King Daśaratha sat in his chamber, his heart in turmoil. His face had grown pale, and he trembled like a noble horse yoked between the wheels of a chariot, his spirit agitated and unsteady. His vision dimmed, as if he could not see clearly, yet with great effort, he gathered his courage and addressed Kaikeyī, who stood before him. “The night has passed, O lady,” he said, his voice heavy, “and the sun is about to rise. Soon the people will come, urging me to proceed with Rāma’s consecration. All the preparations have been made for this sacred rite. Let Rāma perform the water-rites for me, as though I were already dead. But you and your son must not do so, if you persist in obstructing Rāma’s consecration, O woman of evil conduct.” He turned away in grief. “Today, I cannot bear to face the people. Once, their faces shone with joy at the prospect of Rāma’s coronation. Now, their happiness will be destroyed, and they will turn away in sorrow.” As the great-souled king spoke in such anguish, the auspicious night, adorned with the moon and stars, came to its end. Dawn approached, but peace did not come. Kaikeyī, her heart hardened, addressed the king again, her words sharp and cold, though she was skilled in speech. “Why do you speak such words, O King, as though they were poisoned arrows? Summon your son Rāma at once. Install my son on the throne, send Rāma to the forest, and make me free from rivals. Only then will you fulfill your promise and your duty.” Her relentless demands struck Daśaratha like a noble horse goaded sharply and repeatedly. Bound by his sense of righteousness, his mind lost and anguished, he said, “I am tied by dharma, yet I wish only to see my beloved eldest son Rāma, who is devoted to righteousness.” Meanwhile, as the auspicious night passed and the sun rose, the stars aligned favorably, and the hour for the great consecration arrived. The venerable sage Vasiṣṭha, virtuous and wise, gathered his disciples and all the necessary sacred items, and made his way swiftly into the foremost city. He entered Ayodhyā, its streets freshly sprinkled and swept, hung with splendid banners, bustling with joyful attendants, and prosperous with shops and markets. The entire city was alive with festival preparations, fragrant with sandalwood, aloe, and incense, all in eager anticipation of Rāghava’s coronation. Passing through this city, which rivaled Indra’s own, the illustrious Vasiṣṭha beheld the inner palace, richly adorned with banners of many kinds. The palace teemed with townspeople and villagers, Brahmins holding staffs, fine horses, and was honored by all. Reaching the heart of the palace, Vasiṣṭha, pleased and surrounded by eminent sages, moved through the assembled throng. There, at the doorway of the lion among men, he saw Sumantra, the renowned charioteer and minister, a man pleasing to behold. The mighty Vasiṣṭha addressed him: “Go quickly and inform the king that I have arrived. Here are pitchers of Ganges water, golden vessels from the seas, and a sacred wooden seat of udumbara 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 drawn by four horses, a sword, and an excellent bow. A vehicle attended by men, a parasol like the moon, white fly-whisks, a golden vessel for sprinkling, a pale-hued bull adorned with golden chains, a four-fanged lion, the foremost among monkeys of great strength, a throne, a tiger skin, sacrificial firewood, the sacred fire, 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—all these and many more, delighted and speaking kindly, are assembled with the kings for Rāma’s consecration. Hasten to the great king, so that when the auspicious hour arrives and the constellation Puṣya is in conjunction, Rāma may receive the kingdom.” Hearing Vasiṣṭha’s words, Sumantra, strong and loyal, praised the tiger among kings and entered the palace. The royal attendants at the door, though unable to restrain the aged minister, wished only to please the king and allowed him entry. Standing near Daśaratha and perceiving his troubled state, Sumantra began to praise him with words meant to bring comfort and joy. He spoke with folded hands, as was his custom in the palace, honoring the lord of the earth: “Just as the radiant ocean rejoices at the rising of the sun, so, with a joyful heart, may you bring us happiness today. At such an hour, Mātali praised Indra, who conquered all the demons; likewise, I awaken you. Just as the Vedas and their branches awaken the self-born lord Brahmā, so I awaken you today. Just as the sun and moon together awaken the beautiful earth, so I awaken you. Rise, O great king! Let the festivities and auspicious rites be performed, and shine forth like the sun upon Mount Meru. May Soma and Sūrya, O descendant of Kakutstha, Śiva and Kubera, Varuṇa, Agni, and Indra grant you victory!