Kaikeyī, astonished and radiant in her surpassing beauty, addressed Manthara, the hunchback, with words of gratitude and admiration. “I do not disregard your wisdom, you who speak what is best among the best,” she said, acknowledging Manthara’s discerning counsel. Among all hunchbacks on earth, Kaikeyī declared, Manthara was supreme in discernment and alone ever devoted and well-wishing toward Kaikeyī’s interests. She confessed that, without Manthara’s insight, she could not have understood the king’s intentions, for there were many hunchbacks who were ill-disposed, crooked, and exceedingly wicked. Kaikeyī then praised Manthara’s appearance, describing her as lovely to behold, bent like a lotus swayed by the wind. Manthara’s chest rose firmly from her shoulders, her calm belly was modest like a well-formed navel, her hips full, and her breasts beautifully rounded. Her face was pure as the spotless moon, shining brightly, and her polished hips were adorned with a jeweled girdle. Kaikeyī admired Manthara’s well-set thighs and long, graceful feet, noting how she shone when walking before her, clad in fine linen. Kaikeyī went on to say that the thousand magical arts once possessed by Shambara, the lord of the asuras, had found their way into Manthara’s heart, along with thousands more. Her back, long and curved like a chariot’s yoke, was remarkable. Wisdom, knowledge of statecraft, and magical arts all dwelled within Manthara, and Kaikeyī promised to bestow upon her a golden garland. She vowed that when Bharata was anointed as king and Rāghava had gone to the forest, she would anoint Manthara with pure, well-refined gold. Once Manthara had achieved her desire and was delighted, Kaikeyī would smear her back with gold and mark her face with a beautiful jeweled tilaka. Splendid ornaments would be made for her, and dressed in fine garments, she would move about like a goddess. With a face shining like the moon and incomparable beauty, Manthara would walk with a noble gait, making her rivals envious. Other hunchbacks, adorned with all ornaments, would serve at her feet, just as she had always served Kaikeyī. Thus praised, Kaikeyī spoke these words to Manthara as she lay on a pure couch, like a flame upon the altar. She urged Manthara, “When the water is gone, a bridge is useless, O blessed one; arise, do what is auspicious, and seek out the king.” Encouraged by these words, the queen, her eyes wide and unspoiled by pride in her good fortune, went with Manthara to the chamber of anger. There, the noble lady Kaikeyī, worthy of the finest, removed her many 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 to Manthara: “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 in her speech, again addressed the queen, speaking 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, placing her hands on her heart in great astonishment, angrily reproached the hunchback again and again. 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 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, 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, listen to the tenth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. When the queen was harshly reproached by the sinful hunchback, she 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 Manthara, with discernment. Distressed and determined, bewildered by Manthara’s words, the radiant queen 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 Manthara’s counsel. Manthara became exceedingly pleased, as if her aim had been achieved; then the queen, now angered, made her resolve firm. She, weak and dejected, lay down on the ground, her brows furrowed; her splendid garlands and divine ornaments, cast off by Kaikeyī, fell to the ground. She lay fallen in the chamber of anger, her garments soiled, making the earth appear unsightly, just as stars do to the sky. Her hair was bound in a single, tight braid, like a kinnari bereft of life; meanwhile, the great king had already ordered Rāghava’s consecration. The self-controlled king, worthy of bringing joy to the beloved, entered the inner apartments; the illustrious one entered Kaikeyī’s finest chamber.