With a heart heavy with grief, the king turned to Kaikeyī and pleaded, “How can you wish for Rama, who is so gentle and steadfast in righteousness, to dwell in the harsh and unforgiving forest? O auspicious-eyed one, why do you desire the banishment of Rama, who is both charming and devoted to serving you? Indeed, Rama’s devotion and service to you surpass even that of Bharata. I do not see Bharata displaying any special regard toward you as Rama does. Who else, apart from Rama—the best among men—would show greater service, respect, and obedience in both word and deed? Among the many thousands of women and dependents in the palace, not a single reproach or slander is ever spoken against Raghava. Rama, the tiger among men, with a pure heart, wins over all beings with his 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. In Rama are steadfast truthfulness, generosity, austerity, renunciation, friendship, purity, straightforwardness, learning, and service to elders. In him, endowed with uprightness and brilliance like that of great sages, and equal to the gods, how can you wish for harm to befall Rama? I have never spoken a harsh word to anyone, being one who speaks kindly to all; so how can I now, for your sake, speak to Rama words that would please you but bring pain to him? In whom there is patience, austerity, renunciation, truth, righteousness, gratitude, and nonviolence toward all beings—apart from him, where could I possibly turn for support? You ought to show compassion to me, Kaikeyī, who am old, spent, devoted to austerity, wretched, and lamenting in my distress. Whatever may be obtained on earth, up to the ocean’s edge, I will give 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 Rama, and let unrighteousness not touch me here.” Thus, overwhelmed by sorrow, lamenting, reeling, and nearly unconscious, the great king was completely overcome by grief. Again and again, he pleaded for deliverance from this ocean of suffering. But Kaikeyī replied with words even harsher than before. “If, having granted me 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 righteousness, what will you say in reply? Will you confess, ‘I lived by her favor and protection, yet I deceived Kaikeyī’? You will bring disgrace upon the kings if, after granting a boon, you now speak otherwise. Remember Shaibya, who gave his own flesh to a bird in the tale of the hawk and the dove, and Alarka, who gave up his eyes and 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. But you, abandoning righteousness and installing Rama as king, wish only 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 you and die before your eyes if Rama is anointed king. If I must see Rama’s mother even for a single day, accepting my salutation, surely death would be better for me. By Bharata and myself, O king, I swear to you: I will not be pleased by anything except Rama’s exile.” Having spoken thus, Kaikeyī fell silent and did not reply further to the king, who was lamenting in distress. Hearing Kaikeyī’s striking words about Rama’s dwelling in the forest and Bharata’s sovereignty, the king, his senses disturbed, remained silent for a moment, gazing at the queen, unmoving, though her words were harsh and unpleasant. Those words, like thunderbolts, pierced his heart and filled him with grief and sorrow. Reflecting on the queen’s resolve and her dreadful oath, the king sighed Rama’s name and fell like a tree cut down. His mind lost, confused like one mad or ill, his vigor gone like a serpent deprived of its strength, the lord of the earth became. With a weak and distressed voice, he spoke to Kaikeyī, “Who has advised you to this ruinous act, which appears to be beneficial? You speak to me without shame, as if your mind is possessed by spirits; I never knew this vice in your character before. But now, I see in you, as in a child, this reversal. From where has this fear arisen, that you have chosen such a boon? You wish for Bharata to sit on the throne and for Raghava to dwell in the forest—cease from this attitude and from this falsehood. If you wish to do what is pleasing to your husband, to the people, and to Bharata, O cruel one, evil-minded, petty, and doer of wicked deeds, what suffering or falsehood do you see in me or in Rama? In no way, except for Rama, would Bharata occupy the kingdom. Indeed, I consider Bharata even stronger than Rama in righteousness; but how will I bear to see Rama when he is told to go to the forest?