Bharata goes on: when this evil plan took root in your mind, why did your heart not shatter? Asking the boons, did your tongue not rot? At his death hour fate took the king's reason. Even the Creator, he says, does not know the working of a woman's heart, a mine of deceit, sin and fault; how could the simple, gentle, dharma-loving king know it? What creature does not hold Raghunatha dear as life? Yet even he became your enemy; tell me honestly, who are you? Whatever you are, blacken your face and go from my sight. The doha: fate made me from the heart of Rama's enemy; who is as great a sinner as I? It is useless to say anything to you.