The venerable King Daśaratha, the great-souled scion and joy of the Ikṣvāku dynasty, fully aware of his advancing age, resolved to anoint his beloved son Rāma as the next king. The people of Ayodhyā, hearing this news, felt themselves truly blessed. For Rāma, who had witnessed the ways of the world and understood its duties, would soon become their sovereign and protector, promising stability and righteousness for years to come. Rāghava, as Rāma was also known, was admired by all for his humility, learning, and virtue. He loved his brothers deeply and showed the same affection to the citizens of Ayodhyā, winning their hearts with his gentle and righteous ways. The people prayed that the righteous and faultless King Daśaratha might live long, for through his favor, they would soon witness Rāma’s auspicious anointing. As the citizens rejoiced and voiced their happiness, word of the coming event spread swiftly. People from the countryside, upon hearing the news, flocked to the city from every direction, eager to witness the sacred ceremony. The city filled with crowds, their numbers swelling everywhere, and the sounds of their excitement rose like the mighty roar of the ocean at the full moon. Ayodhyā shone with splendor, resembling Indra’s own celestial city, surrounded on all sides by eager villagers. The tumult of joyous voices and the vibrant energy made the city gleam, like the ocean at its fullest. Let the next part of the tale be heard. Within the palace, a maidservant named Mantharā, who had long lived among Queen Kaikeyī’s relatives, happened to ascend a palace that shone like the moon itself. From this lofty vantage, Mantharā gazed down upon Ayodhyā. She saw the royal roads sprinkled with water and strewn with lotuses and water-lilies, the city adorned with splendid banners and flags, its streets perfumed with sandalwood water, and its people with freshly bathed heads. The air resounded with the voices of distinguished Brāhmaṇas carrying garlands and sweets. The white doorways of temples gleamed, and every corner rang with the music of instruments. Joyful people filled the streets, and the chanting of Brahmins mingled with the trumpeting of delighted elephants, the neighing of splendid horses, and the bellowing of excited bulls and cows. Mantharā, beholding Ayodhyā so beautifully adorned with banners and filled with elated citizens, was struck with astonishment. She wondered at the cause of such joy and prosperity: “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?” Soon, a nurse, overwhelmed with joy and delight, revealed to Mantharā the great fortune that was to befall 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 in haste from the palace, which shone like the peak of Mount Kailāsa. Burning with anger and perceiving danger, she approached Queen Kaikeyī, who was resting peacefully, and spoke sharply: “Rise, fool! Why do you lie there, unaware of the danger approaching you? Overwhelmed by a flood of misfortune, you do not perceive your own peril. Though you appear fortunate, you boast of your good fortune in what is undesirable; your fortune is as unsteady as a river’s current in the hot season.” These harsh words from the angry, sharp-eyed Mantharā plunged Kaikeyī into distress. The queen, troubled, asked gently, “Is all well, Mantharā? I see you with a troubled face, greatly afflicted.” Hearing Kaikeyī’s gentle words, Mantharā, skilled in speech and filled with anger, replied, her own sorrow deepening. Wishing to drive a wedge between Kaikeyī and Rāghava, she said, “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 I have come here for your welfare. Your sorrow will be my sorrow; your decline, my decline; your prosperity, my prosperity—of this, there is no doubt.” Mantharā continued, “You, born in a royal family and chief among the king’s queens, 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. With your pure heart, you have trusted him, and thus you have been deceived. Now he approaches you with empty consolations, but in truth, today he unites Kausalyā with prosperity. That wicked-hearted man, having removed Bharata from your kin, will soon install Rāma in the kingdom, all obstacles removed. An enemy in the guise of a husband, and a mother who claims to wish well, are like venomous serpents 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 and your kin have been destroyed by the sinful one who, with false soothing words, is placing Rāma on the throne. Therefore, Kaikeyī, act quickly for your own good at this opportune time; save your son, yourself, and me, who am witnessing this with astonishment.” Hearing these words, the beautiful-faced Kaikeyī rose from her bed, filled with joy like the crescent moon of autumn. Pleased and filled with wonder at the news, she rewarded Mantharā with a splendid divine ornament, honoring the messenger of what she believed to be her good fortune.