The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Unhealthy Competitiveness Part 2

        Ram stood in front of the bow, staring at it with respect. This weapon belonged to Lord Shiv, and thus, he held it in high regard. And then, he brought his hands together in prayer. The kings stared at him disbelievingly as he put all of his strength into praying. With another glance towards the veil, where, if he squinted, he could make out Sita's figure, he turned towards the bow.

It truly looked grand, large, beautiful, and was made of smooth wood, its engravings filled with gold and precious metals. It reminded him of the bow he had in Gurukul, the one that the two boys had broken. He winced when remembering it, remembering his outburst at poor Laksh, and Sita spotted that tiny, involuntary movement.

What if he thought it was too hard? What if he decided to just give up? What if he was staring at it, and decided it wasn't worth the humiliation that he would get if he couldn't lift it up? What if- but no. These thoughts, if they had travelled through his head, went in one ear and out the other, did not affect his goal, and he reached down, and slid his hands under the bow.

It was light as a feather! Ram could lift it with no trouble, and held it in the air in disbelief for a second as the other kings stared, jaws dropped. He didn't even look like he was trying, like it was hard to lift the bow. Lakshman did not gape. He knew that Ram would be able to lift it! Now for the easier part, the stringing of the bow.

As Ram set the bow down with a thud, the only reminder of how heavy it was for the regular mortals, Sita began to pray hard again. If he could string it, if he was able to win this competition, she was saved, she would marry the man of her choice, the man she had fallen in love with! Ram grabbed the string of the bow, and began to pull it up.

The court took an entire deep breath as he pulled the top of the bow and the string closer to each other. Heart rates went erratic, especially Sita's. There was only one tiny problem. The string was too small to reach up. Ram frowned for a second, and then began to bend the bow itself, and it moved to his will like a springy tree sapling, still flexible, not rigid like its older counterparts.

"How is he doing it?" Mandavi whispered to Urmila, staring at the bending bow wonderingly. "How did he lift it when even Ravan couldn't?" Urmila thought about it for a second, before answering wisely.

"He respected the bow, did not see it as an opponent. He prayed before he lifted it, as not to offend Lord Shiv. He is good, pure, and loves our Sita not for her beauty, but for her kind personality. It is like Mother said. Only the purest, noblest of them all will be able to lift the dhanush. Everyone else will fail. Only someone of the caliber of our Sita would even come close to stringing it."

Ram continued bending it, but the string wouldn't stretch anymore. He pulled it with one last, mighty tug, and the bow snapped. It splintered with a single protesting groan, little pieces flying everywhere, and there Ram stood, helpless, turning towards Raja Janak, who stood there, enveloped in shock, with an apologetic grimace.

"Er-I'm sorry!" Hanging his head, he went to sit back in his throne, but Janak, once recovering from the welcomed surprise, with the energy of a young toddler, bound forward and enveloped Ram in a joyful embrace, almost suffocating him before Vishwamitra observed out loud that Ram was turning purple most interestedly.

"Wait, does that mean I've won?" Ram wheezed, leaning on Lakshman for support. Janak laughed and nodded, and his eyes popped in surprise. Suddenly, the doors of the hall flew open, revealing the clashing thunder outside, and a rishi muni walked in, his eyes large and crazed, and gripping a bow tightly.

"Who did it?" he bellowed. "Who dared break the bow of Lord Shiva and ignite the inferno of my wrath? Which one of you puny mortals disrespected Lord Shiva himself in this horrendous way, come and face me, Parashuram!" Ram stepped forward.