Kaikeyi, reclining on her pure couch, listened as Manthara, her trusted attendant, stood before her. Kaikeyi gazed upon Manthara’s face, radiant and pure as the spotless moon, and admired her gleaming presence. Manthara’s hips, polished and adorned with a jeweled girdle, caught the queen’s eye. Her thighs were well-formed, her feet long and graceful, and she moved with elegance, wrapped in fine linen. As Manthara walked ahead, her beauty shone forth, and Kaikeyi, enchanted, likened her poise to the magical arts once possessed by Shambara, lord of the asuras. Those very arts, and countless more, seemed to dwell within Manthara’s heart. Her back, long and curved like a chariot’s yoke, added to her unique bearing. Kaikeyi praised Manthara for her wisdom, her knowledge of statecraft, and her mastery of magical arts. “O hunchback,” Kaikeyi promised, “I shall bestow upon you a golden garland. When Bharata is anointed and Rāghava departs to the forest, I will bathe you in pure, refined gold. Your back shall be anointed with gold, your face adorned with a beautiful jeweled tilaka. Splendid ornaments will be made for you, and dressed in the finest garments, you will move about like a goddess. With a moon-bright face and incomparable beauty, you will walk with noble grace, making your rivals burn with envy. Other hunchbacks, adorned with all ornaments, will serve at your feet, just as you serve at mine.” Thus did Kaikeyi lavish praise upon Manthara, as she lay upon her pure couch, glowing like a sacred flame upon the altar. But then, with a note of urgency, Kaikeyi continued, “When water is gone, a bridge is useless. Arise, blessed one—do what is auspicious and seek out the king.” Encouraged by Manthara’s words, the queen, her eyes wide and unspoiled by pride in her fortune, rose and, together with Manthara, made her way to the chamber of anger. There, Kaikeyi, noble and worthy of the finest, removed her hundreds of thousands of pearl necklaces and her splendid ornaments. Golden-hued and under Manthara’s sway, she sat down upon the ground and addressed her attendant, “Here, O hunchback, you may tell the king that I am dead. Yet, when Rāghava goes to the forest, Bharata will obtain the kingdom. I desire neither gold, nor jewels, nor food or drink—this is the end of my life if Rāma is anointed.” Manthara, emboldened, addressed the queen again with bold words—words both helpful and harmful—advising Bharata’s mother about Rāma. “If Rāghava surely attains the kingdom, 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 Manthara’s sharp words, Kaikeyi pressed her hands to her heart in astonishment and anger, reproaching the hunchback repeatedly. “When I have gone to Yama’s realm, you may report it, O hunchback. Or, when Rāghava has gone to the forest for a long time, Bharata, his desires fulfilled, will prosper. I desire no bedding, no garlands, no sandalwood, no ointments, nor food or drink—I wish for nothing here, not even life itself, if Rāghava does not go to the forest.” Having spoken these dreadful words, the radiant queen cast aside all her ornaments and lay down upon the bare ground, like a celestial nymph fallen from the heavens. Her face, darkened by rising anger, once adorned with the finest garlands and jewels now discarded, became despondent—like the sky veiled in darkness with its stars obscured. Now, listen to the tenth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. After being harshly reproached by the sinful hunchback, the queen lay on the ground like a celestial nymph struck down by poison. Yet, firm in her mind about what must be done, she revealed her intentions 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, devoted to her friend and her own interests, she made her decision after hearing Manthara’s counsel. Manthara was 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, 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, bound in a single tight braid, made her look like a kinnari bereft of life. Meanwhile, the great king had already ordered Rāghava’s consecration. The self-controlled and illustrious king, eager to bring joy to his beloved, entered the inner apartments, stepping into Kaikeyi’s finest chamber. The chamber was like the sky with pale clouds, the moon seized by Rāhu, filled with the cries of peacocks and barhin birds, and resounding with cranes and swans. The music of instruments echoed within, the halls filled with hunchbacked and dwarf maidservants, adorned with bowers and painted chambers, beautified by campaka and aśoka trees. There were platforms of ivory, silver, and gold, ever-flowering and fruit-bearing trees, and pools of water. The finest seats of ivory, silver, and gold were arranged, and all manner of foods, drinks, and delicacies were supplied. Adorned with precious ornaments, the inner palace was like the abode of the gods. Thus did the great king enter his splendid inner palace.