Even as the king’s heart was wracked with sorrow and turmoil, Queen Kaikeyī herself showed no sign of disturbance or distress. Her face remained unchanged, her color unaltered, betraying nothing of the storm that raged within the royal household. Now begins the thirty-sixth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Afflicted by the burden of his promise, King Daśaratha, scion of the Ikshvaku line, spoke again to his faithful charioteer Sumantra. Tears welled in his eyes, and deep sighs escaped him as he said, “O charioteer, quickly assemble the army, splendid with jewels and all four divisions, so that they may accompany Rāghava. Let the women of beauty and eloquence, and the wealthy merchants, adorn the well-ordered troops of the prince. Those who depend upon him, those who delight in his strength—give them many gifts and assign them here as well. Let the chief weapons, the townspeople, the carts, and the skilled hunters of the forest follow Kakutstha. As he hunts deer and elephants, drinks wild honey, and sees the many rivers, he will forget the kingdom. Whatever stores of grain or treasure I possess, let all 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. Mighty-armed Bharata will rule Ayodhyā, and in time, let all desires be fulfilled for the illustrious Rāma again.” As Kaikeyī listened to these words concerning Kakutstha, fear seized her heart; her face dried and her voice became choked. Distressed and frightened, her face parched, she turned to the king and spoke, “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 uttered these harsh words, and King Daśaratha, his eyes wide as lotus petals, addressed her: “Why do you strike me as I bear this heavy yoke? Why, unworthy woman, did you not restrain me before this deed began?” Hearing the king’s words, spoken in anger, the noble lady Kaikeyī, now doubly enraged, responded, “In your own lineage, Sagara banished his eldest son, Asamañja; so too should this one depart.” Thus rebuked with ‘Shame on you!’ King Daśaratha replied, and all the people felt ashamed, though Kaikeyī did not understand. Then an aged minister, Siddhārtha, pure and highly esteemed by the king, addressed Kaikeyī, saying, “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, ‘For what reason is this fear?’ The citizens replied, ‘While playing, he throws our children, whose minds are unsteady, into the Sarayū out of folly, and takes great delight in it.’ Hearing their words, the king abandoned his own son, though he had done no harm, to please the people. He swiftly placed him, with wife and attendants, on a chariot, and exiled him for life, as commanded. Taking a spade and basket, Asamañja wandered through mountain fastnesses, as if he had committed a wicked deed. Thus did King Sagara, most righteous, not abandon dharma. What sin has Rāma committed, that he is 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, though they are for your own good, though they seem 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 sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. Hearing the words of the chief minister, Rāma then addressed Daśaratha with gentle 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? For one who, after giving away an excellent elephant, sets his mind on the enclosure, what use is the bond of a rope to him, when he has already let go of the noble elephant? So, O best of the virtuous, what use have I for an army, O lord of the world? I permit all to return; let them bring me only garments of bark.” Thus, amidst sorrow and steadfast resolve, the will of dharma and destiny continued to unfold in Ayodhyā.