King Daśaratha, tormented by grief for his beloved son Rāma, lay senseless upon the ground, his body writhing in anguish. Kaikeyī, seeing the descendant of Ikṣvāku thus collapsed, spoke sternly to him. “Having committed this wrongful act, why do you lie there, after giving your word to me? You must remain steadfast in your resolve,” she insisted. Kaikeyī reminded the king that those learned in dharma declare truth to be the highest virtue, and that it was upon truth she had urged him to act righteously. She recalled how King Śibi, after making a promise, gave his own body to a hawk and thus attained the highest state. Similarly, radiant Alarka, though unwilling, gave away his own eyes to a learned brāhmaṇa, remaining firm in his pledge. Even the lord of rivers, bound by truth, never crosses his own shore, keeping faith with his promise. “Truth is the one eternal principle,” Kaikeyī continued. “Upon truth is righteousness established. The Vedas endure through truth, and by truth the highest is attained. If your mind is set on righteousness, then abide by truth. Let the boon I have asked bear fruit, for you are indeed a bestower of boons, O noble king. For the sake of dharma, and at my urging, send Rāma into exile. I tell you this three times. If you do not fulfill your promise, then, forsaken before your eyes, I will abandon my own life.” Thus Kaikeyī, unwavering in her demand, bound the king in her words, just as Indra had ensnared Bali. Daśaratha’s heart was agitated, his face grew pale, and he trembled like a yoked horse caught between the wheels of a chariot. His vision blurred, and with great difficulty he summoned his courage to speak. “The night has passed, O lady, and the sun is about to rise. The people will soon urge me for Rāma’s consecration. All the materials are prepared for the ceremony; let Rāma perform the water-rites for me as if I were dead. You and your son must not perform these rites if you obstruct Rāma’s consecration, O woman of evil conduct. Today, I cannot bear to see the people, whose faces were once so joyful. Now, their happiness destroyed, they will turn away in sorrow.” As the king spoke these sorrowful words, the auspicious night adorned with the moon and stars came to an end. Kaikeyī, her conduct now harsh and wicked, addressed the king again, her words sharp and filled with anger. “Why do you speak such poisoned words, O King? You should summon your son Rāma here without delay. Install my son on the throne, send Rāma to the forest, and make me free from rivals—then your duty will be fulfilled.” Urged on by Kaikeyī, Daśaratha, like a noble horse struck by a sharp goad, spoke again. “Bound by the ties of righteousness, my mind is lost. I wish only to see my beloved eldest son Rāma, who is devoted to dharma.” Meanwhile, as the auspicious night had passed and the sun had risen, the stars were in favorable conjunction and the proper moment had arrived. Vasiṣṭha, endowed with virtues and surrounded by his disciples, quickly gathered the necessary items and entered Ayodhyā, the foremost city. The streets had been sprinkled and swept, adorned with splendid banners, filled with joyful attendants, and prosperous with shops and markets. The city was alive with festival preparations, eager for Rāghava’s sake, and perfumed everywhere with sandalwood, aloe, and incense. Passing through the city, which rivaled the city of Indra, the illustrious Vasiṣṭha saw the inner palace adorned with many kinds of banners. It was crowded with townspeople and countryfolk, graced by Brahmins holding staffs, filled with fine horses, and highly honored. Reaching the inner palace, Vasiṣṭha, greatly pleased and surrounded by eminent sages, passed through the assembled people. There he saw Sumantra, the renowned charioteer, coming out at the door of the lion among men—a minister pleasing to behold. The mighty Vasiṣṭha addressed him, “Quickly inform the king that I have arrived here. Here are pitchers of Ganges water, golden vessels from the seas, and a sacred wooden seat of udumbara brought for the consecration. All kinds of seeds, fragrant substances, various jewels, honey, curds, ghee, parched grains, darbha grass, flowers, and milk are here. There are also eight lovely maidens, a noble intoxicated elephant, a splendid chariot with four horses, a sword, and an excellent bow. A vehicle attended by men, a parasol resembling the moon, white fly-whisks, and a golden vessel for sprinkling. A bull with a hump, pale in color, adorned with golden chains; a lion with four fangs, foremost among monkeys, possessing great strength. A throne, a tiger skin, sacrificial firewood, and the fire for offerings; all kinds of musical instruments, and women adorned with ornaments. Teachers, Brahmins, sacred cows, auspicious beasts and birds; leading citizens of town and country, and merchants with their groups. These and many others, delighted and speaking kindly, are assembled with the kings for Rāma’s consecration.” Thus, as the city prepared for Rāma’s coronation, the king’s heart remained bound by Kaikeyī’s demands, and the fate of Ayodhyā hung in the balance.