The fateful night which had witnessed the end of Dasaratha's grief, remorse and his very life, ended. A new dawn brought with it the usual early morning visitors to the palace. There came the ministers, bards, musicians and others, all singing praise of the king. The king's attendants busied themselves with golden pitchers filled with aromatic waters for the royal ablutions, while beautiful women saw to the procurement of unguents, oils, mirrors and combs. The Sun rose higher and the king still slumbered. The ladies in attendance grew anxious and approached the couch but the king did not move, nor did he seem to breathe. Fearing for his life they shook like reeds caught in the river currents and a closer look revealed that their worst fears had come true. The palace was soon to find out a mighty king, who had ruled Ayodhya gloriously had passed on. Noble and renowned as an embodiment of Kshatriya dharma, Dasaratha had at last succumbed to the accusations of Lakshmana, to the silent tears of Sita and to the greatest blow of his life, his separation from Rama. The air of doom that had hung over Ayodhya seemed to have descended, to claim the life of its king. Dasaratha's last breath escaped his body on that fateful night never to return. For Kausalya and Sumitra their hour of waking had come and gone, but they slept deeply. Exhausted with grief, their tear-stained faces were dull, as was Dasaratha's in death. The queens awoke to the terrible wailing of the women of the palace. Realizing that Dasaratha was no more all the queens, overcome with grief, fell in a faint mourning the loss of their protector. The air was soon filled with distressing sounds as the attendants, voiced their anguish weeping inconsolably.