When Sumantra, the wise minister, saw the anguish that had befallen the royal assembly, he pleaded earnestly, “Let Rāghava protect the kingdom and be free from distress, for none but Rāghava is fit to dwell in this noble city.” His words, both gentle and severe, were meant to stir Kaikeyī’s heart, but the queen remained unmoved. No trace of agitation or distress crossed her face; her composure and countenance did not change. Now begins the thirty-sixth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Bound by his promise and tormented by sorrow, the great Ikṣvāku king Daśaratha, with tears streaming down his cheeks and heavy sighs, spoke again to Sumantra: “O charioteer, let the army, resplendent with jewels and comprising all four divisions, be made ready at once to accompany Rāghava. Let women famed for their beauty, eloquent in speech, and wealthy merchants adorn the prince’s well-ordered troops. Those who depend on him and those with whom he delights in strength—let them receive many gifts and be assigned here as well. Let the chief weapons, townspeople, carts, and hunters skilled in the forest follow Kakutstha. Hunting deer and elephants, drinking wild honey, and seeing many rivers, he will not remember the kingdom. Whatever store of grain or wealth is mine, let both go with Rāma as he dwells in the lonely forest. By performing sacrifices at holy places, giving abundant gifts, and meeting with sages, he will live happily in the forest. Mighty-armed Bharata will rule Ayodhyā; and in time, let all desires be fulfilled for the illustrious Rāma again.” But as Kaikeyī heard the king speak thus about Rāma, fear gripped her heart; her face became parched, and her voice was choked. Distressed and frightened, Kaikeyī turned toward the king and said, “Bharata will not desire a kingdom deprived of wealth, empty and devoid of enjoyment, like liquor with its spirit gone.” Having cast off all shame, Kaikeyī spoke these harsh words, and Daśaratha, his eyes wide as lotus petals, addressed her: “Why do you strike me as I bear this heavy yoke? Unworthy woman, why did you not restrain me before this deed was begun?” Angered by his words, Kaikeyī, doubly enraged, replied, “In your own lineage, Sagara banished his eldest son, Asamañja; so too should this one depart.” When she thus reproached him, King Daśaratha replied with shame, and all the people felt the weight of her words, though she did not perceive it. Then an aged minister named Siddhārtha, pure and highly esteemed by the king, spoke to Kaikeyī: “Asamañja, while playing on the road, would seize children and, throwing them into the waters of the Sarayū, found pleasure in this wickedness. Seeing this, all the townspeople, angered, spoke to the king: ‘Choose either Asamañja or us, O increaser of the realm.’ The king asked them, ‘For what reason is this fear?’ And the citizens replied, ‘While playing, he throws our children, whose minds are still unsteady, into the Sarayū out of folly, and takes great delight in it.’ Hearing their words, the king abandoned his own son, who had done such harm, to please the people. Swiftly, he placed him, with his wife and attendants, upon a chariot and exiled him for life, as his father commanded, ‘Let him live in banishment as long as he lives.’ With a spade and basket, Asamañja wandered through mountain fastnesses, roaming all directions as if he were one who had committed a wicked deed. Thus did King Sagara, most righteous, not abandon his duty. But what sin has Rāma committed, that he should be thus obstructed?” Siddhārtha continued, “We see no fault in Rāghava; for him, descent into hell is as unlikely as a stain on the moon. But, O Queen, if you see any fault in Rāghava, speak it truly today; then Rāma shall be exiled. For to abandon one who is blameless and devoted to the righteous path would destroy even Indra’s radiance, being opposed to dharma. Enough, O Queen, with Rāma’s fortune being ruined by you; you must also guard yourself from public reproach, O auspicious one.” Hearing Siddhārtha’s words, the king, his voice weary and overcome by grief, spoke to Kaikeyī: “You do not wish to heed these words, which are for your own good, though they may sound harsh. You do not know what is beneficial for me or for yourself. Having taken to a cruel path, your conduct has strayed from the way of the good. Today I will follow Rāma, renouncing the kingdom, comfort, and wealth. You and Bharata, with all the king’s people, may enjoy the kingdom as you wish for a long time.” Now begins the thirty-seventh chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Hearing the words of the chief minister, Rāma then addressed his father Daśaratha with humility and respect: “O King, since I have renounced pleasures and will live in the forest on forest fare, what need is there for an escort, when I have abandoned all attachments?