Kaikeyī, surrounded by loyal friends and steadfast supporters, sat secure, believing that her son would be safe and that the king would have nothing to fear when the time came. Yet Mantharā, the hunchback, urged her to restrain and turn back the king from his resolve to anoint Rāma, warning Kaikeyī that she had been led to accept misfortune disguised as fortune. Delighted and convinced by Mantharā’s words, Kaikeyī spoke to her, for the hunchback had swayed her heart like a young girl easily led astray. Astonished by Mantharā’s insight and surpassing beauty, Kaikeyī assured her, “I do not disregard your wisdom, you who speak what is best among the best.” She praised Mantharā, declaring her supreme in discernment among all hunchbacks on earth, and alone devoted to Kaikeyī’s welfare. Kaikeyī confessed that she could not have understood the king’s intentions without Mantharā’s guidance, for there are hunchbacks who are ill-disposed and exceedingly wicked. But Mantharā was lovely to behold, bent gracefully like a lotus by the wind, her chest rising firmly from her shoulders, her calm belly modest like a well-formed navel, her hips full and her breasts beautifully rounded. Kaikeyī admired Mantharā’s pure face, shining like the spotless moon, her polished hips adorned with a jeweled girdle, her well-set thighs and long, extended feet, and her graceful form clad in fine linen. Kaikeyī remarked that when Mantharā walked before her, she shone with beauty, as if the thousand magical arts once possessed by Shambara, lord of the asuras, had entered Mantharā’s heart, along with thousands more. Her back, long and curved like a chariot’s yoke, seemed to hold wisdom, knowledge of statecraft, and magical arts. Kaikeyī promised Mantharā a golden garland, and declared that when Bharata was anointed king and Rāghava had gone to the forest, she would anoint Mantharā with pure, well-refined gold, smear her back with gold, and place a beautiful jeweled tilaka upon her face. Splendid ornaments would be made for Mantharā, who would move about dressed in fine garments like a goddess, her face shining like the moon, her beauty incomparable, walking with a noble gait that would make rivals envious. Other hunchbacks, adorned with all ornaments, would serve at Mantharā’s feet, just as she always served Kaikeyī. Thus praised, Kaikeyī spoke these words to Mantharā as she lay on a pure couch, radiant like a flame upon the altar. She declared, “When the water is gone, a bridge is useless, O blessed one. Arise, do what is auspicious, and seek out the king.” Encouraged, the queen, her eyes wide and unspoiled by pride, went with Mantharā to the chamber of anger. There, Kaikeyī, noble and worthy of the finest, took off her hundreds of thousands of pearl necklaces and splendid ornaments. Golden-hued and under the sway of Mantharā’s words, she 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.” Mantharā, bold in speech, 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 and struck again and again by Mantharā’s sharp words, Kaikeyī, placing her hands on her heart in great astonishment, angrily reproached Mantharā repeatedly. She declared, “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 was covered by the darkness of rising anger, and adorned with the finest garlands and jewels now cast off, the king’s wife became despondent, like the sky veiled in darkness with its stars obscured. Now begins the tenth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Kaikeyī, harshly reproached by the sinful hunchback, lay on the ground like a celestial nymph struck down by poison. Having firmly decided in her mind what must be done, the radiant queen slowly revealed everything to Mantharā, with discernment. Distressed and determined, bewildered by Mantharā’s words, Kaikeyī sighed long and hot, like a serpent maiden. For a moment she pondered a course that would bring her happiness, and, being devoted to her friend and her own interests, she made her decision after hearing Mantharā’s counsel. Mantharā became exceedingly pleased, as if her aim had been achieved. The queen, now angered, made her resolve firm. Weak and dejected, she lay down on the ground, her brows furrowed. Her splendid garlands and divine ornaments, cast off by Kaikeyī, fell to the ground; those garlands and ornaments were thrown down by her.