on foot in the direction of his mother’s palace. They followed him.
Rama went up to his mother, Kausalya. She was weak with her fasts and austerities undertaken for the welfare of her son. She had been expecting him to arrive in full regalia but noted the ordinary silks which he wore and asked, “Why are you not dressed yet for the coronation?”
“My father has decided to crown Bharatha as the King,” Rama said simply.
“Oh, no! But why?”
Rama said, “For my own good, my father has another command; it is for my progress and spiritual welfare.”
“What is it? What can it be?”
“Only that for twice seven years, he wants me to go away and dwell in the forests, in the company of saints, and derive all the benefit therefrom.”
Kausalya broke down and sobbed. She wrung her hands, she felt faint in the depth of her bowels, sighed, started out to say things but swallowed back her words. She said bitterly, “What a grand command from a father to a son!” She asked, “When do you have to go? What offence have you committed?”
Rama lifted his mother with his hands and said, “My father’s name is renowned for the steadfastness of his words. Would you rather that he spoke false? . . . I am thrice blessed, to make my brother the King, to carry out my father’s command, and to live in the forests. Do not let your heart grieve.”
“I cannot say, ‘Disobey your father,’ only let me go with you. I cannot live without you.”
“Your place is beside your husband. You will have to comfort and nurse him. You must see that he is not sunk in sorrow by my exile. You cannot leave him now. Also, later, my father may want to engage himself in the performance of religious rites for his own welfare, and you will be needed at his side. After living in the forests, I will come back—after all, fourteen years could pass like as many days. If you remember, my earlier stay in the forests with Viswamithra brought me countless blessings; this could be a similar opportunity again, for me. So do not grieve.”
Kausalya now realized that Rama could not be stopped. She thought, “Let me at least beg my husband’s help to hold him back from this resolve. . . .” However, when she reached the King’s chamber and saw his condition, she realized the hopelessness of her mission. As he lay there stunned and silent, she understood that he must be in some dreadful dilemma. Unable to bear the spectacle of an inert, lifeless husband, she uttered a loud wail. Her cries were so loud that the guests in the assembly hall were startled, and requested Sage Vasishtha to go up immediately and find out the cause. All kinds of music, chanting of hymns, prayers, laughter, and talk had filled the air; but this sudden intrusion of wailing destroyed the atmosphere of joy. Vasishtha hurried on. He found the King looking almost dead, Kaikeyi sitting apart and watching the scene unperturbed, and Kausalya in a state of complete desperation and wretchedness. He quickly tried to estimate the situation. It would be no use questioning Kausalya. He turned to the calm and firm-looking Kaikeyi. “Madam, what has happened?”
“Nothing to warrant all this hullaballoo,” Kaikeyi said. “A situation like this ought to be ignored, a purely domestic matter. Do not be perturbed, sir. Go back to the assembly and tell them to be calm. A few changes in the arrangements, that’s all. They will be told about it soon.”
“I want to know everything,” said Vasishtha emphatically.
She hastened to say, “Of course, you are our spiritual mentor and guide and you have every right to demand an explanation.” While she spoke, Vasishtha saw Kausalya writhing and squirming, and Dasaratha stirring. Dasaratha was evidently aware of what was going on in the room though unable to take part in the conversation. Lest either of them should begin to say things at cross-purposes with her, Kaikeyi said, “Your wisdom sustains us, sir. You will realize that nothing untoward has happened. Before I had even spoken fully, Rama understood and agreed. It’s the others who are making all this fuss. Rama has surrendered his right to the throne in favour of Bharatha, and will stay away in the forest for fourteen years. It’s a thing that concerns primarily himself, and he has accepted it without a word, with much grace. But these others think . . .” She swept her arm to indicate several hostile persons.
Vasishtha understood, but still asked, “What is the cause of this change?”
Kaikeyi, whose good manners had reached their limit, now said, “If my husband will speak, he can—otherwise please wait. Just tell those assembled that there is a change in the programme.”
“That we will see later,” said Vasishtha. “First we must revive the King.” He stooped over the King lying on the couch, gently lifted his head, and helped him to sit up. “We need you, Your Majesty. You are our lord and captain. What is to happen if you are withdrawn like this?”
The King went on mumbling, “Kaikeyi, Kaikeyi . . .”
Vasishtha said, “The Queen, Kaikeyi, is most considerate. She will do nothing that goes against your wishes. I am sure she will be obliging and helpful. There has been no opportunity to discuss these questions with her Majesty, our immediate concern being your welfare.” Kaikeyi listened passively to this hopeful statement by Vasishtha.
Dasaratha, clutching at a straw of hope, asked, “Does she relent? If she does, Rama will be King; and as to my promise, let her ask for any other fulfillment she may think of. . . .”
Relieved to find the King improving, Vasishtha turned to Kaikeyi and appealed to her with all the humility he could muster in his tone. “Everything is in your hands. . . . Please consider yourself as the benefactress of humanity. The whole world will be grateful to you for your help. Please reconsider.”
Kaikeyi became emotional: “If one cannot depend on the promise of a famous king,” she hissed, “life is not worth living. After all, I have done nothing more than ask for the fulfillment of his own voluntary promise, and you talk as if I had committed a crime!”
“You do not realize the evil consequences of your act, nor are you willing to listen and understand when we try to explain. Your obstinacy is inhuman,” said Vasishtha. When she appeared unaffected, he went on: “The King’s tongue never uttered the words of exile; you have passed this on as his own command, knowing that Rama would never question the truth of it. You have used your position as his favourite queen.”
No matter how he argued and persuaded, Kaikeyi held her ground with cynical calm. “Oh, Guruji, you too talk like these ignorant, self-centered people who find fault with me without understanding.”
Finally the King burst out, “Oh, devilish one, you ordered him into exile! Is he gone? In seeking you as a mate, I sought my death. Those cherry-red lips I thought sustained me, but they have only been a source of the deadliest
