The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Escapees

    "Ram bhaiyya, it seems so nice outside, in the kingdom." Bharat said, dreamily looking out the window, hand resting lazily on his chin. "Outside the gates of this stupid palace, its confinements, all the soldiers." Ram laughed at this innocent statement of Bharat's, slapping a hand on his muscular shoulder.

"You are angered by the soldiers? Ah, mere priya Bharat. You shouldn't be. They are there for our protection. I myself do not like the amount our parents are feeding us. I'll lose all of my energy eating." Shatrughan walked into the room and heard what they were saying, dragging in a bag of paintballs.

"They didn't seem to protect me against Maa Sumitra's wrath either. They laughed at it, actually. Traitors! Oh, why did I have to do that prank, why?" Shatrughan whined.

"That's what I ask myself every single day." Bharat muttered, and Shatrughan scowled at him, elbowing him hard.

"Why are you all in our room anyways? That's right in our room. We have to share a room because we're twins!" exclaimed Shatrughan. There were hundreds of rooms in the grand palace, and yet Sumitra insisted that they must share.

Lakshman stormed in, not angry. He just always stormed everywhere he went. He found his three brothers staring out the balcony wistfully, and found it a good time to interrupt before they all accidentally fell off.

"What happened?" he asked, setting down his crown. Ram smiled at his beloved brother's deep voice, whirled around, and grabbed Lakshman, pulling him forward to his balcony.

"We are all angry with the palace. What do you not like about the palace?" he inquired about his dear brother. Lakshman swallowed, teetering from foot to foot, as if feeling guilty. This was why Ram loved his Laksh so much. He tried not to complain.

"Actually, everyone denies getting me a new horse. I love Shaurya, and everything. But he's old, and weak." Lakshman was putting it lightly. Shaurya was twenty-six years old, bony, weak, and his hair and mane were so thin that he looked sickly and could barely walk. Yet, King Dasharath insisted that until the horse died, Lakshman wouldn't get a new one. And Shaurya, true to his name, hung onto life.

"Why don't we sneak out of the palace? Just for a while, of course. " asked Bharat, not thinking about what he was saying. Shatrughan stood up straight and gaped at him. Lakshman raised an eyebrow.

"That's a great idea!" cried Shatrughan, jumping up and down. Ram opened his mouth to protest, but the twins each grabbed a hand of a brother and pulled them out.

Many twists and turns around the palace, and a particularly steep ladder resulting in a skinned knee later, Ram crawled out of a tunnel, Bharat peeking out apprehensively as Shatrughan and Lakshman jumped out excitedly. They had appeared right in the center of Ayodhya. A long path led to the golden palace where the princes had just left. That hadn't caught their attention, however.

Bharat looked around the Ayodhya Market, which he had looked upon for years and years from his bird's eye view window for years and years. A long dirt path separated both sides of the market, where stalls crowded and excited business people advertised their wares. Some of the stalls were covered with bowls of Holi colorful powder. An artist's dream!

Some sold oily, salty, sizzling hot fried fritters covered in mirch and large plates of sweets. Syrup filled gulab jamuns, nutty barfis, goopy jalebis. Shatrughan went to snatch one, but Ram quickly pulled him back with an apologetic smile towards the stall owner. He had made sure to wrap a small, dingy cloth around each of them, though Shatrughan had wanted to parade around the market in all of his princeliness.