A Throne Denied - Bharat Kaikeyi

Ayodhya. Silence reigns. The air is heavy. Bharat returns.

Bharat:
What gloom has kissed these golden walls,
Where are the drums, the temple calls?
Why do the lamps refuse to burn—
Has joy fled, will it not return?

Why hang the heads of every face?
Where is the smile of this proud place?
Where are my brothers—Lakshman, Ram?
Why does my heart not find its calm?

(He runs through marble corridors and bursts into Kaikeyi’s chamber.)

Bharat:
O mother mine, what tale you hide?
Why is this palace wreathed in pride—
Not pride of joy, but scorn and shame?
What curse has played this wicked game?

Kaikeyi (draped in white, cold and pale):
My son, rejoice! For now the throne
Shall bear thy name, thy crown, alone.
Thy father once had sworn me boon—
Two promises, as bright as moon.

I asked—O Bharat, do not frown—
For Ram to wear the forest's brown,
And you to wear the crown of kings,
Thus I have changed the fate of things.

Bharat (recoiling):
You asked for Ram’s exile? For this?
For thrones born out of such abyss?
O mother—No! You shame your womb!
You've filled this palace with a tomb.

You bargained with a sacred vow,
To cast my brother to the bough.
For what? A golden seat? A name?
And left behind a trail of shame?

Kaikeyi (defensive but shaken):
He is my son—but so are you!
I only sought what was your due!
The promise old, the boon was just—
Why does your heart recoil in dust?

Bharat:
My due? If this be mine to own,
Then let this throne be carved in stone.
Let forests bloom within my hall,
For I shall rise or I shall fall—
With Ram. Not else. Not ever so.
You made the heavens weep in woe.

Do kings ascend through brothers' tears?
Shall I be lord of dread and fears?
You call it smart—this cruel plot?
I call it poison, deeply wrought.

Kaikeyi (weeping):
But child, I did it all for you!
To see your reign, your dreams come true.
I loved you more—was that my sin?
I never thought you'd loathe the win.

Bharat:
You loved me? Then love was blind—
You killed the peace of every mind.
You broke the heart of Father’s soul—
His breath was lost in your dark goal.

You saw in Ram a threat, a chain—
I saw in him my life’s refrain.
He was my elder, guide, and grace,
Now tears must serve in his place?

No mother’s love could wound like this.
You sold our world for hollow bliss.
To me, this crown is made of thorn—
I wear but grief; not I, but mourn.

Kaikeyi (ashamed, collapsing):
O Bharat, strike me if you must—
I see now dreams built on dust.
Your words are fire—I feel the flame,
But it is I who bear the shame.

Bharat:
No strike of mine shall set things right,
But I shall walk this path of light.
I’ll fetch back Ram, the rightful heir—
And place this crown on truth laid bare.

Let sages write in future’s tome—
A son refused his mother’s throne.
Let Ayodhya one day understand—
True dharma walks not hand in hand
With greed or schemes or whispered lies,
But in the gaze of Ram’s clear eyes.

Kaikeyi weeps as Bharat departs to find Ram.