As crowds gathered and spread throughout the city, a tremendous sound arose—like the mighty roar of the ocean during the full moon. Ayodhya, shining with splendor and resembling Indra’s own celestial abode, was surrounded on all sides by eager villagers. The city resounded with joyous tumult and glistened like a vast ocean brimming with its waters. Let us now hear the seventh chapter. Within the palace, a maidservant named Manthara, who had long served Kaikeyi and was born among her relatives, happened by chance to ascend a palace that gleamed like the moon. From her lofty vantage, Manthara gazed down upon Ayodhya, whose royal roads had been sprinkled and adorned with lotuses and water-lilies. The city was decked with splendid banners and flags, its streets scented with sandalwood water, and filled with people whose heads bore the freshness of ritual bathing. Ayodhya resounded with the voices of distinguished Brahmanas holding garlands and sweets; its temple doorways shone white, and the air was alive with the music of every instrument. The city overflowed with joyous citizens, their happiness echoed in the chanting of Brahmins, and elephants and horses paraded in delight, while excited bulls and cows bellowed. Seeing Ayodhya so adorned, banners raised high and its people elated, Manthara was struck with utter astonishment. Absorbed in delight and seeking gain, the mother of Rama was distributing wealth among the people. Manthara wondered aloud, “Tell me, what is the cause of this extraordinary happiness among the people? What will the delighted king do?” Overwhelmed with joy, the nurse, full of great delight, revealed to Manthara the greater fortune coming to Raghava: “Tomorrow, under the Pushya star, King Dasharatha will anoint Rama—who has conquered anger and is faultless—as crown prince.” Hearing this, Manthara, quick to anger, descended from the palace, which shone like the peak of Mount Kailasa. Burning with fury and perceiving evil, Manthara spoke to Kaikeyi 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 your own plight. 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.” Addressed so harshly by the angry, evil-seeing hunchback, Kaikeyi fell into deep distress and asked, “Is all well, Manthara? For I see you troubled and greatly afflicted.” Hearing Kaikeyi’s gentle words, Manthara, skilled in speech and still filled with anger, replied, growing even more dejected. Wishing Kaikeyi well, yet intent on causing distress and alienating her from Raghava, Manthara said, “O queen, a great and unending calamity has begun for you: King Dasharatha will anoint Rama 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. Kaikeyi, your sorrow will be my sorrow; your decline will be my decline, and your prosperity will be my prosperity—of this there is no doubt.” She continued, “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 Kausalya with prosperity. That wicked-hearted man, having removed Bharata from among your kin, will soon install Rama 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 Dasharatha 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 Rama on the throne. Therefore, Kaikeyi, act quickly for your own good at this opportune time; save your son, yourself, and me, who am witnessing this with astonishment.” Hearing Manthara’s words, Kaikeyi—her face radiant—rose from her bed, filled with joy like the crescent moon in autumn. Exceedingly pleased and filled with wonder, she gave Manthara a splendid divine ornament. Having bestowed the ornament, Kaikeyi, delighted, spoke again to Manthara: “This most pleasing news you have told me, Manthara, is truly dear to me. Tell me what more I can do for you, since you have brought me such joy. I see no difference between Rama and Bharata; therefore, I am pleased that the king will anoint Rama as heir to the throne. There is no greater boon for me than this. You, who are worthy of affection, have spoken sweet and delightful words, like nectar. Since you have spoken thus, I grant you the highest and best boon—choose what you desire.” Now let us listen to the eighth chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Ayodhyā section. But Manthara, envious, cast aside the ornament and, filled with anger and sorrow, spoke further.