When Bharata learned of his father’s death and the exile of his brothers, grief overwhelmed him. In anguish, he spoke, “What use is the kingdom to me now, as I sit here bereft of my father and my brother, who was like a father to me? You have deepened my sorrow, pouring salt into my wounds, 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 it was you. Because of you, O wicked one, the king met his end; happiness has vanished from our family, stolen by your delusion and disgrace. Encountering you, my father, steadfast in truth and renowned, was consumed by grief and perished. The great king, devoted to righteousness, has been destroyed. Why was Rama exiled, and for what reason did he go to the forest? How could Kausalya and Sumitra, overwhelmed by grief for their sons, possibly survive after encountering you, my mother? Rama, noble and righteous, always treated you with utmost respect, as a son should his mother. Likewise, Kausalya, my eldest mother, who sees far ahead, has always acted righteously toward you, as one would toward a sister. After sending her son, self-controlled and clad in bark and deer skin, to dwell in the forest, how do you, O sinful one, not grieve? Having exiled one who is blameless, heroic, self-mastered, and renowned, now wearing bark garments, what reason could you have 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 power or strength, hope to protect the 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 heavy burden, like a weak animal yoked to a great load? With what strength could I endure it? Even if I had the power through asceticism or the strength of intellect, I would never fulfill your greedy desires. I would never wish to abandon you, wicked in intent, if only Rama would always regard you as a mother. But how did such a thought arise in you, O wicked one, fallen from good conduct and condemned by our ancestors? In this lineage, the eldest is always anointed as king; the other brothers act according to his direction. I do not think you are just, nor do you observe royal duty; nor do you understand the enduring path of royal conduct. In royal tradition, the eldest is always consecrated as king; this is the established custom among kings, especially among the Ikṣvākus. Among those devoted solely to righteousness and upholding their lineage’s customs, the pride in their conduct has vanished upon encountering you. Even 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. Now, for your sake, I will do this unpleasant deed: I will bring back from the forest my brother, dear to our family. After bringing back Rama, I, with a 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 harsh words and roared again like a lion in a mountain cave. Listen now to the next chapter. Having thus reproached his mother, Bharata, seized with great anger, spoke again: “Be deprived of the kingdom, Kaikeyī, 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 through your actions both death and exile have come upon them equally? By destroying this family, you have incurred the guilt of killing an unborn child; Kaikeyī, go to hell and do not attain your husband’s world. By this terrible deed you have committed, 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. You, who appear as my mother but are truly my enemy, cruel one, greedy for the kingdom, I will not speak with you, evil-doer, destroyer of your husband. Kausalya, Sumitra, and my other mothers, afflicted with great sorrow, have suffered because of you, the defiler of our lineage. You are not the daughter of the wise and righteous king, the lord of the horse-sacrifice; you are a demoness, born to destroy your father’s lineage. Because of you, Rama—steadfast in righteousness and ever devoted to truth—was sent to the forest in sorrow, and our father departed to the heavenly realm. It is for this sinful act that you are now the chief, abandoned by me and fatherless, rejected by your brothers, and despised by the whole world.