After uttering words of dreadful consequence, the radiant Queen Kaikeyi set aside all her ornaments and lay herself upon the bare ground, appearing as though a celestial nymph had fallen from the heavens. Her face, once adorned with the finest garlands and jewels, was now shrouded in the darkness of rising anger and despondency, resembling the sky veiled in gloom with its stars obscured. Let us now listen to the tenth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. When Kaikeyi was harshly reproached by the sinful hunchback Mantharā, she lay upon the earth as if a divine maiden had been struck down by poison. Resolute in her mind, the radiant queen slowly revealed her thoughts to Mantharā, with careful discernment. Distressed and determined, bewildered by Mantharā’s words, Kaikeyi sighed deeply, her breath hot like that of a serpent maiden. For a moment, she pondered a path that might bring her happiness; and, being devoted to her friend and her own interests, she made her decision after hearing Mantharā’s counsel. Mantharā, seeing her aim achieved, was exceedingly pleased; and Kaikeyi, now angered, made her resolve firm. Weak and dejected, Kaikeyi lay down on the ground, her brows furrowed. Her splendid garlands and divine ornaments, cast off in her anguish, fell to the earth. 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 tightly in a single braid, like a kinnari bereft of life. Meanwhile, the great king had already ordered Rāghava’s consecration. The self-controlled King Daśaratha, who was always eager to bring joy to his beloved, entered the inner apartments, making his way to Kaikeyi’s finest chamber. The chamber was like the sky with pale clouds, the moon seized by Rāhu, filled with peacocks and barhin birds, and resounding with the cries of cranes and swans. It echoed with the music of instruments, was filled with hunchbacked and dwarf maidservants, adorned with bowers and painted rooms, and beautified by campaka and aśoka trees. Platforms of ivory, silver, and gold graced the chamber, along with ever-flowering, fruit-bearing trees and pools of water. The finest seats of ivory, silver, and gold were covered with sumptuous fabrics, and the chamber was supplied with various foods, drinks, and delicacies. Adorned with precious ornaments, it resembled the abode of the gods. Thus, the great king entered his splendid inner palace. Yet, Daśaratha did not see his wife Kaikeyi on the excellent bed. Filled with desire and longing for pleasure, the lord of men searched for her. Not finding his beloved wife, he asked after her and became dejected, for never before had the queen stayed away at such a time. Nor had the king ever entered an empty chamber. Having gone to the chamber, he inquired about Kaikeyi, still unaware of her selfish intent and lack of wisdom. The frightened doorkeeper, with joined palms, spoke: “Lord, the queen is greatly angered and has rushed to the chamber of wrath.” Hearing these words, Daśaratha became deeply troubled. Despondent once more, his senses disturbed and agitated, the king saw her lying on the ground in a manner unbefitting her. The lord of the earth, as if scorched by sorrow, saw his youthful wife—dearer to him than life itself—lying there. Sinless himself, he saw her, whose mind was now set on evil, lying on the earth like a creeper cut off, like a goddess fallen from grace. She appeared as a kinnari cast away, as a fallen apsaras, as a vanished illusion, as a deer caught and subdued. Like a female elephant wounded by a poisoned arrow from a hunter in the forest, she lay deeply distressed, like a great elephant suffering in the woods. Wiping his face with his hands, his mind deeply troubled, the passionate king spoke to the lotus-eyed Kaikeyi: “I do not know of any anger residing in you, O lady. By whom have you been accused, or by whom have you been insulted? O blessed one, why do you lie on the ground, covered in dust, causing me such sorrow, when my mind is devoted to your welfare? It is as if your mind is afflicted by some being, disturbing my own heart. I have skilled physicians, all well-pleased and capable. They will restore you to happiness—tell me, beautiful one, what illness afflicts you? Or is there some dear wish to be fulfilled, or has someone done you harm? Who today has gained great joy, or who has suffered great harm? Do not grieve, do not torment yourself, O lady. “Who that is not to be slain should be slain, or who that is to be slain should be released? Who that is poor should become wealthy, or who that is rich should become destitute? Both I and all that is mine are under your command; I am not able to refuse any wish of yours. Speak what is in your heart, even at the cost of my own life; knowing my strength, you should not doubt me. I will fulfill your desire, I swear to you by my merit; as long as the wheel of time turns, so long is this earth mine. “The Dravidas, Sindhus, Sauvīras, Saurāṣṭras, peoples of the southern lands, Vaṅgas, Aṅgas, Magadhas, Matsyas, the prosperous Kāśis and Kosalas—there is abundant wealth, grain, and cattle born in those lands; therefore, Kaikeyi, choose from them whatever your mind desires.” Thus, Daśaratha, overwhelmed by love and concern, beseeched Kaikeyi to reveal her heart’s wish, promising her anything she desired.