As anticipation filled the city of Ayodhyā, the people spoke with joy and hope: “Today Rāghava will attain prosperity, about to receive abundant royal favor. All our desires will be fulfilled, for he shall be our ruler.” They felt blessed, confident that Rāma would govern the kingdom for a long time, and that under his reign, none would witness unpleasantness or sorrow. Rāma was their lord of men, and with his rule, happiness seemed assured. The streets came alive as Rāma proceeded, accompanied by neighing horses, stately elephants, and preceded by auspicious bards and heralds. The finest musicians honored him, and his praises resounded as those sung for Vaiśravaṇa, the lord of wealth. Rāma beheld the great highway, crowded with elephants, chariots, horses, and throngs of people. The crossroads were filled, and the road shone pure, abundant with gems and rich wares. Now, let the seventeenth chapter be heard. Rāma mounted the chariot, surrounded by joyful friends. Banners and flags adorned the procession, and the air was perfumed with costly incense. As the illustrious Rāma gazed upon the city, he saw houses shining pale like clouds, teeming with people. He proceeded along the royal road, its center scented with incense and lined with heaps of sandalwood and aloe. The finest fragrances filled the air, with silks of linen and cotton, unpierced pearls, and exquisite crystals displayed for his passing. The royal road, splendid and unobstructed, was covered with various flowers and foods, both high and low, and adorned with offerings of curd, rice, barley, and incense of aloe and sandalwood. The crossroads were always worshipped with garlands of many kinds and fragrant scents. Rāma heard many blessings spoken by his friends as he honored all the people, proceeding as his ancestors and forefathers had done. The people called out, “Once you are consecrated, protect this path, as we were nurtured by your father and all the forefathers. With Rāma as king, we will live most happily.” They declared, “We have no need now for food or wealth; seeing Rāma established in the kingdom is enough for us. Nothing will ever be dearer to us than the consecration of Rāma, whose splendor is boundless, as king.” Hearing these and other auspicious words from friends and well-wishers, which honored him, Rāma proceeded along the great highway. No one could withdraw their mind or eyes from that foremost man as he passed by. Whoever did not see Rāma, or whom Rāma did not see, was scorned by all, and even his own self despised him. Rāma, righteous and compassionate to all classes and ages, was followed by all. The city’s mansions, pale as clouds and adorned with jeweled lattices, rose up as if to cover the sky. Rāma entered the foremost house on earth, rivaling Indra’s palace, shining with splendor—his father’s residence. Passing through three courtyards guarded by archers and horses, Rāma crossed two more courtyards on foot. Having passed through all the courtyards, the son of Dasharatha dismissed all the people and entered the pure inner chambers. When Rāma entered his father’s presence, all the people, delighted with the prince, waited for his return, as the ocean waits for the moon’s rising. Now, let the eighteenth sarga be heard in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. There, Rāma saw his father seated, dejected, with Kaikeyī. The king’s face was dried and sorrowful. First, with proper conduct, Rāma bowed to his father’s feet, then, with composure, to Kaikeyī’s feet. The king, his eyes filled with tears, called out “Rāma,” but was too distressed to look at him or to speak. Seeing this unprecedented, fearsome appearance of the king, Rāma was seized by fear, as if stepping on a serpent. He saw the great king tormented by grief and sorrow, sighing deeply, his mind disturbed, his senses joyless. Dasharatha was like the ocean, wreathed in waves yet unshaken, now agitated; like the sun eclipsed; like a sage who has spoken falsehood. Perceiving the king’s grief, unfathomable as it was, Rāma became even more anxious, like the ocean at the time of the full moon. Devoted to his father’s welfare, Rāma pondered four possibilities: “Why does the king not greet me today?” He wondered, “At other times, even if angry, my father is pleased to see me; what distress has now arisen in him when he looks upon me?” Appearing sorrowful, afflicted by grief, his face downcast, Rāma bowed to Kaikeyī and spoke: “I hope I have not unknowingly done wrong, on account of which my father is angry with me. Tell me, and please appease him. Why is my father, who is always affectionate toward me, now displeased, his face sorrowful, and does not speak to me? I hope that neither physical nor mental distress troubles him; for happiness is always hard to obtain, and sorrow or anxiety may arise. I trust that nothing inauspicious has happened to Prince Bharata, who is pleasing to behold, or to the mighty Shatrughna, or to any of my mothers.” Thus, Rāma stood before his father and Kaikeyī, anxious and concerned, seeking to understand the cause of Dasharatha’s sorrow.