Rama, the tiger among men, possessed a heart of pure goodness. With gentle words and kindness, he won the affection of all beings and the love of the people. Raghava, as he was also called, conquered the worlds through the power of truth, won the respect of the twice-born by his generosity, served his elders with devotion, and overcame his enemies in battle with his skill at the bow. In him, steadfastly present, were virtues such as truthfulness, generosity, austerity, renunciation, friendship, purity, straightforwardness, learning, and service to elders. In Rama, endowed with uprightness and brilliance equal to the gods and great sages, how could anyone wish for harm to befall him? The speaker, overwhelmed, confessed that he had never uttered a harsh word to anyone, always speaking kindly to all. How then could he, for Kaikeyi’s sake, speak a word to Rama that would please her but cause him pain? Patience, austerity, renunciation, truth, righteousness, gratitude, and nonviolence toward all beings—these virtues were found only in Rama; apart from him, there was nowhere else to turn. He pleaded with Kaikeyi, asking her to show compassion to him, an old and exhausted man, devoted to austerity, wretched, and lamenting in distress. He offered her anything that could be obtained on earth, even up to the ocean’s edge, begging her not to let anger consume her. With folded hands and touching her feet, he implored Kaikeyi to be the refuge of Rama and not let unrighteousness touch him. Overwhelmed by sorrow, lamenting, and nearly unconscious, the great king was completely overcome by grief. Again and again he pleaded for deliverance from the ocean of his anguish, but Kaikeyi replied with words even harsher than before. She reminded him that he had granted her two boons, and now, if he regretted it, how could he speak of his righteousness to the world? When royal sages gathered and spoke of dharma, what reply could he give? Would he admit that he lived by Kaikeyi’s favor, that she protected him, yet he deceived her? Kaikeyi warned that the king would bring disgrace upon the royal line if, after granting a boon, he spoke otherwise. She recalled the stories of Shaibya, who gave his own flesh to a bird, and Alarka, who surrendered his eyes and attained the highest state. Even the ocean, having made a vow, never crosses its boundary; so the king, too, must not break his promise. Accusing him of abandoning righteousness and seeking only pleasure with Kausalya by installing Rama as king, Kaikeyi insisted that whatever he had promised—be it unrighteousness or righteousness, truth or falsehood—must not be violated. She threatened to drink poison and die before his eyes if Rama were anointed king. Even the thought of seeing Rama’s mother accept her salutation for a single day seemed unbearable; death was preferable. She swore by Bharata and herself that nothing would please her except Rama’s exile. Having spoken thus, Kaikeyi fell silent, refusing to answer the king’s lamentations. Hearing her striking words about Rama dwelling in the forest and Bharata’s sovereignty, the king’s senses were disturbed. He did not speak to Kaikeyi for a moment, gazing at her unmoving, though her words were unpleasant. The king, filled with grief and sorrow, was deeply unhappy, reflecting on the queen’s resolve and her dreadful oath. Sighing “Rama,” he fell like a tree cut down. His mind lost, confused like one mad or ill, his vigor gone like a serpent deprived of strength, the lord of the earth was utterly broken. With a weak and distressed voice, he asked Kaikeyi who had advised her to such a ruinous act that appeared as benefit. He accused her of speaking without shame, as if possessed by spirits, and confessed that he had never known such vice in her character before. Now he saw in her a reversal, like a child, and wondered from where this fear had arisen that she had chosen such a boon. He pleaded with her to cease from this attitude and falsehood, questioning her desire for Bharata to sit on the throne and for Raghava to dwell in the forest. If she wished to do what was pleasing to her husband, the people, and Bharata, he called her cruel, evil-minded, petty, and a doer of wicked deeds. He asked what suffering or falsehood she saw in him or Rama, insisting that only Rama could occupy the kingdom. He even considered Bharata stronger than Rama in righteousness, but wondered how he would bear seeing Rama sent to the forest. Rama’s face would grow pale, like the moon eclipsed, and the king’s good resolve, decided with friends, would be shattered. How could he face the army turned away, as if defeated, or answer to the gathered kings from various directions? He lamented that this young Ikshvaku had ruled the kingdom for so long, even though many elders, virtuous and learned, were present. When they questioned Kakutstha, what could he say? That his own son was exiled by him, under Kaikeyi’s compulsion? If he spoke this truth, it would be taken as falsehood. And what would Kausalya say to him when Raghava had gone to the forest?