The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Unhealthy Competitiveness Part 1

Unhealthy Competitiveness-Part 1

A/N-And here it is! The much awaited Swayamvar competition. Will Ram be a no-show? Will Sita give up? Will Lakshman be the matchmaker of the century? And will Urmila realize something very important? All of these questions will be answered in today's edition of...Ramayana Retold!

Sita sat on the balcony, legs propped up as she admired the moon, shining white like a beacon to the helpless, filled with flaw, but persistent in its light. A breeze blew past, but it did not make her shiver, just the stray strands on her hair blow into her face. Urmila lit a lamp, expecting this bout of emotion the night before the competition.

"Sita, take a blanket, it is cold. You must not catch a fever the day before the competition, what will kings say, if you have a little red nose?" she giggled, trying to light up the spirit. Sita looked up mournfully, not showing any signs of warming up.

"I like the cold. It embraces me. It seems to numb the pain of the fact that the prince, the person, that I care for, does not return my feelings enough to attend my own wedding competition." Urmila wanted to interrupt so terribly bad, but listened instead, to her sister's words.

"He is afraid of embarrassing himself in front of me getting married to someone else. Does he not like me? Does he not care for me as I had understood? Am I just a naive girl who is too much in love to recognize obvious signs of someone not in love in return?" Urmila wanted to speak, but thought it a time to listen to Sita's rant, and sat down on an ottoman.

"I had such high hopes, expectations! Look, the man of my dreams is going to marry me, I will have a second loving family, I won't be married to some conceited king who is so much older than me!" she sniffled then suddenly, her face hardened.

"Love is for the people who can help it. I cannot. Father will marry me off, and I will be a trophy wife of a king who kills and does not care for people, nor me, just for my beauty. I won't ever get to see any of you again!" She took a deep breath. "I don't want a life like that!" she screamed into the empty night. Then, she stopped speaking, and Urmila started.

"He will come. He will. Did you not hear the words of his brother, who knows him so well? Did you not understand what they mean? He is indecisive, but that does not lower the amount of love that he has for you!" Sita wanted to enter the conversation again, but Urmila was on a roll, and would not stop speaking.

"He will come. If not for himself, for his brother's persistence and perseverance! He will compete, if not for himself, for his brother's persistence and perseverance. He cares for you, might be too thick to understand it, but he does! He will arrive, and compete, for his brother. But sister, he will win, for you! He loves you, for goodness sakes, you just can't believe it!" And with that furious statement, Urmila folded her arms across her chest, counting the stars until she slept.

Sita turned right back to the moon, sniffling as the cold finally got to her, and slowly wrapping the blanket around herself so as to not alert Urmila, who had fallen asleep. As she stared back at the sky, a single silvery tear fell from her eye, and Ram's at the same time, as they both admired the moon from the balconies.

~

"Oh, cheer up Sita!" cried Mandavi, dancing around her sister excitedly as she put a large, golden earring in her ear. Sita flicked a tear away from her cheek and smiled. Shrutakirti put some red color on her large lips as Urmila worked on applying some kohl around her eyes to make them look larger.

"Hmm, do you think the dark red dupatta, or the light green one?" asked Mandavi, raising both up. "The dark one has pretty embroidery, but the light has little mini diamonds and mirrors! Which one?" Sita looked up, smiled, and pointed towards the green. The same color as Ram's angavastram. Urmila winced, but continued applying the kohl.