When Mantharā, filled with satisfaction at her own words, spoke to Queen Kaikeyī, the queen responded not with concern but with praise for Rāma’s many virtues. She spoke warmly of Rāma, the king’s eldest son, describing him as righteous, virtuous, self-controlled, grateful, truthful, and pure—truly deserving of the succession. Kaikeyī reassured Mantharā, saying that Rāma, blessed with long life, would protect his brothers and servants like a father. “Why, O hunchback,” she asked gently, “are you troubled at the news of Rāma’s consecration?” Kaikeyī continued, confident in the future, saying that after a hundred years, Bharata too—her own son, the best of men—would inherit the kingdom from Rāma, as was proper. With happiness and prosperity at hand, she wondered aloud why Mantharā was so agitated and distressed by such good fortune. She explained that just as Bharata was honored, so too was Rāma, even more so, and that Rāma, besides serving his own mother Kausalyā, served Kaikeyī herself with great devotion. “If the kingdom is Rāma’s,” she said, “it is also Bharata’s, for Rāma regards his brothers as himself.” But Mantharā, hearing these words, became deeply distressed. She sighed heavily, her breath hot with agitation, and addressed Kaikeyī with harsh urgency. She accused the queen of foolishness, saying Kaikeyī did not see the disaster before her, nor recognize her own peril, as she sank into a sea of sorrow and calamity. Mantharā warned that Rāma would become king, and after him, his own son would rule—leaving Bharata cast aside from the royal line. She explained that not all the king’s sons could remain in the kingdom; if all were installed, disorder would follow. Thus, kings always entrusted the kingdom to the eldest, even if the others were virtuous. Bharata, she insisted, would be left broken, deprived of comforts and royal status, like an orphan. Mantharā reminded Kaikeyī that she had come for her sake, and deserved a reward for increasing her advantage over her co-wife. Mantharā pressed her warning further: once Rāma possessed the unchallenged kingdom, he would send Bharata away to a distant land—or worse. She recalled that Bharata had not been kept near his maternal uncle in childhood, missing the closeness that breeds affection, even among the immovable. Because of this, Shatrughna had become just like Bharata, just as Lakṣmaṇa followed Rāma, so Shatrughna followed Bharata. She used a vivid image: a tree, meant to be cut down by forest dwellers, is first stripped of its branches by arrows out of fear, simply due to its nearness. Rāma, she said, would surely protect Lakṣmaṇa, for their brotherhood was famed in the world, like that of the twin Aśvins. Thus, Rāma would never harm Lakṣmaṇa, but he might indeed harm Bharata—of this, Mantharā had no doubt. Therefore, she advised, Rāma must be sent away to the forest from the royal palace; this, she claimed, would be most beneficial for Kaikeyī and her family. Only if Bharata obtained the ancestral kingdom in accordance with righteousness would their welfare be secured. She warned that Bharata, accustomed to comfort, would become a natural enemy to Rāma; how could he, deprived of prosperity, live under the control of one who had everything? Mantharā likened the situation to a leader of elephants chased by a lion in the forest, urging Kaikeyī to protect Bharata, who was overshadowed by Rāma. She reminded Kaikeyī of past pride, when she had rejected Rāma’s mother, Kausalyā—how could Kausalyā not harbor enmity now? If Rāma gained the earth, adorned with treasures and mountains, Kaikeyī and her sorrowful son would suffer misfortune and defeat. Mantharā concluded with a final warning: if Rāma gained the earth, Bharata would be lost. Kaikeyī must consider the kingdom for her own son and find reason for the exile of the other. Thus, the conversation moved to its next chapter. Stirred by Mantharā’s words, Kaikeyī’s face blazed with anger. She exhaled a long, heated breath and declared with resolve that she would send Rāma to the forest that very day, and swiftly anoint Bharata as heir-apparent. She pressed Mantharā to consider how this could be accomplished, so that Bharata alone would possess the kingdom, and Rāma would not, by any means. Mantharā, intent on her own dark designs, responded eagerly. She urged Kaikeyī to listen carefully, for she would reveal a way for Bharata to obtain the kingdom. She questioned why Kaikeyī did not remember, or perhaps concealed, something of great importance to her own interest. If Kaikeyī wished to hear, Mantharā would explain, and the queen should act accordingly. Heeding these words, Kaikeyī rose a little from her well-spread bed and asked Mantharā to speak. Thus addressed, Mantharā, intent on harming Rāma, began her tale. She reminded Kaikeyī of a time long ago, during the war between the gods and demons, when Kaikeyī’s husband, King Daśaratha, with the royal sages, took her with him to aid the lord of the gods. Kaikeyī accompanied him southward, toward Daṇḍaka, to the city called Vaijayantam, where the banner of the shark was raised. There, a great demon named Śambara, master of a hundred magical illusions, fought Indra in battle, undefeated by the hosts of gods.