Sitting on a branch, she has hewn down the tree itself, and in the midst of joy has raised a structure of sorrow. Rama used ever to be as dear to her as life; why has she now taken to such perversity?

Truly say the poets that a woman’s mind is altogether inscrutable, unfathomable and shrouded in mystery. Sooner may a man grasp his own shadow than know the way of a woman.

What is there that fire cannot burn, or ocean contain? What cannot a woman, miscalled powerless, accomplish in her strength? What creature is there in this perishable world that death devours not?

What did God first ordain and what has he now proclaimed? What would he show us then and what has he shown now?' Said some, 'The king has not done well; he has not been discreet in granting the wicked woman her boon.

He has wilfully brought upon himself all this misery, and by allowing himself to be mastered by a woman has lost all good sense and discretion. Others who were prudent would not blame the king, for they recognized the obligations of duty.

They repeated to one another the legends of Shivi, Dadhichi and Harishchandra. Some, too, suggested Bharata’s connivance, but others when they heard it looked indifferent and uttered not a word.

Other stopped their ears with their hands and bit their tongues and exclaimed, ‘This is untrue! If you say that, all your merits will be lost! Rama is dear to Bharata as his own life.