Kaikeyi, her words sharp and stinging like poisoned arrows, addressed King Daśaratha, challenging him: “Why do you speak so, O King? Summon your son Rāma here without delay. Install my son on the throne, send Rāma to the forest, and make me free from rivals—only then will your duty be fulfilled.” Urged on by Kaikeyi’s relentless insistence, Daśaratha felt as if he were a noble horse repeatedly prodded by a sharp goad. Bound by the unbreakable ties of righteousness, his mind lost and overcome with sorrow, the king confessed, “I wish to see my beloved eldest son Rāma, who is ever devoted to dharma.” As the auspicious night faded and the sun rose, the stars aligned favorably, and the proper moment for the great event arrived. The venerable sage Vasiṣṭha, endowed with every virtue and surrounded by his devoted disciples, swiftly gathered all the necessary items and entered the foremost city of Ayodhyā. The city itself was a sight to behold: its streets had been swept and sprinkled with water, splendid banners fluttered above, joyful attendants bustled about, and the marketplaces overflowed with prosperity. Everywhere, preparations for the festival were underway; the air was rich with the fragrances of sandalwood, aloe, and incense, all in eager anticipation of Rāghava’s consecration. Passing through this city, which rivaled even Indra’s celestial abode, the illustrious Vasiṣṭha beheld the inner palace adorned with many kinds of banners. The palace teemed with townspeople and countryfolk, Brahmins bearing staffs, fine horses, and was honored by all. Pleased by these auspicious signs and accompanied by eminent sages, Vasiṣṭha made his way through the assembled throng. At the palace entrance, he saw Sumantra, the renowned and skilled charioteer, emerging—an esteemed minister and a man pleasing to behold. Vasiṣṭha addressed him with gravity: “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 made of udumbara for the consecration. We have brought all kinds of seeds, fragrant substances, various jewels, honey, curds, ghee, parched grains, darbha grass, flowers, and milk. There are eight lovely maidens, a noble intoxicated elephant, a splendid chariot drawn by four horses, a sword, and an excellent bow. We also have a vehicle attended by men, a parasol shining like the moon, white fly-whisks, and a golden vessel for sprinkling. There is a pale-hued bull with a hump, adorned with golden chains; a lion with four fangs; and the foremost among monkeys, mighty in strength. A throne, a tiger skin, sacrificial firewood, and the sacred fire for offerings are ready, along with all kinds of musical instruments and women adorned with ornaments. Teachers, Brahmins, sacred cows, auspicious animals and birds, leading citizens and merchants—all have assembled, delighted and speaking kindly, for Rāma’s consecration. Hasten to the great king so that, when the auspicious constellation Puṣya arrives, Rāma may receive the kingdom.” Hearing these words, Sumantra, mighty and loyal, entered the palace, praising the king as he went. The royal attendants at the door, seeing the aged man approach, did not try to stop him, wishing only to please the king. Standing near Daśaratha, Sumantra perceived the king’s troubled state and began to praise him with words meant to bring joy and comfort. With joined palms, he offered his homage: “Just as the radiant ocean rejoices at the rising of the sun, so may you, O king, bring happiness to us all. At this hour, Mātali praised Indra, the conqueror of demons; likewise, I awaken you. As the Vedas awaken Brahma, the self-born lord, so I awaken you today. Just as the sun and moon together awaken the beautiful earth, so do I awaken you. Rise, O great king, with all festivities and auspicious rites performed, shining like the sun upon Mount Meru. May Soma and Sūrya, Śiva and Kubera, Varuṇa, Agni, and Indra grant you victory, O descendant of Kakutstha. The blessed night has passed, your task accomplished; awaken, tiger among kings, and attend to the next duty. All preparations for Rāma’s consecration are complete; the townspeople, countryfolk, and merchants await with joined palms. The venerable Vasiṣṭha himself stands ready with the brāhmaṇas—command, O King, the consecration of Rāghava. For just as cattle without a herdsman, an army without a leader, a night without the moon, or cows without a bull, so is a kingdom without its king.” Hearing these gentle yet meaningful words, Daśaratha was again overwhelmed by grief. Looking at Sumantra, his joy utterly gone, the king—his eyes red with sorrow, his righteous form still resplendent—spoke with anguish: “Indeed, with your words you have cut my heart again.” Witnessing the king’s deep sorrow and hearing his pained words, Sumantra, his hands joined in reverence, quietly withdrew a little from that sorrowful place.