As Rama finished speaking, Lakshmana entered the gathering, his head bowed in deep respect, but his mind caught in a storm of sorrow and anger. The best among men, Lakshmana’s brow was furrowed, and he breathed heavily, like a great serpent seething in its lair. In that moment, his face, marked by a fierce frown, was as daunting as that of an enraged lion, difficult even to look upon. He shook his clenched fist with the force of an elephant swinging its trunk, tilting his head to the side and letting his neck fall, his agitation unmistakable. Glancing at his brother from the corner of his eyes, Lakshmana spoke, his words sharp and impassioned: “This great turmoil within you, Rama, is for nothing. Out of concern for some imagined fault in righteousness, and an excessive regard for public opinion, how could someone as steadfast as you speak in this way? How is it that you, a valiant Kshatriya, speak so feebly of fate, as if it were all-powerful and we are helpless before it?” He pressed on, his voice trembling with emotion. “How is it that you do not suspect any wrongdoing in those two? There are people who use righteousness as a mere pretense—O righteous one, do you not see this? If their conduct were truly sincere and not motivated by selfishness or deceit, then surely, Rama, the boon would have been granted long ago, and it would have been a proper one. I cannot bear, O hero, to see another’s consecration begin in a way that is hated by the people—please forgive me for saying this.” Lakshmana’s devotion and indignation burned brighter. “Even that righteousness, O wise one, which has led your mind into doubt, is hateful to me, because it has caused you to be bewildered. How can you, by your own action, obey your father’s unrighteous and blameworthy command, acting under Kaikeyi’s influence? Though this division has arisen from wickedness, you do not recognize it; that brings me sorrow, and your attachment to righteousness is, in this case, blameworthy.” He continued, his words now a plea and a protest. “This adherence to righteousness of yours is condemned by the world; how could you, even in your thoughts, serve those two, who always act for their own gain and are enemies, though called father and mother? Even if your resolve and their will are determined by fate, still, you ought to disregard it; yet, even that does not please me.” Lakshmana’s voice grew resolute. “It is the weak and those lacking in valor who submit to fate; but heroes, self-respecting and strong, do not yield to destiny. He who is able to overcome fate by human effort does not despair, even when destiny brings misfortune upon him. Today, people will witness the power of fate and the power of human effort; today, the distinction between destiny and human action will become clear. Today, those who watched your consecration for the kingdom thwarted by destiny will see fate itself overcome by my effort.” His eyes blazed with determination. “Like a mighty elephant gone mad, unrestrained even by the goad, I will chase down fate and turn it back with my own strength. Not even all the guardians of the worlds, nor all three worlds together, could prevent your consecration today, Rama—much less your father. Those who have arranged your exile to the forest, O king, will themselves dwell in the forest for fourteen years.” Lakshmana’s confidence was unshakable. “Fate’s power cannot match the might of one intoxicated with strength; my fierce effort will prevail, bringing suffering to the enemy. After a thousand years have passed and the rule of the noble sons is complete, only then should you go to the forest—never now. For, according to the custom of ancient royal sages, forest dwelling is prescribed only after entrusting the people to sons who care for them as their own children.” He paused, then offered another path. “But if, out of concern for the confusion of the kingdom with so many princes, you, righteous Rama, do not wish the kingship for yourself—then I vow to you, hero, that I will not seek the glory of the world of heroes; I will protect your kingdom as the shore protects the ocean. Perform your consecration with auspicious rites and take up the responsibilities there; I alone will forcibly restrain the fire of the other kings.” Lakshmana raised his arms in earnest. “These two arms are not for ornament, nor is the bow for decoration; my headband is not for adornment, nor are my arrows for mere display. All these—arms, bow, headband, and arrows—are meant for crushing the enemy; nor do I desire anything excessive from one considered my foe. With a sword of sharp edge, shining like lightning, I do not consider any enemy, even one armed with the thunderbolt, as equal to me.” He painted a vivid image of battle. “Crushed by the blows of my sword, the earth will be covered with the heads, arms, hands, and thighs of elephants, horses, charioteers, and warriors, making it impassable. Struck by the edge of my sword, my enemies will fall blazing to the ground like thunderclouds with lightning. With my fingers protected by leather guards and my bow and arrows in hand, how could any man consider himself a man while I stand among men? With my arrows, I will strike down many who are united in purpose, and even if alone, I will lay low multitudes, targeting the vital points of men, horses, and elephants.” Lakshmana’s resolve was now absolute. “Today, the power of my weapons will be truly displayed; I will render the king powerless and establish your authority, lord. Today is the time for sandalwood paste, for the removal of armlets, for the relinquishing of riches, and for the protection of friends. These two arms of mine are indeed fit, O Rama, for performing deeds—especially for repelling those who obstruct your consecration.” He ended, his voice full of devotion and readiness for action. “Tell me, who today shall be struck down by me—who, though not your friend, boasts of life, fame, and loyal followers—so that this earth may come under your sway? Command me as you wish, for I am your servant.