Rama and Kaushalya - A Son's Duty

Kaushalya's chambers, which had been prepared for celebration, became a place of unimaginable grief. Rama entered to find his mother already weeping - news traveled faster than feet in palace corridors.

"Mother, I have come to seek your blessing before I leave."

Kaushalya rushed to embrace him, her tears wetting his shoulder. "Leave? Leave for what? You were to be crowned today! What evil has transformed celebration into calamity?"

"Father has given the throne to Bharata and commanded me to live in the forest for fourteen years. These were boons promised to Kaikeyi long ago, and father's word must be honored."

"But this is unjust! Kaikeyi has poisoned your father's mind. You owe her nothing! Stay, my son - resist this madness!"

Rama gently held his mother's hands. "I cannot, mother. If I stay, I make my father's word false. I make him a liar in the eyes of the world. I make his kingship hollow. Can you ask me to destroy my father to save myself?"

"And what of me? Am I nothing? I have waited all my life for this day - to see my son crowned, to know that all my suffering was worthwhile. You would take this from me?"

"Mother, nothing I can give you is worth more than dharma. You taught me this yourself. When I was a child, you told me that a person's word is their life, that promises must be kept even when keeping them costs everything. Do you remember?"

Kaushalya's voice broke. "I remember. But I did not mean... I did not know..."

"You did not know the teaching would be tested so severely. None of us did. But dharma is not a fair-weather principle. It is most valuable precisely when it costs the most."

"I will die without you, Rama. Fourteen years... I am old, my health is fragile..."

Rama's own eyes glistened. "If you die while I am in the forest, I will grieve the rest of my life. But I would rather grieve for a mother who died while her son upheld dharma than live comfortably knowing I abandoned it."

"You are so strong, my son. Where does this strength come from?"

"From you, mother. From father. From the stories you told me of great souls who chose the harder path because it was the right path. I am not strong - I am simply following the footsteps of those who came before."

Kaushalya slowly released him, her grief transforming into something different - not acceptance, but recognition. "Then go, my child. Go with my blessing, though my heart breaks to give it. Be the son I raised you to be. And know that every day you are gone, I will pray for your safety and your return."

Rama prostrated before her, touching her feet. "Your blessing is my armor, mother. With it, no forest can harm me, no exile can diminish me. I will return - and when I do, I will return as the man you hoped I would become."

They embraced one final time, mother and son, their love tested by the most difficult examination dharma could devise. And somehow, improbably, they both passed.