Bharata, upon returning to Ayodhya from his grandfather’s kingdom, sought his father, King Dasharatha. To his dismay, the king was nowhere to be found. He then approached his mother, Kaikeyi, who greeted him with great joy at his arrival after such a long journey. Bharata, respectful as always, bowed to her feet, observing the desolate surroundings, devoid of the lively atmosphere he once knew.
Kaikeyi sat beside her son, her joy momentarily overshadowed by curiosity. “How long did it take for you to journey here, my son? Were you not fatigued by the road? How is your grandfather, the great Kekaya king, and your uncle? Are they well? Did you spend your time happily in their company?”
Bharata, with humility, answered, “Mother, I began my journey seven days ago. My grandfather and uncle are in excellent spirits and sent their regards to you. The mighty Kekaya king, generous as always, sent many gifts, which my retinue is bringing. I traveled swiftly, spurred by messengers from the palace. But now, I must ask you something. Why does this golden palace appear so dim, and why is no one cheerful? Where is my father, who used to spend his days here? I have come to bow at his feet and seek his blessings. Tell me, is he in Queen Kausalya’s quarters?”
Kaikeyi, though aware of the tragedy, feigned innocence and offered a comforting explanation. “Your father, a virtuous and noble soul, has left this earthly realm, ascending to the place where all beings eventually go. He, who performed great yajnas and upheld dharma, has departed.”
These words struck Bharata like a thunderbolt. Grief overwhelmed him, and he collapsed to the ground, his cries echoing through the empty halls. “This cot once shone like the moon when my father rested upon it. Now it is barren, like a sky without its moon, like a river without water. Everything feels deserted.” Kaikeyi tried to console him, urging, “O prince, rise! You are destined to rule and must not succumb to sorrow. Your noble character and intentions shine like the sun, and the kingdom awaits you.”
Still engulfed in despair, Bharata responded, “I came eagerly, believing my father was preparing for Rama’s coronation or a grand yajna. Instead, I find myself in the shadow of loss. Mother, when I left for Kekaya, my father was in good health. How did his condition deteriorate so suddenly? Did my brothers Rama and Lakshmana perform his last rites? Oh, if my father knew I had returned, he would have embraced me. I long for my brother, my guide, and mentor Rama. Tell me, Mother, where is he?”
Kaikeyi, maintaining her composure, began her explanation, weaving her selfish motives into what she believed was a beneficial act. “Your father, the venerable king, spent his final moments crying out for Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana. His heart broke as he envisioned their absence. I, seeing an opportunity, asked him to grant you the kingdom and exile Rama for fourteen years. Your father, bound by his word, consented. Rama, adorned in ascetic garb, accompanied by Sita and Lakshmana, departed for the Dandaka forest. The king, stricken with grief over Rama’s exile, could not endure the sorrow and passed away. All of this, my son, was done for your benefit.”
Bharata, aghast at his mother’s revelation, retorted, “What crime did Rama commit to deserve this exile? Did he wrong a Brahmin? Did he steal from the wealthy or oppress the innocent? Has he ever transgressed dharma? What treachery is this, Mother? Rama, the embodiment of virtue, has been wronged, and my father died because of it. How can I bear this?”
Kaikeyi, oblivious to Bharata’s anguish, continued, “Rama did no wrong, my son. But I desired the throne for you, and your father honored my wishes. Now, you must rise above this grief, complete the last rites for your father, and assume the throne. This is your destiny.”
Bharata, heartbroken and outraged, vowed to seek justice, setting the stage for events that would reveal his loyalty to his brother and his unwavering adherence to dharma. Kaikeyi’s selfish actions became a testament to how greed and pride can shatter even the strongest of bonds. The unfolding story would test the mettle of a true patriot, one who understood the power of righteousness and the will of the people.
