All the assembled queens of King Dasharatha, save for Kaikeyī herself, wept in anguish as the calamity unfolded before them. Sumantra, the faithful charioteer, overcome with grief, collapsed in a faint, and everywhere in the palace rose cries of sorrow and lamentation. Now, shaken from his swoon, Sumantra suddenly shook his head, sighing again and again. In his distress, he ground his hand into his palm and gnashed his teeth in frustration. His eyes, once calm, now burned red with anger, and their usual luster was gone; seized by wrath, he was overcome with terrible misery. Perceiving the king’s tormented state, Sumantra turned to Kaikeyī. His words, sharp as arrows, seemed to pierce her heart, and his voice thundered through the hall, harsh and unmatched in its intensity. He spoke words that struck at the very core of Kaikeyī’s being. He said, “It is for you, O Queen, that King Dasharatha has abandoned his own beloved wife—he, the lord of all the world, both moving and unmoving. There is no act here, O Queen, more grievous than yours. I see you as a slayer of your husband, and at the end, the destroyer of your own lineage. By your deeds, you torment one who is like Indra himself—unconquerable as the gods, steadfast as a mountain, unperturbed as the great ocean. “Do not look down upon King Dasharatha, your husband and benefactor! A husband’s wish, for women, is more important than even a hundred million sons. Just as, when a king dies, the kingdom passes according to age, so too do you now seek to deprive the lord of the Ikshvaku line of his rightful heir. “Let your son Bharata become king and rule the earth, if that is your wish—but know this: we will go wherever Rama goes. No Brahmin should dwell in your realm, for today you are about to commit an act so unrighteous. Surely, all of us will follow the path that Rama takes, abandoned by relatives, Brahmins, and all the virtuous. “What joy will you find in gaining the kingdom, O Queen, when you are intent on such disgrace? I marvel that the earth does not split open for one whose conduct is like yours. Even the terrible, blazing, awe-inspiring rods of the great Brahmarshis, created for cursing, do not seem to harm one who stands so firm on sending Rama into exile. “Who, after cutting down a mango tree, would tend a neem tree? Even if watered with milk, it will not become sweet. I think your lineage is just like your mother’s; for it is said in the world that honey does not flow from a neem tree. We have heard before of your mother’s evil nature: there was a time when a benefactor granted your father a remarkable boon. “From that boon, your father, the lord of the earth, gained the ability to understand the speech of all beings, even animals. As he lay upon the bed of Jṛmbha, he heard the voices of many creatures and laughed again and again. Your mother, angered and longing for death, demanded to know the reason for his laughter. The king replied, ‘O Queen, if I tell you the reason, I will die at once—of this there is no doubt.’ Yet your mother insisted, ‘Tell me, whether you live or die, you must not deceive me.’ “Thus pressed by his beloved, the king of Kekaya spoke truthfully about the boon. The boon-giver then replied to the king, ‘Let this not be spoken of, O lord of the earth, whether it leads to death or destruction.’ Hearing this, the king, pleased in mind, at once dismissed your mother and enjoyed life like Kubera. “In the same way, you too, following the path of the wicked, seized by delusion, are clinging to this false resolve, O you who see only evil. And so, the saying proves true: men follow after their fathers, women after their mothers. “Do not act thus, O Queen. Accept what the lord of the earth has said. Attend to your husband’s wishes, and be the refuge of these people. Do not, urged by sinful counsel, cause your husband—equal to the king of the gods, the sustainer of the world—to take up unrighteousness. For your sinless husband, the illustrious king Dasharatha, lotus-eyed, will not break a promise, even if it was made in error. “Let Rama, the eldest, generous, accomplished, and protector of his own duty and of all living beings, be consecrated as king. If Rama goes to the forest, abandoning his royal father, a great reproach will spread about you in the world. Let Raghava protect the kingdom; be free from distress. For none but Raghava is fit to dwell in this noble city.” Thus, with both gentle and harsh words, Sumantra, with palms joined in supplication, once again agitated Kaikeyī in the royal assembly. Yet the queen remained unmoved—neither disturbed nor distressed, nor did any change appear in the color of her face. Now, tormented by his promise, the Ikshvaku king Dasharatha, with tears and deep sighs, turned once more to Sumantra and spoke these words.