When Rama, accompanied by his devoted brother Saumitri and his faithful wife Sita, was sent away from Ayodhya, the great and illustrious King Dasharatha, unable to bear the pain of separation from his beloved son, was overwhelmed by grief. Consumed by sorrow for Rama, the king’s life ebbed away, and he passed from this world. Then, Kaikeyi, addressing her son Bharata, said, “All that has happened was done for your sake alone. Do not grieve, my son, nor let your mind be troubled. Take refuge in courage. The city and the kingdom are now under your authority and are safe from harm. Therefore, my son, quickly, as the rites demand, gather the foremost sages led by Vasistha and the honored Brahmins. With a steadfast heart, consecrate yourself as king upon this earth.” Thus concludes the seventy-second sarga. Now begins the seventy-third chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. When Bharata learned of his father’s death and the exile of his brothers, he was overwhelmed with sorrow. Grief-stricken, he spoke: “Of what use is this kingdom to me now, as I sit here, bereft of my father and my elder brother, who was like a father to me? You have only added to my pain, like pouring salt into a wound, by causing the king’s death and turning Rama into an ascetic. “You have come upon our family like the night of destruction. My father, embracing a burning coal, did not realize that it was you. Because of you, O wicked one, the king has met his end. Happiness has vanished from this family, swept away by your delusion, you who have brought disgrace upon our lineage. “My father, steadfast in truth and renowned, was consumed by intense grief after encountering you and thus perished. The great king, devoted to righteousness, has been destroyed. Why was Rama exiled? For what reason did he go to the forest? “How could Kausalya and Sumitra, overwhelmed by sorrow for their sons, possibly survive after encountering you, my mother? Rama, noble and righteous, has always behaved toward you with utmost respect, as a son should to his mother. And my eldest mother, Kausalya, wise and farsighted, has always treated you with the righteousness due a sister. “After sending her self-controlled son, clad in bark and deer skin, to dwell in the forest, how do you, O sinful one, not feel grief? You have exiled one who is blameless, heroic, self-mastered, and famous—now wearing garments of bark. What reason did you see for this? “Surely, your greed regarding Raghava was not unknown to me. For the sake of the kingdom, you have brought about this great calamity. Deprived of Rama and Lakshmana, those tigers among men, how could I, by what strength or power, hope to protect this kingdom? The mighty king always relied on Rama, the powerful one devoted to righteousness, just as Mount Meru depends on its forest. “How could I possibly bear this great burden, like a weak animal yoked to a heavy load? With what strength could I endure it? Even if I had the power of asceticism or the strength of intellect, I would never fulfill your desires, you who are greedy for a son. “I would never wish to abandon you, wicked as you are, if only Rama would always regard you as his mother. But how did such a thought arise in you, O fallen one, condemned by our ancestors? In this lineage, the eldest is always anointed as king, and the other brothers, with focused minds, serve him. “Truly, I do not think you are just, nor do you observe royal duty, nor do you understand the enduring path of royal conduct. In the royal tradition, the eldest is always consecrated as king; this is the established custom among kings, especially among the Ikṣvākus. Among those devoted to righteousness and the customs of their lineage, pride in their conduct has vanished upon encountering you. “Though you are descended from illustrious kings, how has this blameworthy delusion arisen in you, clouding your judgment? I will not carry out your wicked desire, for you are set on evil; you have begun a calamity that brings death to me. Yet, for your sake, I will do this unpleasant deed: I will bring back from the forest my brother, so dear to our family. After bringing back Rama, I, with steadfast heart, will become his devoted servant, shining with inner strength.” Thus, having spoken these words, the great-souled Bharata, though overwhelmed by grief, wounded his mother with a multitude of harsh words, roaring again like a lion in a mountain cave. The seventy-fourth chapter now begins. Seized with great anger, Bharata once more reproached his mother: “Be deprived of the kingdom, Kaikeyi, cruel one, doer of evil deeds. Abandoned by righteousness, do not die weeping. What wrong did the king or Rama, who is truly righteous, do to you, that you have brought both death and exile upon them? “By destroying this family, you have incurred the guilt of killing an unborn child. Kaikeyi, go to hell and do not attain your husband’s world. By this terrible deed, you have abandoned one beloved by all the worlds and brought fear even to me. “Because of you, my father has died, and Rama has taken refuge in the forest. You have brought disgrace upon me in this world of the living.” Thus did Bharata, in his anguish and righteousness, pour out his grief and anger upon his mother, Kaikeyi, as the sorrow of Ayodhya deepened.