The night that the messengers arrived from Ayodhya, Bharata had a terrible dream. As he came awake at dawn, troubled memories of that dream flooded back into his mind and a great melancholy that defied reason engulfed him. Friends of the prince tried to cheer him up, but Bharata seemed oblivious of all their efforts but their concern made him confess."In my dream last night I saw my father whose body was soiled and hair disheveled, as he fell from the peak of a mountain, into a pit of dung! It seemed like he was wallowing in it and drinking oil with his cupped palms. I also beheld the moon cast itself on to the earth and the oceans dry up. The universe was plunged in darkness and the elephant that carried Dasaratha had only one tusk.An eerie feeling, that a blazing fire had just been extinguished came over me. Again I saw the king, my father, ride a chariot drawn by donkeys, robed in black, daubed with red sandal paste. Women whose skin was black and yellow derided him. To my horror I witnessed a demon clad in red, laughing loudly, beating and dragging him away".

"My night was full of inauspicious dreams. Surely Dasaratha, Rama or I will soon die. He, who is seen riding a chariot drawn by donkeys, will soon reach his funeral pyre to go up in smoke. Memories of that frightful dream make me uneasy. I suffer from the dread of the unknown, a dread that is painful and which I cannot shake off. My throat dries, my voice trembles and the feelings of premonition are unbearable. I seem to loathe myself but I do not know the reason why!"