The malicious intent of Kaikeyi, cloaked expertly in the guise of seeking a boon and marked by a prideful cunning, struck King Dasaratha with the force of a thunderbolt cleaving a mighty banyan tree, deep-rooted and towering for centuries. At first, he was plunged into profound sorrow, his entire being trembling like a grand bird felled by a hunter’s arrow, flailing in helpless anguish. Gradually, his consciousness returned, stirring him to the present reality. He muttered in a daze, “Is this a dreadful dream? Am I unmoored from reason? Has my wisdom deserted me? Has madness gripped my mind?” Lost in these questions, he struggled back to awareness. His face, pale and hollow, mirrored the terror of a deer caught in the gaze of an encroaching tiger, ready to pounce. He writhed as if a divine serpent ensnared by dark enchantments, exclaiming, “No! No!” before collapsing once more into unconsciousness.
When he awoke, now in a storm of rage, he staggered upright, only to falter and crash to the ground. His eyes, fierce with disbelief, revealed the depth of betrayal inflicted by the one he cherished as his dearest queen. “O cruel spirit,” he lamented, “have you resolved to obliterate the lineage of Ikshvaku? Rama and I have always honoured you with utmost devotion. Rama, in particular, regarded you as no less than Kausalya, showing no sign of partiality. How, then, did you come to make this catastrophic choice? I embraced your noble background and brought you into this dynasty, blind to the venomous serpent hidden within. The world extols the virtues of Rama, the paragon of righteousness, yet you seek to exile him, severing him from the heart of our kingdom.
“On what pretext can I deny Rama his coronation? Take the throne, take the kingdom—I would relinquish Kausalya, Sumitra, even you, but not Rama, who is the essence of my life. My worries dissolve at the very sight of him; his presence fills my world with light. The earth may survive without the sun; I might endure without you. But without Rama, my life will ebb from this body. O Kaikeyi, embodiment of sin, abandon this heinous resolve. I would lay my head at your feet and beg—only release me from this torment and restore Rama to me.”
In his desperation, Dasaratha resorted to a mix of threats and pleas, hoping to touch Kaikeyi’s conscience and sway her away from this ruinous path. “I beseech you, spare Rama, and preserve the honour of our house. O queen, do not let this malevolent plan defile your name. Until now, your record has been spotless. This single act will brand you not just in the annals of the Ikshvaku, but among all royal lineages, as a queen who gave in to dark designs. The world will see you as a traitor, my once-beloved queen. You have never before done anything to displease me, and now I am faced with an unthinkable demand.
“Rama, virtuous and unwavering in dharma, what justification can there be for his banishment to the wilderness of Dandaka? How will you endure his exile, he who holds you in reverence above all? It is known that Rama has served you more devotedly than Bharata, more devotedly than any son could. Though surrounded by attendants, you yourself declared that no one’s service compared to Rama’s. He, beloved of every living creature, including you—what could have stirred enmity in your heart against him?
“Rama, blessed with unparalleled qualities—courage, righteousness, kindness, charity, and mastery in warfare—has earned the love and loyalty of all. He humbly wears his virtues, seeking no praise, and is always eager to bow at your feet and receive your blessings. Truth, compassion, selflessness, purity of thought, speech, and action make up Rama’s very fabric. How, Kaikeyi, did such malevolent intentions find purchase in your heart? No one has heard a bitter word from him; his speech is ever gentle and serene. What wrong could he have committed against you?”
Dasaratha’s voice trembled as he laid bare the torment of his spirit. “I am old, ready to depart for the realm beyond, yet here I am, pleading with folded hands for the life of my son. The wealth of the world is meaningless to me. Show mercy, Kaikeyi; I entreat you, release us from this calamity. Save Rama, and with him, the honour of our lineage. Do not let the Ikshvaku dynasty fall to the stain of a woman’s cruel ambition.”
Dasaratha deployed every appeal—reason, faith, power, reputation, the sacred duty owed to gods, men, and the laws of nature itself. For the first time in his long reign, the king, whose might and strategic acumen had quelled countless wars, faced an enemy he could not conquer. Kaikeyi remained unmoved, her silence a fortress. As Dasaratha’s hope drained, he slipped deeper into a state of despair, inch by inch losing the battle for consciousness. The turmoil within him was a tempest far greater than any clash between gods and demons. It was the catastrophic moment where the bond between word and deed threatened to collapse, undermining power, wealth, and authority. Fate was poised to unleash its full force, and the king could only wait for its arrival.