Ask with a cheerful countenance whatever pleases your mind and adorn that lovely form with ornaments. Consider within yourself what is fitting and what is unbecoming at this hour, and haste, my darling, to put off this unseemly attire.’

On hearing this and considering the greatness of the oath the king had sworn, the dul-witted Kaikeyi rose with a smile and began to put on her ornaments, like a huntress who sets her trap on spying the deer.

Thinking her reconciled, the king spoke again the soft and winning accents, his whole body trembling with love: ‘Yours heart’s desire, O good lady, has come to pass; every house in the city is a picture of joy and felicity.

Tomorrow I give Rama the rank of regent; so do you, my bright-eyed queen, put on a festive attire.' The queen's heart, hard tough it was, cracked at these words, it seemed as if a ripe boil had been unwarily touched.

But even such agony she concealed with a smile, like a thief’s wife who weeps not openly (on seeing her husband suffer punishment, lest she too should be made to share his lot). The king was unable to fathom her crafty schemes, tutored as she was by a mistress (Manthara) who ranked foremost among million of villains.

Though the monarch was skilled in statecraft, the ways of a woman are like the ocean, unfathomable. Again, with a greater show of hypocritical affection she smilingly said with a graceful movement of her face and eyes:

‘You say, “Ask! Ask!” indeed, but tell me, dear husband, when has it come to giving and taking? You said you would give me two boons, but I doubt my getting them.’