People from every direction streamed into Ayodhyā, drawn by the news of Rāma’s impending consecration as crown prince. The city filled to the brim with eager visitors, their numbers swelling so greatly that a vast, jubilant sound rose above the streets—loud and unceasing, like the roar of the ocean beneath the full moon. Ayodhyā shone resplendent, its splendor rivaling Indra’s own celestial city, as it was surrounded on all sides by the happy, expectant crowds from the countryside. The city’s tumultuous joy echoed everywhere, and it glittered like the ocean brimming with water. In the midst of these festivities, a maidservant who had grown up among Kaikeyī’s relatives and long served in her household happened by chance to ascend one of the palace towers—a structure gleaming like the moon itself. From this lofty vantage, Mantharā gazed down upon Ayodhyā’s royal roads, which had been sprinkled with water and strewn with lotuses and water-lilies in preparation for the great occasion. She saw the city adorned with splendid banners and flags, its streets perfumed with sandalwood water, and filled with citizens who had freshly bathed. The air resounded with the voices of distinguished Brāhmaṇas, who carried garlands and sweets, while the white entrances of the temples gleamed in the sunlight. Every kind of musical instrument played, blending with the chanting of Brahmins and the jubilant sounds of the people. Elephants and horses paraded magnificently, their delight evident, and bulls and cows bellowed in excitement. Seeing Ayodhyā so beautifully decorated, its banners raised high and its citizens exultant, Mantharā was struck with utter astonishment. Absorbed in joy and intent upon gain, the mother of Rāma—Kausalyā—seemed to be distributing wealth among the people. Mantharā wondered at the reason for such extraordinary happiness: what was the delighted king planning? Overwhelmed with curiosity, she asked a nurse, who, filled with great delight, revealed the cause of the city’s celebration. “Tomorrow, under the Pushya star, King Daśaratha will anoint Rāma—who has conquered anger and is faultless—as the crown prince,” she announced. Hearing these words, the hunchbacked Mantharā, quick to anger, descended from the palace, her mind burning with resentment. She went straight to Kaikeyī, who was resting, and addressed her with words sharp and urgent: “Get up, foolish woman! Why do you lie there, blind to the danger that is coming upon you? A flood of misfortune is about to overwhelm you, yet you do not see it. You think yourself fortunate, but you boast of good fortune in what is undesirable—your luck is as unsteady as a river’s current in the hot season.” Stung by these harsh words, Kaikeyī fell into deep distress. She turned to Mantharā and asked gently, “Is all well, Mantharā? You seem troubled, your face greatly afflicted.” Mantharā, skilled in speech and still burning with anger, replied with growing agitation, her words meant to unsettle Kaikeyī and distance her from Rāma: “O queen, a great and unending calamity has begun for you—King Daśaratha is about to anoint Rāma as crown prince. I am filled with fear and sorrow, burning as if by fire, and I have come for your welfare. Your sorrow will be mine, your decline my own, and your prosperity will be my prosperity—of this, I have no doubt. You are born of royal blood and are chief among the king’s wives—how is it you do not understand the severity of royal duties? Your husband, though he speaks of righteousness, is deceitful; his words are gentle, but his nature is harsh. You, with your pure heart, trust him, and so you have been thoroughly deceived. Now he approaches you with empty consolations, but in truth, today he will unite Kausalyā with prosperity. That wicked-hearted man, having removed Bharata from your kin, will soon install Rāma in the kingdom, with all obstacles destroyed. An enemy disguised as a husband, and a mother who claims to wish you well, are like venomous serpents in a child’s embrace—so have you been held. Just as an enemy or a neglected serpent would act, so today Daśaratha has treated you and your son. O naïve one, always accustomed to comfort, you and your kin have been destroyed by this sinful one, who, with false soothing words, is placing Rāma on the throne. Therefore, Kaikeyī, act quickly for your own good at this opportune time; save your son, yourself, and me, who witnesses all this with astonishment.” Hearing Mantharā’s words, Kaikeyī rose from her bed, her face shining with joy, like the crescent moon in autumn. Exceedingly pleased and filled with wonder, she gave Mantharā a splendid divine ornament. Having bestowed this gift, Kaikeyī, still delighted, spoke again: “This most pleasing news you have told me, Mantharā, is truly dear to me. Tell me what more I can do for you, since you have brought me such joy. I see no difference between Rāma and Bharata; therefore, I am pleased that the king will anoint Rāma as heir to the throne. There is no greater boon for me than this. You, who are worthy of affection, have spoken sweet and delightful words, like nectar. Since you have spoken thus, I grant you the highest and best boon—choose what you desire.” Listen now to the next chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Ayodhyā section.