Let him, who by his consent caused the noble one to leave, be exposed to the harshest fates—so was the spirit of the oaths spoken at that time. If such a person, wicked at heart, were to reveal in public some confidential reproach spoken in trust, let him bear the consequences. Let him become idle, ungrateful, abandoned by himself, shameless, and despised by all the world. Even if surrounded by sons, wives, and servants in his own house, let him, alone, eat the finest food, isolated in his selfishness. Should he fail to obtain a suitable wife, let him die childless, unable to accomplish righteous deeds. Let him see his own lineage perish, suffer distress through his wives, and not attain the fullness of years. May he incur the sins proclaimed for the gravest transgressions: the killing of a king, a woman, a child, or an elder, or for abandoning a servant. Let him, instead of supporting with wholesome things, always provide his servants with only lac, honey, meat, iron, and poison. If he enters battle and causes terror among the enemy, let him be slain as he flees in fear. May he wander the earth, rags for clothing, a skull in his hand, begging like one bereft of sense. Let him fall prey to drink, to women, to gambling—ever overcome by desire and anger. Let his mind turn to righteousness, yet let him act unrighteously and give charity to those unworthy. Whatever wealth he has gathered in many forms, let it be plundered by robbers. Let the sin that falls on one who sleeps through both twilights be his. May he incur the guilt of neglecting the sacred fire, violating the teacher’s bed, or betraying a friend. May he never serve gods, ancestors, mother, or father. May he swiftly fall, today itself, from the world of the virtuous, from fame, and from righteous deeds. Let him abandon service to his mother and stand for no purpose, though he be long-armed and broad-chested. Even if he has many sons, may he be poor, afflicted with fever and disease, always suffering. May he make false promises to his equals, to the distressed, to those who hope, and to supplicants. May he delight in deceit, be harsh, slanderous, impure, fearful of the king, and unrighteous in soul. May he transgress against a virtuous wife, abandon his lawful spouse for others, and estrange his mind from righteousness. Let him incur the sin that befalls a Brahmin whose lineage is lost, or the sin of polluting water or giving poison. With impure senses, let him hinder worship intended for a Brahmin, or milk a cow meant for her calf. When water is at hand, may he deceive a thirsty person and bear that sin. While others argue sincerely before him, seeking the right path, may he be joined to their sin. Thus, bereft of her husband and son, Kausalya, wife of the king, tried to comfort herself, but grief overcame her and she collapsed. Seeing Bharata, insensible and tormented by sorrow, uttering such severe oaths, Kausalya spoke gently to him: “My suffering, dear son, only increases as you swear these oaths, for it is as if you are taking away my very life. Yet, by good fortune, your soul, together with Lakshmana, has not turned away from righteousness. My child, steadfast in your promise, you shall attain the worlds of the virtuous.” Having spoken thus, Kausalya drew Bharata—who cherished his brothers—onto her lap, embraced his strong arms, and wept, overwhelmed by grief. That great-souled prince, lamenting in pain and distress, found his mind agitated by sorrow and delusion. As he lay there, comforted yet senseless, his wisdom lost, sighing deeply again and again, the night passed for him in grief. Now begins the seventy-sixth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa. To Bharata, son of Kekayī, tormented by grief, Vasiṣṭha—the foremost among sages and best of speakers—addressed these words: “Enough of sorrow, noble prince of great fame; now is the proper time—perform the final rites for the king.” Hearing Vasiṣṭha’s words, Bharata regained his composure. Knowing what was right, he arranged for all the funeral rites. The king, Daśaratha, was then removed from the oil bath and placed gently on the ground. His face had lost its color, and he lay as if merely asleep. Laid upon a splendid couch adorned with many jewels, the son of Daśaratha lamented, overwhelmed by sorrow, as the final rites began.