King Daśaratha, his heart filled with love and devotion, spoke solemnly to Kaikeyī, “By that Rāma whom I cherish above myself, my sons, and all others, O Kaikeyī, I swear to fulfill your request. Good lady, reflect well in your heart and grant me relief; consider carefully and tell me what you think is right. Knowing your own strength, do not hesitate—I will fulfill your wish, I swear it by my own merit.” Hearing these words, Kaikeyī was delighted. Her countenance changed, revealing her dreadful intent, as if Death itself had appeared before the king. With calculated resolve, she addressed Daśaratha, “Since you swear and grant me a boon in proper order, let the thirty-three gods, with Indra at their head, be witness to this. Let the sun and moon, the sky, the planets, night and day, the directions, this world, the earth, the Gandharvas, and all the Rakṣasas bear witness. Let the night-wandering beings, spirits, household gods, and all other beings know what you have promised. This one, steadfast in truth, of great splendor, knower of righteousness, truthful and pure, grants me a boon—let all the gods hear.” With these words, Kaikeyī, having embraced and praised the mighty-armed king, spoke further, her heart burning with desire. She reminded Daśaratha, “Remember, O king, what happened before, in that great battle between gods and demons, when your enemy threatened your life. There, O lord, I protected you, keeping watch and striving for your safety. 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 what you promised in righteousness, then, dishonored by you today, I will give up my life.” With these words, the king, bound by his promise, was ensnared by Kaikeyī’s will, like a deer caught in a hunter’s net, moving helplessly toward his own ruin. Kaikeyī pressed on, reminding the king, “O lord, you had granted me two boons, and at that time you promised to give them. Now I will declare those two boons to you—listen to my words: the preparations for Rāghava’s consecration have been made. With that very consecration, let Bharata be anointed king 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 fourteen years. Let Rāma, steadfast and wearing bark and deerskin, become an ascetic, and let Bharata today rule the kingdom without obstacle. This is my highest desire; I choose the boon you granted. And today, let me see Rāghava departing for the forest.” She concluded, “Be a king of kings, true to your promise; protect your lineage, your character, and your birth. For in the next world, the sages say, truthfulness is the highest good for men.” After these dreadful words, the great king Daśaratha fell into deep thought, tormented by Kaikeyī’s demands. He wondered, “Is this a daydream, or is my mind deluded? Or is it some affliction I have experienced, or a disturbance of my mind?” He found no comfort, regaining consciousness only to be further tormented by her words. Distressed and bewildered, like a deer facing a tigress, he sat on the bare ground, breathing heavily. Like a serpent trapped in a circle, restrained by spells though full of deadly venom, the lord of men, burning with anger, spoke words of reproach. Overwhelmed by grief, he again fell into confusion, but after a long time, the king, deeply afflicted, regained his senses. Enraged and burning with his own energy, he addressed Kaikeyī, “Cruel one, of wicked conduct, destroyer of this family! What wrong has Rāma done to you, or what sin have I committed, O wicked one? Rāghava has always behaved towards you as towards his own mother. For what reason, then, are you intent on this harm? You have been placed in this house by me, yet you seek my destruction. Unaware, O princess, you are like a serpent with sharp poison; for when the whole world sings the praises of Rāma’s virtues—” “For what offense should I abandon my beloved son? I could even forsake Kausalyā and Sumitrā, or give up my own wealth. If I do not see Rāma, my consciousness will be lost; can the world remain without the sun, or crops without water? But without Rāma, my life cannot remain in this body; therefore, let this sinful resolve be abandoned at once.” “I am ready to touch your feet with my head—be gracious to me. Why have you conceived such a dreadful thought, O sinful one? If you wish to test my affection or aversion for Bharata, let it be as you previously declared regarding Rāghava. He is my eldest son, illustrious and foremost in righteousness; what you, who speak kindly, said was only for the sake of service.” “Hearing that, tormented by grief, you cause me great pain; you have become possessed in this empty house, now fallen under another’s control. O queen, a great calamity has come upon the house of the Ikṣvākus, where your mind, once guided by virtue, has turned astray.