Manthara, the hunchbacked maid, was deeply troubled and her heart was heavy with dejection. Wishing to rouse concern in Queen Kaikeyi and turn her away from Rama, she approached the queen with words meant to unsettle her and create a rift between her and Rama, the son of Dasharatha. She began, “O queen, a great and unending calamity has begun for you: King Dasharatha is about to anoint Rama as the crown prince. This news has plunged me into deep fear and sorrow—I am burning as if by fire. I have come here only for your welfare. Your sorrow is my sorrow, your decline is my decline, and your prosperity is my prosperity—of this you can be certain.” Manthara continued, “You were born in a royal family and are chief among the king’s wives—how is it that you do not see the gravity of royal affairs? Your husband, though he speaks of righteousness, is deceitful; his words are gentle, but his nature is harsh. With your pure heart, you trust him, and thus you have been completely deceived. Now he comes to you with empty consolations, but in truth, today your husband will unite Kausalya with prosperity.” Her words grew sharper. “That wicked-hearted man, having separated Bharata from your kin, will soon install Rama in the kingdom, with all obstacles removed. An enemy disguised as a husband, and a mother who claims to wish you 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 Dasharatha has treated you and your son. O naive one, accustomed to comfort, you and your kin are being destroyed by the sinful one who, with false soothing words, is placing Rama on the throne.” Manthara urged Kaikeyi, “Therefore, act quickly for your own good at this opportune time; save your son, yourself, and me, who am witnessing this with astonishment.” But on hearing Manthara’s words, the beautiful-faced Kaikeyi rose from her bed, filled with joy, shining like the crescent moon in autumn. Overjoyed and full of wonder, she gave Manthara a splendid divine ornament as a reward for what she thought was wonderful news. Having done so, Kaikeyi, delighted, spoke again to Manthara: “This most pleasing news you have brought me, Manthara, is truly dear to me. Tell me what more I can do for you, since you have brought me such happiness. 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.” But Manthara, envious and agitated, cast aside the ornament. Filled with anger and sorrow, she replied, “Why have you, foolish one, rejoiced without cause? Do you not realize that you are in the midst of an ocean of sorrow? Though I am overwhelmed by grief, I restrain myself for your sake, O queen. Why are you joyful when you should be mourning, having encountered such great misfortune?” She lamented further, “I grieve for your lack of understanding. What wise woman would rejoice at the rise of a rival wife’s son, as if death itself had come? It is out of fear for Rama, not just for Bharata, regarding the sharing of the kingdom; having considered this, I am distressed, for fear arises from one who is afraid. For mighty-armed Lakshmana is wholly devoted to Rama, and likewise, Shatrughna is to Bharata as Lakshmana is to the scion of Kakutstha. Even though, O beautiful one, the succession should have come to Bharata by order of proximity, the royal succession has been given to those two who are younger.” Manthara pressed on, “Indeed, fortunate is Kausalya, whose son will be consecrated tomorrow to the great office of crown prince, under the Pushya constellation, by the foremost of Brahmanas. When the earth, filled with joy and confidence, is won and enemies are subdued, you will attend upon Kausalya with joined palms, like a servant. Thus, together with us, you will become her attendant, and your son will become a servant to Rama. Surely, Rama’s chief wives will be delighted, while your daughters-in-law will not rejoice at Bharata’s decline.” Despite Manthara’s persistent warnings, Queen Kaikeyi, filled with satisfaction, praised only Rama’s virtues. “Rama, the eldest son of the king, knows righteousness, is virtuous, self-controlled, grateful, truthful, and pure; therefore, he deserves the succession. He, long-lived, will protect his brothers and servants like a father; so why, O hunchback, are you troubled upon hearing of Rama’s consecration? And surely, after a hundred years, Bharata too, the best of men, will obtain the kingdom of his father and grandfather from Rama. So, when prosperity has come and happiness is at hand, why, Manthara, do you burn within and grieve at this good fortune? Just as Bharata is honored, so too is Raghava even more; besides Kausalya, he serves me greatly. If the kingdom is Rama’s, it is also Bharata’s; for Raghava regards his brothers as himself.” Hearing Kaikeyi’s words, Manthara, deeply distressed, sighed long and hot, and spoke again: “Because of your foolishness, you do not see misfortune, nor do you understand yourself, sinking in a sea of sorrow and calamity. Raghava will become king, and his son after him; but Bharata, O Kaikeyi, will be cast aside from the royal line.” Thus, the seeds of doubt and distress were sown in Kaikeyi’s heart as Manthara pressed her to see danger where she had seen only joy, setting the stage for the fateful events to come.