Hearing the words spoken to him, Sumantra—the mighty son of the charioteer, renowned for his strength—praised the tiger among kings as he entered the palace. The royal attendants stationed at the door, though unable to restrain the aged Sumantra who had been mentioned before, wished above all to please the king, and so allowed him to pass. Approaching the king and observing his state, Sumantra began to praise him with words filled with satisfaction and reverence. Standing near the lord of the earth, as he had done before, Sumantra joined his palms and offered heartfelt praises. He said, “Just as the radiant ocean rejoices at the rising of the sun, so too, O king, may you bring happiness to us with a joyful heart. At this auspicious hour, as Mātali praised Indra, the subduer of demons, so do I awaken you. Just as the Vedas and their branches awaken the self-born lord Brahma, so I awaken you today. As the sun and moon together awaken the beautiful earth, so do I now awaken you.” He continued, “Rise, O great king! Festivities and auspicious rites have been performed; shine forth in splendor like the sun upon Mount Meru. May Soma and Sūrya, O descendant of Kakutstha, Śiva, Kubera, Varuṇa, Agni, and Indra grant you victory. The blessed night has passed, your tasks are accomplished; awaken, tiger among kings, and attend to the next duty.” Sumantra then announced, “All preparations for Rama’s consecration are complete. The townspeople, country folk, and merchants stand ready, palms joined in anticipation. The venerable Vasiṣṭha himself waits with the brahmins. Command swiftly, O King, for the consecration of Rāghava!” He warned, “Just as cattle without a herdsman, an army without a leader, a night without the moon, or cows without a bull—so indeed will a kingdom become where the king is not seen.” Thus, Sumantra spoke gently yet meaningfully. Hearing these words, the king was again overwhelmed by grief. Looking upon his son, his joy gone, the king addressed Sumantra, his eyes reddened with sorrow. Yet he remained resplendent and righteous as he said, “Indeed, with your words you cut my heart again.” Witnessing the king’s sorrow and hearing his mournful words, Sumantra, hands joined in respect, withdrew a little from that place. When the king, weighed down by distress, was unable to speak further, Kaikeyī—skilled in counsel—addressed Sumantra. She said, “Sumantra, the king, longing for Rāma’s consecration, spent the night sleepless and exhausted, and has now succumbed to sleep. Therefore, go quickly, charioteer, and bring the illustrious prince Rāma; may good befall you—there is no need for further deliberation.” Sumantra replied, “How can I go, noble lady, without hearing the king’s command?” Hearing this, the king spoke to Sumantra, “Sumantra, I will see Rāma; quickly bring the handsome one.” Thinking that good fortune was at hand, the king rejoiced in his heart. Thus commanded, Sumantra departed swiftly and joyfully, urged on by Kaikeyī, and began to reflect, “Surely, the righteous king will summon Rāma here for the consecration.” With this joyful thought, the mighty Sumantra eagerly set out to see Rāghava. Leaving the splendid inner quarters, which shone like the ocean or a great lake, he beheld the crowded gateway ahead. Emerging from the palace, he saw those stationed at the king’s gate and observed the various wealthy citizens gathered and standing at the entrance. Now begins the fifteenth sarga. Having passed the night, the brahmins skilled in the Vedas, together with the royal priest, assembled at the court. The ministers, the chiefs of the army, and the foremost citizens all gathered joyfully for Rāghava’s consecration. When the pure sun had risen and the auspicious day of Puṣya arrived, with the ascendant in Cancer and the time of Rāma’s birth established, all was ready. For Rāma’s consecration, the foremost brahmins had prepared golden water vessels and a splendid, auspicious seat adorned with decorations. A chariot was properly covered with a shining tiger skin, and sacred water was brought from the holy confluence of the Gaṅgā and Yamunā, as well as from other sacred rivers, lakes, wells, and ponds—those flowing east, upward, across, and those with milky waters. Water was also collected from the oceans, and all manner of auspicious items—honey, curds, ghee, parched grains, darbha grass, flowers, and milk—were assembled. Eight beautiful maidens and a noble, intoxicated elephant were present. Water jars, covered with milk, made of gold and silver, were filled and ready. These jars, filled with pure water and adorned with lotuses and water-lilies, shone white as the moon’s disk and were decorated with jewels. Ready for Rāma stood the finest yak-tail fan and a white parasol, radiant like the orb of the moon. All the splendid, shining, auspicious paraphernalia for the consecration was prepared; a white bull and white horses were also set in place. All the musical instruments and the bards had assembled, just as is fitting for the consecration of the kings of the Ikṣvāku line. Thus, all was made ready for the great event.