Kaikeyī, addressing King Daśaratha, reminded him of the time when she had protected him, keeping vigilant watch and striving for his safety. For her devotion, he had rewarded her with two boons. Now, Kaikeyī declared, she wished to claim those boons from him, calling him the protector of the earth and descendant of Raghu. She warned Daśaratha that if he did not grant her the boons he had promised in righteousness, she would be so dishonored that she would give up her own life that very day. With these words, Kaikeyī brought the king under her sway, binding him as surely as a deer caught in a snare, and leading him toward his own ruin. She pressed further, reminding Daśaratha of his promise: “O lord, you granted me two boons, and at that time you pledged to fulfill them.” She then revealed her demands, urging him to listen carefully. The preparations for Rāghava’s consecration had already been made, but now, she asked, let Bharata be anointed king in place of Rāma—this was the second boon, which Daśaratha had joyfully granted her in the past. Kaikeyī recalled the promise made during the battle between gods and demons, asserting that the time had come to fulfill it: let Rāma dwell in the Daṇḍaka forest for fourteen years. She insisted that Rāma, steadfast and clad in bark and deerskin, should become an ascetic, while Bharata should rule the kingdom unobstructed. This, she said, was her deepest desire, the boon she chose. She wished to witness Rāghava departing for the forest that very day. She urged Daśaratha to be a king of kings, true to his promise, and to protect his lineage, character, and birth, reminding him that truthfulness is considered the highest good for men in the next world, according to the sages. Thus begins the twelfth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Upon hearing Kaikeyī’s cruel words, the great king fell into deep thought, tormented for a moment. He wondered if he was dreaming, if his mind was deluded, or if he was suffering from some affliction or disturbance. But he found no comfort as he pondered, regaining consciousness only to be further tormented by Kaikeyī’s demands. Distressed and bewildered, like a deer confronted by a tigress, Daśaratha sat on the bare ground, breathing heavily. Like a serpent trapped in a circle, restrained by spells but full of deadly venom, he, the lord of men, uttered words of reproach in anger. His mind overwhelmed by grief, he again fell into confusion. After a long time, deeply afflicted, he regained his senses and, burning with his own energy, spoke to 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.” He questioned her intent: “For what reason are you set on harming us? You have been placed in this house by me, yet you seek my own destruction.” He likened her to a serpent with sharp poison, especially since the whole world praised Rāma’s virtues. Daśaratha wondered, “For what offense should I abandon my beloved son? I could even forsake Kausalya and Sumitra, 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? Without Rāma, my life cannot remain in this body; therefore, let this sinful resolve be abandoned at once.” He pleaded, “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.” Daśaratha continued, “Rāma 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.” He lamented, “O queen, a great calamity has come upon the house of the Ikṣvākus, where your mind, once guided by virtue, has turned astray. Never before, O large-eyed one, did you do anything improper or displeasing to me; therefore, I cannot believe this of you.” Daśaratha recalled, “Surely, Raghava is equal to Bharata, the great-souled one, in your eyes; for as a child, you often told me so. How, O timid one, do you desire the exile to the forest for that righteous and renowned one for fourteen years? How do you wish for the dwelling in the harsh forest for him, who is extremely delicate and whose mind is set on righteousness?” He pleaded again, “O auspicious-eyed one, why do you desire the banishment of Rāma, who is charming and devoted to serving you? Indeed, Rāma always serves you more than Bharata does; I do not see any special regard from Bharata towards you in this.” Daśaratha wondered, “Who else, apart from that best of men, would show greater service, respect, and obedience in word and deed? Among the many thousands of women and dependents, no reproach or slander is ever found against Rāghava.” He praised Rāma: “Rāma, the tiger among men, with a pure heart, wins over all beings with gentle words and wins the affection of the people. Raghava conquers the worlds by truth, the twice-born by charity, his elders by service, and his enemies in battle by the bow.” Thus, King Daśaratha, overwhelmed by grief and disbelief, pleaded with Kaikeyī, unable to comprehend her cruel demand and unwilling to part with his beloved son, Rāma.