Cast off by Kaikeyi, garlands and ornaments fell to the ground, discarded in her anguish. She lay prostrate in the chamber of anger, her garments soiled and disheveled, making the earth seem blemished—just as scattered stars mar the purity of the night sky. Her hair was bound tightly in a single braid, resembling a kinnari bereft of life. Meanwhile, the great king had already ordered the consecration of Rāghava. The self-controlled, illustrious king, who brought joy to his beloved, entered the inner apartments, seeking Kaikeyi in her finest chamber. That chamber was like the sky with pale clouds, the moon eclipsed by Rāhu, filled with peacock and barhin birds, resounding with the cries of cranes and swans. Music of instruments filled the air, and the chamber was attended by hunchbacked and dwarf maidservants, adorned with bowers and painted rooms, beautified by campaka and aśoka trees. Ivory, silver, and gold platforms graced the chamber, along with ever-flowering, fruit-bearing trees and pools of water. The finest seats of ivory, silver, and gold were laid out, and the room was supplied with all kinds of foods, drinks, and delicacies. Precious ornaments adorned the space, making it shine like the abode of the gods. Thus, the great king entered his splendid inner palace. Yet, the king did not see Kaikeyi on her 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 he ever entered an empty chamber; so, upon reaching it, he inquired about Kaikeyi. Unaware, as always, of her selfish intent and lack of wisdom, the king questioned the doorkeeper. The doorkeeper, frightened, with joined palms, replied, “Lord, the queen is greatly angered and has rushed to the chamber of wrath.” Hearing these words, the king became deeply troubled. Despondent, his senses disturbed and agitated, the king saw her lying on the ground in a manner unbefitting her. Like one scorched by sorrow, he gazed upon his youthful wife, dearer to him than life itself, lying there. Sinless himself, he saw her, whose mind was set on evil, sprawled on the floor—like a creeper cut off, like a fallen goddess. Like a kinnari cast away, like a fallen apsaras, like a vanished illusion, like a deer caught and subdued. Like a female elephant wounded by a poisoned arrow from a hunter in the forest, she lay there, deeply distressed, resembling a great elephant in the woods. Wiping his face with his hands, his mind troubled, the passionate king spoke to the lotus-eyed lady: “I do not know of any anger residing in you, O lady; by whom have you been accused or 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—all these lands are filled with abundant wealth, grain, and cattle. Therefore, Kaikeyi, choose from them whatever your mind desires. Why do you trouble yourself, fearful one? Rise, rise, O beautiful one! Tell me truly, Kaikeyi, what has brought you fear; I will dispel it for you, as the sun disperses the mist.” Thus addressed and comforted, Kaikeyi, wishing to speak her harsh request, began to press her husband again. Now, listen to the eleventh chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Ayodhyā section. Kaikeyi spoke harsh words to the king, who was pierced by the arrows of love and overcome by desire. “O lord, I have not been wronged or insulted by anyone; but there is a certain wish in my heart, and I desire that you fulfill it. Swear to your promise, if you wish to grant it; then I will tell you what I truly desire.” The king, with a slight smile, spoke to Kaikeyi, his beloved, taking her by the hair as she sat on the ground. “O proud one, you do not realize that there is no one dearer to me than Rama, that tiger among men. By that unconquered, foremost, high-souled Raghava—by Rama, who is worthy of life—I swear to you, speak whatever is in your heart.