When King Dasaratha confessed the burden of his long-guarded secret to Queen Kausalya, he felt relieved of its oppressive weight, though it had been concealed to spare the queens from distress. With his mind unburdened, the king drifted into the eternal slumber from which no man returns. Kausalya and Sumitra, noticing the king in a state of deep repose, themselves succumbed to an unusually profound sleep.
At the break of dawn, the royal court was awakened by the customary voices of bards singing praises of the king’s lineage and scholars chanting sacred hymns to welcome the Sun. These noble pursuits, resounding in harmony, filled the palace as per the long-standing traditions of the Ikshvaku dynasty. Hearing these sacred sounds, the palace women prepared for the king’s morning rituals. They skilfully applied fragrant oils, arranged flowers, and brought gold urns filled with water treated with sandalwood paste and turmeric. Freshly prepared food for the royal household was presented in its usual order to honour the king.
As the morning progressed, a few trusted attendants approached the king to wake him for his morning duties. Growing uneasy with his stillness, they waited momentarily before summoning seasoned attendants familiar with royal customs and the king’s physical condition. Upon gently shaking him, they felt his cold, unresponsive form. The grim truth they feared now stood confirmed—the mighty Dasaratha had breathed his last.
Kausalya and Sumitra, still unaware of the king’s passing, lay close by in a sleep so deep it mirrored unconsciousness. When Kausalya awoke to the devastating truth, she was struck with profound grief that her brilliance seemed dimmed, like a star obscured by the darkest clouds. She clung to her husband’s lifeless form, her heart shattered, as murmurs spread among the attendants— “The queens are sleeping, and the king has departed in his slumber.” When the sorrowful cries of the palace reached the queens, they stirred awake, only to fall into despair upon seeing Dasaratha’s lifeless body. Kausalya appeared as a fallen star, her radiance extinguished, while others likened her to a great elephant felled by sorrow. The palace was consumed by grief, reverberating with wails and lamentations.
The courtiers gathered in stunned disbelief, gazing helplessly at one another. Kausalya, cradling the king’s head in her lap, wept bitterly, her eyes swollen and red. Turning to Kaikeyi, she cried out, “O cruel woman, your desires are fulfilled! The king is no more—rule the kingdom unchallenged. Rama has gone to the forest; my husband has departed for the heavens. I am left alone, adrift in a desolate world, bereft of purpose or will to live. You, who defied sacred traditions, have ruined the Ikshvaku dynasty. At Mandhara’s behest, you destroyed this lineage, and now Rama, unaware of his father’s passing, endures the forest’s trials with the virtuous and delicate Sita. Janaka, who entrusted his daughter to Rama, must now grieve her plight. She, who deserves joy, faces the terrors of the wilderness. Shall I not follow tradition and join my husband in the funeral pyre?”
Some attendants gently led the grieving queen away as the ministers, under the guidance of Sage Vasistha, took steps to preserve the king’s mortal remains according to royal customs. In the absence of his sons, the king’s body was prepared for viewing by his kin and subjects. Throughout the palace, whispers of sorrow filled the air. “How could the gentle and righteous Rama be sent away? How could the king leave us under Kaikeyi’s rule? Rama, our protector, is gone, and now our king has departed. How will we survive under such misrule?”
The news of Dasaratha’s demise spread like wildfire through Ayodhya. The citizens, already reeling from Rama’s exile, were left in despair at the kingdom’s sudden headlessness. A dark cloud of uncertainty loomed, akin to a sky without the sun or a night bereft of stars. The once-brilliant Ayodhya now stood in shadow, its spirit crushed by a single selfish act that upended a great dynasty. The kingdom, strong and prosperous, was thrust into chaos, and its people were robbed of hope. Yet, even amidst this turmoil, the page of history unfolded, woven by fate’s grand design, steering all towards an ultimate, greater purpose.
