Sumantra, the wise minister, stood before Queen Kaikeyi, his heart heavy with grief and outrage. He addressed her with words as sharp as arrows, “O Queen, there is no act more grievous than the one you commit today. In my eyes, you are as one who slays her own husband, and in the end, you will bring ruin to your own lineage. By your deeds, you torment a king who is like Indra himself—unconquerable, steadfast as a mountain, and unshaken like the vast ocean. Do not look down upon King Dasharatha, your husband and benefactor. For a husband’s wish, O Queen, is for a woman more precious than even a hundred million sons. Just as, when a king dies, the kingdom passes by right of age, so now you seek to deprive the lord of the Ikshvaku line of what is his due. Let your son Bharata become king and rule the earth if you so desire—but know that we will go wherever Rama goes. No Brahmin should dwell in your realm, for today you are about to commit an act so unrighteous that even the virtuous and the learned will abandon you. Surely, all of us will follow the path that Rama takes, forsaken by relatives, Brahmins, and the righteous. O Queen, what joy will you find in gaining the kingdom when you are intent on such a disgraceful deed? I marvel that the earth does not split open at once for one whose conduct is as yours. Even the terrible, blazing, awe-inspiring rods of the great Brahmarshis—created for cursing—do not harm one who stands firm in sending Rama to exile. Who, after felling a sweet mango tree, would tend a bitter neem tree? Even if you water it with milk, it will not become sweet. I think your lineage is like your mother’s, for it is well said that honey does not flow from a neem tree. We have heard, as is known, of your mother’s evil nature. Once, some benefactor granted your father an excellent boon, by which he could understand the speech of all beings, even animals. Then, while lying on the bed of Jṛmbha, your illustrious father heard the voices of many creatures and laughed again and again. There, your mother, angered and filled with a deathly desire, demanded of your father, ‘Tell me, I wish to know the reason for your laughter.’ The king replied, ‘O Queen, if I reveal to you the reason for my laughter, I will surely die—this is certain.’ 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 of the boon he had received. Then the boon-giver, approvingly, replied to the king, ‘Let this not be spoken of, O lord of the earth, whether it leads to death or destruction.’ Hearing these words, the king, his mind at ease, at once dismissed your mother and enjoyed himself like Kubera. In the same way, you too, following a path of the wicked, out of delusion, are seized by this false resolve, O you who see only evil. Indeed, the saying rings true: men follow their fathers, and women follow 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 and lotus-eyed Dasharatha, will not break a promise made, O Queen. Let Rama, the eldest, generous and accomplished, protector of his own duty and of all beings, be consecrated as king. For, O Queen, the world will speak ill of you if Rama, abandoning his royal father, is sent to the forest. 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 joined palms, tried to move Kaikeyi in the royal assembly. But the queen remained unmoved, neither disturbed nor distressed, and no change came over the color of her face. Now begins the thirty-sixth chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Afflicted by the weight of his promise, King Dasharatha, his eyes brimming with tears and his chest heaving with deep sighs, spoke again to Sumantra: “O charioteer, let the army, adorned with jewels and all four divisions, be quickly prepared to accompany Rāghava. Let women famed for their beauty, eloquent speakers, and wealthy merchants embellish the well-ordered troops of the prince. Those who depend on him, and those who delight in his strength—after bestowing upon them many kinds of gifts, assign them here as well. Let the chief weapons, the townspeople, the carts, and the hunters skilled in the forest all follow Kakutstha. Killing deer and elephants, drinking wild honey, and seeing the many rivers, perhaps he will not remember the kingdom he leaves behind. Whatever stores of grain or treasures I possess, let them both follow Rāma as he dwells in the lonely forest. Performing sacrifices in holy places, giving abundant gifts, and meeting with sages, he will live happily in the forest.” Thus, the sorrowful king gave his orders, his heart torn between duty and love, as the fate of Ayodhyā hung in the balance.