As darkness descended upon Ayodhyā, the citizens, eager to dispel the night’s gloom, set up lamp-bearing trees along every side street, filling the city with light. The city was decorated in anticipation, for all its inhabitants longed for Rāma’s installation as crown prince and waited with hearts full of hope. Gathered together in groups within the squares and assembly halls, the people spoke among themselves, praising their lord. They said, “Ah, the great-souled king, the joy of the Ikṣvāku lineage, knowing his age, will anoint Rāma as king. Indeed, we are all blessed, for Rāma, who understands the ways of the world, will be our protector for a long time. Rāghava’s mind is free from arrogance; he is learned, righteous, and loving toward his brothers, as affectionate to us as he is to them. Long may the faultless King Daśaratha live, for by his favor we shall see Rāma anointed.” As the citizens spoke in this way, others, having heard the news from all directions, began to arrive from the countryside. People streamed in from every quarter, drawn by the prospect of witnessing Rāma’s anointing, and soon the city was filled to overflowing. With the crowds spreading everywhere, a mighty sound arose, like the roaring of the ocean at the time of the full moon. Ayodhyā, resembling Indra’s own abode and thronged on all sides by eager country folk, resounded tumultuously and shone like the ocean brimming with its waters. Let the seventh chapter be heard. A maidservant, born among Kaikeyī’s relatives and long accustomed to her company, happened by chance to ascend a palace that shone like the moon. From its heights, 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, and filled with people whose heads had been bathed. The air resounded with the voices of distinguished Brāhmaṇas bearing garlands and sweets, with white temple doorways, and the sound of every musical instrument. The city was filled with joyful people, the chanting of Brahmins, delighted and splendid elephants and horses, and the bellowing of excited bulls and cows. Observing Ayodhyā so beautifully adorned, its citizens elated and rejoicing, Mantharā was struck with utmost astonishment. Absorbed in the highest joy and intent on gain, Rāma’s mother—what wealth is she distributing to the people? Mantharā wondered. “Tell me, what is the reason for this extraordinary happiness among the people? What will the delighted king do?” she asked. Overwhelmed with joy, the nurse, filled with great delight, replied to the hunchback, revealing 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 the nurse’s words, Mantharā, quickly angered, descended from the palace, which was like the peak of Mount Kailāsa. Burning with anger, perceiving only evil, Mantharā spoke these words to Kaikeyī as she lay there: “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, you boast of your good fortune in what is undesirable; your fortune is unsteady, like the current of a river in the hot season.” Thus addressed with harsh words by the angry, evil-seeing hunchback, Kaikeyī fell into deep distress. She said to Mantharā, “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, wishing her well yet intent on causing distress and alienating her from Rāghava, spoke: “O queen, a great and unending calamity has begun for you: King Daśaratha will anoint Rāma as crown prince. I am plunged in deep fear, filled with sorrow and grief, burning as if by fire, and have come here for your welfare. Kaikeyī, your sorrow will be my great sorrow; your decline will be my decline, and your prosperity will be my prosperity—of this there is no doubt. “Born in a royal family, you are the chief queen of the king; how is it, O queen, that you do not understand the severity of royal duties? Your husband, though he speaks of righteousness, is deceitful; his words are gentle, but his nature is harsh. You, with your pure heart, trust him, and thus you have been thoroughly deceived. Now he approaches you with empty consolations, but in truth, today your husband will unite Kausalyā with prosperity. That wicked-hearted man, having removed Bharata from among your kin, will soon install Rāma in the kingdom, with all obstacles destroyed. “An enemy, under the guise of a husband, and a mother who claims to wish well, is like a venomous serpent embraced by a child—so have you been held. Just as an enemy or a neglected serpent would act, so today King Daśaratha has treated you and your son. O naive one, accustomed always to comfort, you have been destroyed along with your kin by the sinful one who, with false soothing words, is placing Rāma on the throne.