As the great King of Ayodhya departed from the world, a heavy gloom descended upon the city. The people were overwhelmed by sorrow, their eyes brimming with tears, while the women of every family wept aloud, crying “Alas!” The once lively squares and bustling houses now stood empty, stripped of their former radiance and joy. Ayodhya appeared as forlorn as the sky without the sun, or the night bereft of its stars—when the sun sets suddenly and the day comes to an end, darkness overtakes all. The king’s friends, except for his son, could not bring themselves to consent to his cremation. Instead, they laid the king upon his bed, sitting beside him and pondering the profound mystery of his presence, which seemed unfathomable even in death. The city, deprived of its great soul, seemed once again like the sky without the sun, or the night without its stars. The streets and squares, usually crowded, now echoed with the voices of those choked with tears. Groups of men and women gathered together, openly reproaching Kaikeyi, the mother of Bharata, for the calamity that had befallen them. With the king gone, the citizens were deeply distressed, finding no solace or comfort. Thus passed the night in Ayodhya—joyless and filled with cries of grief. The people, weighed down by sorrow, found it unbearable, as if a single night stretched on for a hundred years. With the coming of dawn and the rising of the sun, the royal priests and twice-born men assembled and made their way to the council chamber. Among those present were the venerable Markandeya, Maudgalya, Vamadeva, Kashyapa, Katyayana, Gautama, and the illustrious Jabali. These learned brahmins, together with the king’s ministers, each spoke in turn, their attention focused on Vasiṣṭha, the foremost among royal priests. They lamented, “This night, which has felt as long as a hundred years, has finally passed, but our hearts are heavy with grief. Our great king has departed for heaven, Rāma has sought refuge in the forest, and mighty Lakṣmaṇa has followed him there. Bharata and Śatrughna, both noble and ascetic, are far away in Kekaya, in the palace of their maternal grandfather. “Today, someone from the Ikṣvāku lineage must be made king, for a kingdom without a ruler cannot survive. In a land without a king, even the thunderclouds, though they rumble in the sky, do not bring rain to the earth. Without a king, no one sows seed, sons no longer obey their fathers, and wives do not heed their husbands. Wealth disappears, and even the bonds of marriage are lost; in such disorder, how can truth remain? “In a kingless land, men build no assembly halls, nor do the joyful create beautiful gardens or sacred homes. The twice-born, devoted to sacrifice and firm in their vows, do not perform sacred rites. At great sacrifices, wealthy brahmins do not distribute abundant gifts to the worthy. Actors and dancers are not seen, nor do festivals and gatherings that bring prosperity flourish. “Merchants and those fond of stories find no delight; adorned maidens no longer gather in gardens to play in the evening. Men do not venture to the forests in swift vehicles, accompanied by their beloved women. The wealthy, and those who live by farming or cattle-keeping, cannot sleep safely with their doors open. Elephants adorned with bells and ornaments no longer walk the royal roads in their prime. “The sound of bowstrings and arrows in the training grounds is absent. Merchants who travel far do not journey safely, even if they are virtuous. Ascetics do not walk freely, nor do sages return home at dusk. Security and welfare vanish, and armies cannot withstand enemies in battle. Men do not assemble, adorned in splendor with horses and chariots. Those skilled in the scriptures do not prosper, whether in forests or groves. “Garlands, sweets, and offerings are not prepared by the disciplined for the worship of the gods. Royal princes do not shine, adorned with sandalwood, aloe, and perfumes, like trees in spring. A kingdom without a king is like rivers without water, forests without grass, or cows without herdsmen. “The king is the banner of the people, just as the banner marks the chariot and smoke signals fire. Now, our banner has ascended to the divine. In a land without a king, nothing truly belongs to anyone; like fish, people prey upon one another. Even those who break boundaries, who are faithless or full of doubts, are kept in order only by the king’s discipline. “Just as the eye is the guide of the body, so is the king the source of truth and righteousness for the kingdom. The king is truth and righteousness incarnate; he is the noble lineage, the mother, the father, and the benefactor of all.” Thus, in their grief, the priests and ministers of Ayodhya urged one another to restore the order and welfare of the kingdom by placing a worthy successor upon the throne.