamed, and the music of every instrument filled the air. Joyful crowds moved through the city, the chanting of Brahmins rose above the din, and delighted, well-groomed elephants and horses paraded the streets, while excited bulls and cows bellowed in the festive commotion. Seeing Ayodhyā so beautifully adorned, its citizens elated and rejoicing, Mantharā was struck with the utmost astonishment. She wondered, “Absorbed in the highest joy and intent on gain, the mother of Rāma—what wealth is she distributing to the people? What is the reason for this extraordinary happiness? What will the delighted king do?” Overwhelmed with joy, the nurse—filled with great delight—told the hunchback Mantharā of the greater fortune coming to Rāghava: “Tomorrow, under the Pushya star, King Daśaratha will anoint Rāma, who has conquered anger and is faultless, as crown prince.” Hearing these words, Mantharā, quick to anger, descended from the palace, which shone like the peak of Mount Kailāsa. Burning with anger, perceiving only misfortune, Mantharā went to Kaikeyī, who was lying at ease, and spoke harshly: “Rise, fool! Why do you lie there? Danger is coming upon you. Overwhelmed by a flood of misfortune, you do not perceive yourself. Though you appear fortunate and boast of your good fortune, it is in what is undesirable; your fortune is unsteady, like the current of a river in the hot season.” Thus addressed with such harshness by the angry, ill-seeing hunchback, Kaikeyī fell into deep distress. She said gently, “Is all well, Mantharā? For I see you with a troubled face, greatly afflicted.” Hearing Kaikeyī’s gentle words, Mantharā, skilled in speech and filled with anger, replied. Becoming even more dejected, the hunchback, though professing concern for Kaikeyī’s welfare, spoke to her in a way meant to cause distress and to alienate her from Rāghava.