Ever noble and unmatched in conduct, Kaikeyi, whose very nature and actions were always directed toward upholding the world and maintaining virtue, now found herself engulfed in sorrow. Though she possessed the capacity to bear thousands of sons, she grieved as if bereft of all, mourning deeply. If even Kaikeyi, so steadfast and noble, suffered thus, what could be said of Kausalya, who was left to live without her beloved Rāma? Kausalya, a chaste woman blessed with only one son, had been deprived of him, and Kaikeyi was the cause. Because of this, it was foretold that Kaikeyi would endure sorrow both in this world and beyond. Bharata, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation, declared his resolve: he would repay his brother and father in full, and uphold their honor without fail. He vowed that, once Kausalya’s radiant son was brought back, he himself would enter the forest where sages dwell. Bharata could not bear the sin committed by Kaikeyi, especially as the citizens watched with tearful throats. He could not endure her evil resolve. In despair, he told her that she had no other refuge: she must either enter the fire, go herself into the Dandaka forest, or tie a rope around her neck. The only hope lay in the return of Rāma, steadfast in truth and valor. When Rāma returned, Bharata would have fulfilled his duty and be cleansed of the stain of exile. His anguish was overwhelming. Like an elephant in the forest goaded by spears and hooks, Bharata fell to the ground in fury, hissing like a serpent. His eyes were bloodshot, his garments loosened, and all his ornaments cast off. That tormentor of foes lay fallen on the earth, like Indra’s banner at the end of a festival. After a long time, Bharata, mighty and noble, regained consciousness. His eyes filled with tears as he looked upon his grieving mother. Surrounded by ministers, Bharata reproached his mother, saying, “I do not desire the kingdom, nor will I consult with the ministers or my mother. I know nothing of the consecration planned by the king, for I was far away, dwelling with Shatrughna. I know nothing of Rāma’s exile, nor Saumitri’s or Sītā’s banishment, nor how it came about.” As Bharata cried out in this way, Kausalya heard his voice and spoke to Sumitrā, “Bharata, son of Kaikeyi, who has wrought this cruel deed, has come. I wish to see Bharata, who sees far.” Having spoken thus to Sumitrā, Kausalya, pale and clad in soiled garments, trembling and senseless, set out to where Bharata was. Meanwhile, Bharata, together with Shatrughna and Rama’s younger brother, went to Kausalya’s residence. Seeing Kausalya distressed, Shatrughna and Bharata, both filled with sorrow, embraced her as she lay overwhelmed by grief, her senses lost. Weeping themselves, they approached the noble and wise lady, who was also weeping in her sorrow. Kausalya, greatly afflicted, spoke these words to Bharata: “Now, the kingdom you desired has come to you, free from obstacles. Kaikeyi has quickly obtained it for you by her cruel deed. Having sent my son, clad in bark garments, to dwell in the forest, what virtue does Kaikeyi, with her cruel vision, see in this? Soon, Kaikeyi will surely send me as well to where my illustrious son, shining like gold, now dwells. Or else, I myself, accompanied by Sumitra, will gladly go, performing the sacred fire-rite beforehand, to where Raghava is. Or, if you wish, you may yourself take me there today, to where that tiger among men, my son, endures his penance. Indeed, this vast kingdom, filled with wealth and grain, elephants, horses, and chariots, has been handed over to you by her.” With many such harsh words, blameless Bharata was reproached and felt deep anguish, as if pierced by a needle in a wound. His mind agitated, he fell at her feet, lamenting in many ways, losing consciousness. After regaining his senses, he stood there, while Kausalya continued to lament. Bharata, with joined palms, spoke to Kausalya, surrounded by grief: “Respected lady, why do you reproach me, who am innocent and unaware? You know well my deep and steadfast affection for Raghava. May my mind, which follows the path of the scriptures, never turn from him; he is truthful, the best among the virtuous, and has your approval. Let the most sinful servant be sent, let him defile the sun, or strike a sleeping cow with his foot—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. If a master, having made his servant perform great deeds, renders him useless, that is unrighteousness—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. If, while protecting his subjects like his own children, a king is betrayed, let sin befall the one who acts with your consent. If, after collecting the lawful share of taxes, a king fails to protect his people, may the sin of such a one fall upon him who acts with your consent. And having promised gifts to ascetics at a sacrifice, may he, who has gained the noble one's consent, deceitfully withhold that reward. In battle crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots, where weapons abound, may he, who has gained the noble one's consent, not uphold the righteous conduct of the virtuous. Let the subtle meaning of the scripture, carefully taught by a wise man, be destroyed by the wicked-minded one who has gained the noble one's consent. May he not see one with arms adorned, shining like the moon and sun, seated in royal splendor, who has gained the noble one's consent.” Thus Bharata, tormented by grief and injustice, poured out his heart before Kausalya, affirming his innocence and unwavering devotion to Rāma.