Enraged and burning with the intensity of his own spirit, King Daśaratha turned to Kaikeyī and spoke with anguish, “Cruel one, your conduct is wicked—you are the destroyer of this family! What wrong has Rāma ever done to you, or what sin have I committed, O wicked woman? Rāghava has always treated you with the devotion he gives his own mother.” His voice trembled with pain as he continued, “Why, then, are you so intent on causing this harm? I brought you into this house, yet you now seek my very ruin. Blind to what you unleash, O princess, you are like a serpent filled with venom, even as 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 all my wealth, but not Rāma. If I do not see him, my very consciousness will fade—can the world exist without the sun, or crops without water? Without Rāma, my life cannot remain in this body. Therefore, abandon this sinful resolve at once! “I am ready to bow my head at your feet—be gracious to me. Why have you conceived such a dreadful thought, O sinful one? If you wish to test whether I favor or oppose Bharata, let it be as you yourself declared earlier regarding Rāghava. Rāma is my eldest son, illustrious and foremost in righteousness; what you said, with kind words, was always for the sake of service. “Yet now, hearing your grievous demand, tormented by sorrow, you cause me great pain. You have become possessed in this empty house, which now seems to have fallen under another’s sway. O queen, a great calamity has fallen upon the house of the Ikṣvākus, for 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. Surely, Rāghava is as dear to you as Bharata, that great-souled one, for you often told me so when he was a child. How, then, O timid one, do you desire exile to the forest for that righteous and renowned son for fourteen years? How do you wish for him, so delicate and devoted to dharma, to dwell in the harsh wilderness? “O auspicious-eyed one, why do you seek the banishment of Rāma, who is ever charming and devoted to your service? Indeed, Rāma serves you more devotedly than even Bharata does; I have not seen any special regard from Bharata for you in this. Who else but that best of men would show greater service, respect, and obedience in both word and deed? “Among the many thousands of women and dependents, there is never any reproach or slander against Rāghava. Rāma, the tiger among men, pure of heart, wins all with gentle words and earns the affection of the people. He conquers the worlds by truth, the twice-born by charity, his elders by service, and his enemies in battle by the bow. Truthfulness, generosity, austerity, renunciation, friendship, purity, straightforwardness, learning, and service to elders—these virtues are steadfast in Rāghava. “In him, so upright and equal to the gods, O lady, how can you wish for evil against Rāma, whose brilliance is like that of great sages? I do not recall ever speaking harshly to anyone, for I have always been gentle to all; how, then, could I now, for your sake, speak to Rāma words that please you but bring him pain? “In whom else would I find patience, austerity, renunciation, truth, righteousness, gratitude, and nonviolence toward all beings? Apart from him, where could I possibly turn? You ought to show compassion to me, Kaikeyī, who am old, spent, devoted to austerity, wretched, and lamenting in my distress. “Whatever can be obtained on earth, up to the ocean’s edge, I will give it all to you; but do not let anger take hold of you. I fold my hands to you, Kaikeyī, and even touch your feet; be the refuge of Rāma—let unrighteousness not touch me here.” Thus, overwhelmed by sorrow, lamenting, and reeling from grief, the great king was completely overcome. Again and again, he pleaded for deliverance from his ocean of suffering. But Kaikeyī, unmoved, replied with words even harsher than before. “If, having granted me the two boons, O king, you now regret it, how will you speak of your righteousness on earth, O hero? When many royal sages assemble with you and speak of dharma, what will you say in reply? Will you say, ‘I lived by her favor, and she protected me, yet I deceived her—Kaikeyī’? “You will bring disgrace upon the kings, O lord of men, if, after granting a boon, you now speak otherwise. Shaibya gave his own flesh to a bird in the tale of the hawk and the dove; Alarka, giving up his eyes, attained the highest state. The ocean, having made a vow, does not cross its boundary; do not break your promise, remembering what was done before. “So you, abandoning righteousness and installing Rāma as king, wish always to enjoy yourself with Kausalyā, O wicked-minded one. Let it be unrighteousness or righteousness, truth or falsehood—whatever you have promised to me, there can be no violation of it. For I will drink poison right here, before your eyes, and die if Rāma is anointed king.” Thus, the king’s desperate pleas met only with Kaikeyī’s unyielding resolve, and the shadow of calamity deepened over the house of Ikṣvāku.