As the news of Rama’s impending coronation spread throughout Ayodhya, the city blossomed into a spectacle of joy and festivity. Country folk streamed in from every direction, eager to witness the great event, and the city, radiant and bustling, shone like Indra’s celestial abode. The streets echoed with tumultuous celebration and glimmered like the vast ocean filled with its waters. Let us now hear the events of the seventh chapter. Among the palace attendants was Manthara, a maidservant born among Kaikeyi’s relatives, who had long served the queen. By chance, Manthara ascended to a palace that gleamed with the brilliance of the moon. From this lofty vantage, she gazed down upon Ayodhya. The royal roads below were freshly sprinkled, adorned with lotuses and water-lilies, and the city itself was festooned with splendid banners and flags, its air fragrant with sandalwood water. Everywhere, people had bathed and dressed in their finest, their faces glowing with happiness. The city resounded with the voices of eminent Brahmins, who carried garlands and sweets. Temple doorways gleamed white, and the music of countless instruments filled the air. Joyful crowds mingled, their chants blending with the delighted trumpeting of elephants, neighing of horses, and the bellowing of excited bulls and cows. Ayodhya, adorned with raised banners and teeming with elated citizens, astonished Manthara, who could not help but marvel at the sight. Absorbed in the highest joy and intent on gain, Rama’s mother, Kausalya, was distributing wealth to the people. Manthara wondered aloud, “What is the cause of this extraordinary happiness among the people? What will the delighted king do?” Overwhelmed with delight, Rama’s nurse explained to Manthara the fortune soon to befall Raghava: “Tomorrow, under the auspicious Pushya star, King Dasharatha will anoint Rama—who has conquered anger and is faultless—as crown prince.” Hearing this news, Manthara, quick to anger, descended from the palace, which shone like the peak of Mount Kailasa. Burning with indignation, she sought out Kaikeyi, who was resting, and spoke sharply: “Rise, fool! Why do you lie here? Danger is upon you. Overwhelmed by a flood of misfortune, you do not perceive your own plight. Though you seem fortunate, you boast of good fortune in what is undesirable. Your luck is as unsteady as a river’s current in the hot season.” Stung by Manthara’s harsh words, Kaikeyi fell into deep distress and asked, “Is all well, Manthara? I see you troubled, greatly afflicted.” Manthara, skilled in speech but filled with anger, replied, her tone heavy with concern. Wishing ill for Rama and seeking to unsettle Kaikeyi, she continued, “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 I have come for your welfare. Your sorrow is mine, your decline will be mine, and your prosperity also—this is certain.” She pressed further: “You, born in a royal family and chief queen, 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 have been thoroughly deceived. Now he offers you empty consolations, but in truth, he brings prosperity to Kausalya. That wicked-hearted man, having removed Bharata from your kin, will soon install Rama in the kingdom, with all obstacles destroyed.” Manthara’s words grew more venomous: “An enemy disguised as a husband, and a mother claiming good wishes, is like a venomous serpent embraced by a child—so have you been held. Just as an enemy or 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, beautiful-faced and filled with joy, rose from her bed, radiant like the crescent moon in autumn. Pleased and filled with wonder, Kaikeyi gave Manthara a splendid divine ornament. Having gifted the ornament, Kaikeyi, delighted, spoke again: “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. 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 hear the eighth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Ayodhyā section. But Manthara, envious and angry, cast aside the ornament. Filled with sorrow and wrath, she spoke: “Why have you, foolish one, rejoiced without cause? Do you not realize that you are in the midst of an ocean of sorrow?” Thus, the stage was set for the unfolding of events that would change the fortunes of Ayodhya and its royal family.