Rāghava, renowned for his virtues, conquers the worlds by the power of truth, wins the hearts of the twice-born through charity, earns the respect of his elders through devoted service, and overcomes his enemies in battle with his skillful use of the bow. In him, truthfulness, generosity, austerity, renunciation, friendship, purity, straightforwardness, learning, and reverence for elders are unwavering. Such qualities are steadfast in Rāghava. O lady, in this upright Rāma, who is equal to the gods and whose brilliance rivals that of great sages, how could you ever wish harm upon him? I myself have never spoken a harsh word to anyone, always offering kind speech to all; so how can I now, for your sake, speak to Rāma words that may please you but would bring him pain? In Rāghava, patience, austerity, renunciation, truth, righteousness, gratitude, and even nonviolence toward all beings are found. Apart from him, to whom else could I possibly turn? Kaikeyī, you ought to show compassion to me—an old man, exhausted, 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 let not anger seize you. With folded hands, I beseech you, Kaikeyī, even touching your feet; be the refuge of Rāma—do not let unrighteousness touch me here. Thus, overwhelmed by sorrow, lamenting, unconscious, and reeling, the great king was completely overcome by grief. As he kept pleading again and again for deliverance from this ocean of sorrow, Kaikeyī replied to him 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 gather with you and speak of dharma, what will you say in reply? Will you say, ‘I live 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, surrendering his eyes, attained the highest state. The ocean, having made a vow, never crosses its boundary; remember what was done before—do not break your promise. 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 me, there can be no violation of it. For I will drink poison right now, here before you, and die before your eyes if Rāma is anointed king. If I could see Rāma’s mother for even a single day, accepting my salutation, surely death would be better for me. By Bharata and by myself, O king of men, I swear to you: nothing will please me except Rāma’s exile.” Having spoken thus, Kaikeyī fell silent, refusing to reply to the king, who continued to lament. Hearing Kaikeyī’s striking words about Rāma dwelling in the forest and Bharata’s sovereignty, the king—his senses disturbed—did not speak to her for a moment. He gazed at the queen, unmoving, though she spoke unpleasantly. Hearing those words, like thunder, so painful to his heart, the king was filled with grief and sorrow, unable to find happiness. Reflecting on the queen’s resolve and her dreadful oath, sighing “Rāma,” he fell as if a tree cut down. His mind lost, like one mad, confused, like one ill, his vigor gone, like a serpent deprived of its strength, the lord of the earth became. With a voice weak and distressed, he spoke to Kaikeyī: “Who has advised you this ruinous act, which appears as benefit?” “You speak to me without shame, as if 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 Rāghava 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 Rāma? In no way, except for Rāma, would Bharata occupy the kingdom. Indeed, I consider him even stronger than Rāma in righteousness; how will I see Rāma, when he is told to go to the forest? His face will become pale, just as the moon is eclipsed; and my good resolve, decided together with friends—how will I see the army turned away, as if defeated by others? What will the kings, gathered from various directions, say to me? Alas, this young Ikshvaku has ruled the kingdom for so long, though many elders, virtuous and learned, were present. They will question Kakutstha, and then what shall I say here? That my son was exiled by me, under Kaikeyī’s compulsion? If I speak this truth, it will be taken as falsehood. What will Kausalyā say to me when Rāghava has gone to the forest? And what shall I reply to her, after having done such a grievous wrong?