Manthara, the hunchbacked maid, spoke urgently to Queen Kaikeyī, reminding her of the two boons King Daśaratha had promised her long ago, during the great battle between gods and demons. “O noble lady,” Manthara said, “remind the king of those boons. His promise must not be broken.” She advised Kaikeyī to wait for the right moment—when Rāma himself would come to raise her up and Daśaratha would be present—then to ask for her boon. “Let Rāma be exiled for fourteen years—nine and five—and let Bharata be made king upon the earth, O bull among kings,” Manthara urged. She explained that while Rāma dwelled in the forest for those fourteen years, Kaikeyī’s son Bharata would grow strong, take root, and become established. Manthara pressed Kaikeyī to request this boon: Rāma’s exile. “Thus all your son’s desires will be fulfilled, O desirous one,” she promised. With Rāma sent away, Manthara said, he would no longer be Rāma in the eyes of the people, and Bharata, free from enemies, would become king for Kaikeyī. By the time Rāma returned, Bharata would be firmly rooted—secure both within himself and in the kingdom. Manthara painted a vivid picture: Bharata would be gathered with friends, self-possessed, and surrounded by loyal men, and the king would be without fear when the time came. She urged Kaikeyī to restrain Daśaratha from his resolve to anoint Rāma, warning that Kaikeyī had been led to accept misfortune disguised as fortune. Delighted and convinced, Kaikeyī spoke warmly to Manthara, for the hunchback’s words had swayed her heart like a young girl’s. Kaikeyī, astonished and radiant, praised Manthara’s wisdom: “I do not disregard your counsel, you who speak what is best among the best. Among all hunchbacks on earth, you are supreme in discernment; you alone are ever devoted and well-wishing towards my interests.” Kaikeyī admitted she could not have understood the king’s intentions without Manthara’s guidance, for there were hunchbacks who were ill-disposed and exceedingly wicked. But Manthara, Kaikeyī said, was lovely to behold, bent like a lotus by the wind, with a chest rising from her shoulders, a calm and modest belly, full hips, and beautifully rounded breasts. Her face shone pure as the moon, adorned with a jeweled girdle. Her thighs were well-set, her feet long and extended, and she walked gracefully in fine linen. Kaikeyī continued her praise: “When you walk before me, O exceedingly lovely one, you shine; the thousand magical arts that were with Shambara, lord of asuras, have entered your heart, and thousands more besides. That very back, long and curved like a chariot’s yoke, is yours. Wisdom, knowledge of statecraft, and magical arts all dwell in you; here, O hunchback, I will bestow upon you a golden garland.” She promised Manthara: “When Bharata is anointed and Rāghava has gone to the forest, O beautiful one, I will anoint you with pure, well-refined gold. When you have achieved your desire and are delighted, I will smear your back with gold, and on your face, a beautiful jeweled tilaka. I will have splendid ornaments made for you, O hunchback; dressed in fine garments, you will move about like a goddess. With a face shining like the moon and incomparable beauty, you will walk with a noble gait, making your rivals envious. Other hunchbacks, adorned with all ornaments, will serve at your feet, just as you always serve at mine.” Thus praised, Manthara urged Kaikeyī, as she lay on a pure couch like a flame upon the altar: “When the water is gone, a bridge is useless, O blessed one; arise, do what is auspicious, and seek out the king.” Encouraged, Kaikeyī, her eyes wide and unspoiled by pride in her good fortune, went with Manthara to the chamber of anger. There, the noble lady removed her hundreds of thousands of pearl necklaces and splendid ornaments. Golden-hued and under the sway of Manthara’s words, Kaikeyī sat down on the ground and spoke: “Here, O hunchback, you may report to the king that I am dead; but when Rāghava goes to the forest, Bharata will obtain the kingdom. I have no desire for gold, nor for jewels, nor for food and drink; this is the end of my life if Rāma is anointed.” Manthara, bold and persistent, addressed the queen again, offering both helpful and harmful advice concerning Rāma: “If Rāghava surely attains this kingdom, then you and your son will suffer; therefore, O noble lady, strive so that your son Bharata will be anointed.” Deeply wounded by Manthara’s sharp words, Kaikeyī placed her hands on her heart in astonishment and angrily reproached the hunchback again and again. “When I have gone from here to the realm of Yama, you will report it, O hunchback; or, when Rāghava has gone to the forest for a long time, Bharata, his desires fulfilled, will prosper. I do not desire bedding, nor garlands, nor sandalwood, nor ointments, nor food or drink; I wish for nothing here, not even life itself, if Rāghava does not go to the forest from here.” Having spoken these most dreadful words, the radiant queen set aside all her ornaments and lay down upon the bare ground, as if a celestial nymph had fallen. Her face, darkened by rising anger, was now bereft of its usual adornments, and she became despondent, like the sky veiled in darkness with its stars obscured. Thus concludes the ninth sarga. Listen now to the tenth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa.