With words as sharp and thunderous as Indra’s own weapon, Sumantra addressed Kaikeyī, his voice ringing through the royal hall and striking at every weak point in her heart. He spoke of her withering actions, reminding all that for her sake, King Daśaratha—lord of all beings, moving and unmoving—had cast aside his own devoted wife. Sumantra’s words grew heavier as he declared that no deed could be more grievous than Kaikeyī’s; in his eyes, she was as one who destroys her own husband and, in doing so, brings ruin upon her lineage. He accused her of tormenting a king who was like Indra himself—unconquerable, steadfast as a mountain, and calm as the vast ocean. Sumantra urged her not to disdain King Daśaratha, her benefactor and husband, for to a woman, a husband’s wish should be dearer than even a hundred million sons. Just as, upon a king’s death, kingdoms are inherited according to age, so too did Kaikeyī now seek to rob the lord of the Ikshvaku line of his rightful due. “If your son Bharata becomes king and rules the earth, so be it,” Sumantra declared. “But know this: wherever Rāma goes, we will follow. No Brahmin should stay in your realm, for you are about to commit an act so unrighteous that the virtuous will abandon you.” He warned that all would follow Rāma’s path, leaving her isolated, bereft of kin, Brahmins, and the noble-hearted. “What joy will you find in gaining the kingdom,” he asked, “when you are determined to commit such a disgraceful deed? It is a wonder the earth does not split open at once beneath one whose conduct is like yours. Even the terrible, fiery curses of the great Brahmarshis do not touch one so fixed on sending Rāma into exile.” He went on, “Who, after cutting down a mango tree, would tend a neem tree? Even if watered with milk, the neem will never become sweet. I think your lineage is as your mother’s, for it is said that honey does not flow from a neem tree. We have heard of your mother’s evil nature: once, a benefactor granted your father a boon, allowing him to understand the speech of all creatures.” Sumantra recounted how, lying on the bed of Jṛmbha, Kaikeyī’s father had laughed at the sounds of many animals. Angered, Kaikeyī’s mother demanded to know the cause of his laughter, even if it meant his death. The king explained that revealing the reason would end his life, but she insisted. When the king prepared to fulfill her wish, the boon-giver intervened, forbidding him to speak, whether it led to death or ruin. Thus, the king was freed from his wife’s demand and lived joyfully, like Kubera. “In the same way,” Sumantra continued, “you too, following the path of the wicked, are seized by this false resolve, blinded by delusion. Truly, the saying is proved: men follow their fathers, women their mothers. Do not act thus—accept what the lord of the earth has spoken. Attend to your husband’s wishes and be the refuge of the people. Do not, urged by sinful counsel, lead your husband—equal to the king of the gods—into unrighteousness.” He reminded her that her sinless husband, the illustrious King Daśaratha, would never break a promise once made. “Let Rāma, the eldest, generous, accomplished, and protector of dharma and all beings, be consecrated as king. Otherwise, a great reproach will fall upon you when Rāma departs for the forest, abandoning his royal father. Let Rāghava protect the kingdom and relieve your distress, for none but he is fit to dwell in this noble city.” Thus, with words both gentle and harsh, Sumantra, palms joined in supplication, tried again to stir Kaikeyī’s heart in the royal assembly. Yet she remained unmoved—her face unchanged, neither disturbed nor distressed by his impassioned plea. Now, listen to the next chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Afflicted by the weight of his promise, King Daśaratha spoke again to Sumantra, tears streaming and sighs deep, his voice heavy with sorrow. “O charioteer,” he said, “let the army, adorned with jewels and all four divisions, be swiftly prepared to accompany Rāghava. Let women of beauty, eloquent speakers, and wealthy merchants add their splendor to the well-arranged troops of the prince. Those who depend on him, those in whom he delights, let them be honored with gifts and assigned their places as well. Let the chief weapons, the townsfolk, the carts, and the skilled hunters of the forest follow Kakutstha. There, hunting deer and elephants, drinking wild honey, and seeing many rivers, perhaps he will not remember the kingdom he has left behind.