As dawn broke over Ayodhyā, the air was charged with anticipation. The city, its people, and the royal household all awaited the consecration of Rāma, the beloved prince. Sumantra, the wise and devoted charioteer, approached the king’s chamber, his heart filled with reverence and hope. As he entered, he invoked blessings upon the house of Kakutstha: “May Soma and Sūrya, Śiva and Kubera, Varuṇa, Agni, and Indra grant you victory, O descendant of Kakutstha.” With gentle words, Sumantra sought to rouse the king from his troubled rest. “The blessed night has passed, O tiger among kings. Your task is accomplished. Awaken now and attend to the next sacred duty.” He reminded the king that all preparations for Rāma’s consecration had been completed. The townspeople, villagers, and merchants stood outside with hands humbly joined, awaiting the auspicious moment. The venerable sage Vasiṣṭha himself, surrounded by learned brāhmaṇas, waited for the king’s command to proceed with Rāghava’s anointing. Sumantra’s words were earnest. He spoke of the people’s longing, comparing a kingdom without its king to cattle without a herdsman, an army without a leader, a night without the moon, or cows without a bull. Such would be the fate of a realm where the king was not seen. His words, though gentle, carried a weight that touched the king’s heart. Hearing this, King Daśaratha was once again seized by grief. He looked upon his son, his joy extinguished, and spoke to Sumantra, his eyes reddened with sorrow, “Your words pierce my heart anew.” Seeing the king so dejected, Sumantra, his own heart heavy, withdrew a little, hands joined in respect. In the king’s distress, he found himself unable to speak further. At that moment, Kaikeyī, ever skilled in counsel, addressed Sumantra. She explained, “The king, longing for Rāma’s consecration, spent the night sleepless and exhausted. Now, at last, sleep has overtaken him. Therefore, charioteer, go quickly and bring the illustrious prince Rāma. May all go well—there is no need for further deliberation.” Sumantra, ever dutiful, hesitated. “How can I go, noble lady, without hearing the king’s command?” At this, the king summoned his strength and spoke to Sumantra, “Bring Rāma to me at once. I wish to see him.” In that moment, hope flickered in the king’s heart, and he rejoiced inwardly, believing that good fortune was at hand. With the king’s command, Sumantra departed swiftly, his heart lightened by the prospect of Rāma’s consecration. As he hurried through the splendid inner palace, his mind was filled with joyful anticipation: “Surely, the righteous king will summon Rāma for the consecration today.” Emerging from the palace, Sumantra saw the gateway ahead, thronged with people—merchants, townsfolk, and citizens of wealth and standing—gathered in eager expectation at the king’s entrance. Meanwhile, as the city awoke to the auspicious day, the brāhmaṇas, accomplished in the Vedas, assembled at the royal court with the chief priest. Ministers, army commanders, and the foremost citizens gathered joyfully, all present for Rāghava’s consecration. The pure sun had risen; the day of Puṣya had arrived, with the ascendant in Cancer, marking the sacred time of Rāma’s birth. For the ceremony, the foremost brāhmaṇas had prepared golden water vessels and a splendid, auspicious seat, beautifully adorned. A chariot was covered with a shining tiger skin, and sacred water was brought from the confluence of the Gaṅgā and Yamunā, as well as from other holy rivers, lakes, wells, and ponds—waters flowing in every direction and even from the oceans. Offerings of honey, curds, ghee, parched grains, darbha grass, flowers, and milk were arrayed. Eight beautiful maidens and a noble, intoxicated elephant were present, while golden and silver water jars, filled with pure water and decorated with lotuses and water-lilies, shone with the radiance of the moon and precious jewels. The finest yak-tail fan and a white parasol, glowing like the moon’s orb, were prepared for Rāma. A white bull and white horses stood ready, as did all the splendid, auspicious paraphernalia for the consecration. Musicians and bards assembled, their instruments ready to play in honor of the Ikṣvāku prince. Everything prescribed for the prince’s consecration had been brought together at the king’s command. Yet, as the sun climbed higher, the gathered assembly grew restless. “Who will inform the king?” they wondered, for he had not yet appeared. At that moment, Sumantra, honored by the king, addressed them: “By the king’s order, I have gone quickly to fetch Rāma. You are all worthy of honor from the king, and especially from Rāma. On the king’s behalf, I ask after your well-being, O blessed ones. The king has awakened, but the reason for his not coming...” With these words, Sumantra made his way to the inner palace gate, his mind intent on his duty. Ever devoted to the house of the king, he entered the sleeping chamber, pausing respectfully outside the inner curtain. There, he offered blessings to Rāghava, invoking Soma and Sūrya, Śiva and Vaiśravaṇa, and prayed, “May Varuṇa, Agni, and Indra grant you victory. The blessed night has passed, and an auspicious day has dawned.” Thus, the city of Ayodhyā stood at the threshold of a momentous day, its people and priests ready, the auspicious omens gathered, and the hearts of all turned toward Rāma and his awaited consecration.