The king, his heart deeply troubled and his face streaked with tears, gently wiped his features with his hands. Looking upon the lotus-eyed Kaikeyi, he spoke in a voice filled with concern, “O lady, I know of no anger that dwells within you. Who has spoken ill of you, or insulted you in any way? Why do you lie here on the ground, covered in dust, bringing such sorrow to me, when my mind is ever devoted to your happiness?” He searched her face, anxious, and continued, “It is as if some unseen being has afflicted your mind, disturbing my own heart. I have skilled physicians, all loyal and adept—tell me, beautiful one, what illness weighs upon you? Or is there some cherished wish unfulfilled, or has someone wronged you?” “Who, today, has gained great joy, or who has suffered a grievous loss? Do not grieve, do not torment yourself, O lady. Tell me, who that is not to be slain should be slain, or who that is to be spared should be condemned? Who that is poor should become wealthy, or who that is rich should be made destitute? Both I and all that is mine are under your command; I cannot refuse you anything you desire. Speak what is in your heart, even if it costs me my own life. Knowing my strength, you should harbor no doubt.” He vowed further, “I will fulfill your desire, I swear to you by my own merit. As long as the wheel of time turns, so long as this earth is mine, I will keep my promise. The Dravidas, Sindhus, Sauvīras, Saurāṣṭras, the peoples of the southern lands, Vaṅgas, Aṅgas, Magadhas, Matsyas, and the prosperous Kāśis and Kosalas—all these lands are filled with wealth, grain, and cattle. Kaikeyi, choose from them whatever your heart desires.” Seeing her still troubled, he implored, “Why do you persist in this sorrow, O fearful one? Rise, rise, beautiful one! Tell me truly, Kaikeyi, what has brought you fear; I will dispel it, as the sun scatters the mist.” Thus addressed and reassured, Kaikeyi, gathering her resolve to speak her harsh request, began to press her husband once more. Now, listen to the next chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, the Ayodhyā section. Kaikeyi spoke harshly to the king, whose heart was pierced by love and overpowered by desire. “O lord, I have not been wronged or insulted by anyone,” she began, “but there is a wish in my heart, and I desire you to fulfill it. Swear to your promise—if you truly wish to grant my desire—then I will speak.” The king, with a gentle smile, reached out and took Kaikeyi by the hair as she sat on the ground. “O proud one, do you not realize there is no one dearer to me than Rama, that tiger among men?” he said. “By that unconquered, high-souled Raghava—by Rama, who is my very life—I swear to you, speak whatever is in your heart. I could not live even a moment without seeing Rama; by him, O Kaikeyi, I swear to fulfill your word. By that Rama, whom I choose above myself, my sons, and all others, I swear to grant your request.” He pleaded, “Good lady, consider this in your heart and grant me relief; reflect well and tell me what you think is right. Seeing your own strength, you should not hesitate; I will fulfill your wish, I swear to you by my own merit.” Delighted by these words, Kaikeyi revealed her dreadful intent, her presence as fearsome as Death itself. “Since you swear and grant me a boon in due order,” she declared, “let the thirty-three gods, with Indra at their head, hear this. Let the moon and sun, the sky, the planets, night and day, the directions, the world, this earth, the Gandharvas, and all the Rakshasas bear witness. Let the night-wandering beings, spirits, household gods, and all other beings know what you have spoken. This one, steadfast in truth, of great splendor, knower of righteousness, truthful in speech and pure, grants me a boon—let all the gods hear.” Having embraced and praised the mighty-armed king, she spoke further, her desire clear. “Remember, O king, what happened before in that battle between gods and demons, when an enemy threatened your life. There, O lord, I protected you, keeping watch and striving; for that, you granted me two boons. Those two boons, O lord, which you gave, I now seek to claim from you, O protector of the earth, O descendant of Raghu. If you do not grant me the boon you promised in righteousness, then today, dishonored by you, I will give up my life.” By these mere words, the king was brought under Kaikeyi’s control, like a deer caught in a snare, moving helplessly toward his own destruction. Then Kaikeyi pressed further, addressing the king, who was overcome by desire and infatuation: “O lord, you had granted me two boons, and at that time you promised to give them, O king. Now I will declare those two boons to you today; listen to my words. The preparations for Rāghava’s consecration have been made. With that very consecration, let Bharata be anointed for me; this is the second boon, O lord, which you joyfully granted me. At that time, in the battle between gods and demons, you promised; now that time has come: let Rāma dwell in the Daṇḍaka forest for nine and five years.” Thus, Kaikeyi revealed her heart’s desire, and the king, bound by his word and love, was left to face the consequences of his promise.