After the citizens had departed the royal court, King Dasaratha, ever efficient in governance, began issuing instructions for the grand event to be held on the morrow. He then summoned Sumanthra and bade him to bring Prince Rama to his presence once more. Without delay, Sumanthra obeyed, swiftly making his way to fulfill the king’s command. When word of the summons reached Rama, a shadow of doubt crossed his brow. He invited Sumanthra into his abode and asked for a detailed account of the king’s message. With a voice gentle yet precise, Sumanthra spoke: “The king desires your presence. This is a summons without choice.”
Without hesitation, Rama accompanied Sumanthra and arrived at the king’s palace—a marvel of splendour that defied imagination, a testament to ancient wealth and craftsmanship, to be experienced rather than described. Upon learning of Rama’s arrival, King Dasaratha grew anxious, eager to share a matter close to his heart.
With hands folded in reverence, Rama greeted the king. King Dasaratha, eyes glistening with paternal pride, said, “Fortune has blessed me with you as my son. I have given land, gold, cows, and ornaments in abundance to the deserving. I have fulfilled the duties of a king: learning, rituals, and generous donations. Rama, you have known only joy and never a word of complaint—that is my greatest gift. From your youth, you have obeyed every command laid by sacred scriptures. Now, only one task remains: to see you crowned. You have not once spoken of this, yet the people unanimously wish it. Without delay, at the appointed hour, I will crown you as heir. Vasishtha and Vamadeva have set all in order. At dawn, you shall be named crown prince.”
The king then sighed, weariness tinging his voice. “I must tell you something unknown to others. Of late, my dreams have grown dark, filled with omens—lightning bolts, meteors, and unnatural storms during daylight, accompanied by dreadful sounds. Such visions, as our ancient texts say, are harbingers of calamity. Scholars have warned that the alignment of Ravi, Kuja, and Rahu with my natal star signals danger. The signs speak either of a king’s demise or great peril.”
He continued with gravity, “Rama, the mind of man is as fickle as the wind. Be crowned swiftly, before doubt finds root. This day, the moon lies in Punarvasu, close to Pushya—an auspicious time chosen with the people’s and scholars’ consent. Prepare yourself, my son. Tonight, observe the rituals: fast, rest on a sacred grass mat covered with deerskin. Such events are rarely without obstacles; your allies must remain vigilant. I confide this in you—Bharata is not here to witness it. Yet, your brother is loyal, disciplined, and unwavering in virtue. Though his heart is just, even the purest mind can waver.”
The king concluded, “Go now and be ready.” Rama bowed deeply, touching the king’s feet, and then made his way to the women’s quarters where Queen Kaushalya awaited, draped in silks and adorned with precious gems, praying to Goddess Lakshmi. Sumitra, Lakshmana, and Sita were already gathered there.
Approaching his mother, Rama shared the king’s decree and requested her blessings to commence the sacred pre-rituals. Kaushalya’s face shone with joy as she blessed him, saying, “O my son, may you live long and may your enemies falter before you. May prosperity be your companion, and may you guard the well-being of kin and allies alike. Your birth under an auspicious star has brought joy and honour to your father.”
She added, “I have worshiped Lord Vishnu, enduring hardships in my devotion. This blessing of the crown prince is the fruit of that faith.” Rama, grateful and attentive to Kaushalya’s words, smiled and said, “Soumitra, this honour is as much yours as mine, for it is shared between brothers.” Seeking leave from Kaushalya and Sumitra, Rama departed, accompanied by Sita.
What course fate would weave next lay hidden, an unfathomable mystery. King Dasaratha’s words of caution regarding the frailty of the human mind and its wavering resolve would soon intertwine with destiny in a tale yet untold.