Kausalya, heavy with sorrow over the exile of Rama, gazed upon her husband, King Dasharatha, whose health had withered under the weight of guilt and grief. Lying semi-conscious on his cot, he heard her anguished words, tinged with bitterness and despair. She lamented:
“O King, Kaikeyi’s nature mirrors that of a coiled serpent. She has spewed venom upon Rama, striking at his soul and tearing apart Lakshmana and Sita in her wake. Like a snake shedding its skin to renew its venom, she now rises more toxic, her wicked designs undiminished. After branding Rama as her enemy and driving him away, she looms over us like an evil reptile, ready to pounce again.
Had I offered my son to her as a servant, perhaps she would have spared him, allowing him to live at her mercy while tending to us. But at her behest, you have dethroned Rama, as if offering the sacred portion of a yajna to demons. Brave and valiant as a mighty elephant, Rama has now ventured into the forest, accompanied by Lakshmana and Sita.
Never have they known hardship before, and yet you have cast them into the jaws of danger, succumbing to Kaikeyi’s cruel schemes. At the prime of their youth, when they should enjoy life’s joys—fine garments, good food, and the delights of springtime—you have stolen their precious time away, silenced by Kaikeyi’s wicked will.
I do not know if I will survive to see them return, but I dream of that day. I long to see Ayodhya festooned with banners, its people thronging the streets like a great ocean, welcoming Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita back home. Their entry will be a divine sight, like a sacred cow under the protection of mighty oxen. Their circumambulations of sages, temples, and teachers will resound with holy hymns, dispelling all fears and sorrows.
Rama, a beacon of dharma, will return transformed by his trials, radiating the brilliance of a sage. He will run to me like a child seeking his mother’s embrace. Yet, I am bound to him as a cow is to her calf, and Kaikeyi, the ferocious lioness, has torn him from my side. My son, a paragon of knowledge, virtue, and righteousness, has been exiled due to your neglect. I am bereft, my mind scorched by anguish, my heart unmoored in despair.”
Overcome by her emotions, Kausalya wept bitterly, her thoughts burning like the midsummer sun. Yet she could not fully perceive the king’s deteriorating state. Watching her, Sumitra, wise and composed, stepped forward to console her:
“O noble sister, cease this torrent of sorrow. Your son is no ordinary man—he is a fortress of strength and virtue, destined for a path far greater than we can fathom. Rama’s maturity surpasses even that of the Brahmarshis. He is guarded by the steadfast Lakshmana, flawless in devotion, and Sita, a radiant beacon of purity, who dispels all darkness in their path.
Take heart, Kausalya, for their journey is decreed by fate for a purpose higher than we can imagine. Do not let your sorrow cast shadows of inauspiciousness upon their mission. The gentle breeze, the smiling skies, and the melodious chirping of birds all signal their safe passage. Rama, the equal of Sun, Agni, and Vayu, is beyond harm. Our ignorance births our fears; let us not blame Kaikeyi or fate.
The Ayodhya we see is but its physical shell; the spirit of Ayodhya accompanies Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana. Free yourself from this anguish, Kausalya. Rama will return with Sita and Lakshmana to restore Ayodhya’s glory. You, the elder queen, are the pillar of this household—your composure is our strength.”
Sumitra’s calm and encouraging words rekindled a flicker of hope in Kausalya’s heart, easing her grief. Meanwhile, Rama, accompanied by his loyal companions, journeyed on. The citizens of Ayodhya and its venerable sages trailed behind his chariot, unable to part with their beloved prince. Addressing them with compassion, Rama said:
“Dear citizens, your respect and love for me touch my heart. Yet I ask that you bestow the same devotion upon Bharata. He is virtuous, wise beyond his years, and will ensure Ayodhya’s prosperity. Obey King Dasharatha’s decree, for it brings me great joy to see harmony in my homeland.”
The crowd, though reluctant, understood Rama’s unwavering adherence to dharma. As he descended from his chariot to walk on foot beside the elders, his humility shone brightly. The Vedic scholars, chanting sacred hymns, blessed him, their prayers forming a divine shield over his journey.
At the banks of the Tamasa River, Rama paused. Sumantara tended to the weary horses, feeding them the lush grass that grew abundantly by the water. The scene was one of serene determination—a testament to Rama’s steadfast resolve and the destiny that awaited him in the wilderness.