The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Last Days

A bright light invaded Ram's eyes as he sat up from his cot. Stretching, he looked around the cabin, smiling over to where Bharat had already gotten up, and was sitting peacefully, and almost laughing at the twins' condition. Lakshman was stiff, arms folded, jaw clenched, and a frown upon his face even as he slept. Shatrughan had a lazy smile and was curled up in a little ball, rolling around his bed.

"Rise and shine..." teased Bharat in a sing-song voice. "Last day in Gurukul!" Ram froze. Last day? It couldn't be. He had spent so many years, six years of his life, in this place that he couldn't imagine one without it.

Shatrughan sat up rapidly. "Last day?! I didn't even plan anything! Oh gods, I have to plan a last prank, and a last meal, and a last goodbye, and-" he suddenly sat silent, smirking evilly as he crawled over to Lakshman's cot and looked right at him.

"Oh no, Laksh! Danger!" He cried, making his voice sound like it was from far away. Lakshman's eyes flew open, he pounced off his bed, drew a dagger that was attached to the side of his dhoti, and pushing Shatrughan right down on the bed, held it right over his heart.

"Oh, it's just you." Shrugging, Lakshman sheathed his dagger, crawled back into his bed, and went right back to sleep. Shatrughan stood, petrified as Bharat collapsed from laughter.

"He was about to murder me!" he squeaked, pointing to himself, then Lakshman. "Me! His twin. His priya!" Scowling, Shatrughan jumped right on top of Lakshman's back, which made the poor third prince sit up rapidly again, and throw him off.

"Shatru," he groaned. "Stop doing that." Shatrughan giggled. "Or what, what will you do?" Lakshman, almost dangerously slowly, walked out of his blankets, fixed Shatrughan with his death glare, and began to sharpen his dagger.

"So, as you all know, today is Ram, Bharat, Lakshman, and Shatrughan's last day here in the hermitage. I hope that we all say goodbye to them." Vishwamitra announced from right under the willow tree, before stepping down.

Seconds later, Lakshman was crushed in the arms of Shatrughan, who wept openly in front of the entire ashram.

"Oh Laksh. How I'll miss you! I don't even know what I'll do alone, in the palace, all day, without you glaring at me. Oh wait, you're coming along!" Shatrughan looked up with a fake surprise. Lakshman exhaled nasally.

"At this rate, Shatru, it'll be me prancing around the palace alone. Seeing as you'll be dead by my dagger." The twins glared at each other, a fight that only Lakshman could ever win. Bharat, ever the peacemaker, divided them up, however.

"Come on, guys. No fighting. We wouldn't want the ashram to remember you guys as the twins who always fought, now would we?" Bharat was now the target of both the twins' glares.

"No," Lakshman hissed. "We wouldn't want the ashram to remember us as twins at all." This statement was so 'Lakshman' that the entire hermitage burst into sorrowful tears, not being able to imagine a life without the brothers, who had slyly inched their way into their hearts. What would they do, Vishwamitra wondered, without Ram's constant respect, meditations, and excellence with archery? What would they do without Bharat's paintings, peacemaking, and calmness? What would they do without Lakshman's glares, fights, and persisting injuries? And what would they do without Shatrughan's lame jokes, pranks, and misbehavior?

Shatrughan found, quite joyfully, that everything he wanted was being given to him by emotional ashram helpers.

"Could I have another ladoo?" he asked jokingly during lunch, but lo-and behold, another ladoo was plopped on his plate with a sloppy kiss placed on his head.