The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Two Boons

"Oh! I am so excited for my Ram's coronation, it's going to happen in a few hours, isn't it?" cried Dasharath, clasping his hands together tightly, and his face turning a bright red. "Isn't it just wonderful, Sumant?" The minister nodded graciously, folding his hands together. He did not speak up so that he would not interrupt the king by accident, however, he too wanted to jump around. It was the moment! The awaited moment that he knew he would see since the birth of the dark-skinned firstborn prince. It was the awaited moment he knew he wanted to see when the child first spoke his kind words.

"Isn't it just amazing, Kaushalya?" wondered Dasharath, turning towards his queen. Kaushalya took a deep sniffle, dabbing at the ends of her eyes with the end of her cloth. How much she had worked towards this goal. She had nurtured the child, taught him about being the king, government policies, kindness and goodness towards all. She had ensured that he would be righteous and a follower of dharma. She had given birth to him, she had dedicated blood, sweat, and tears, but Ram was all worth it. Dasharath's happiness was all worth it.

"Isn't it just fantastic, Kaikeyi, wait, where is my queen?" asked Dasharath. Sumitra's head darted up, and she looked around. Her momentary flashback of Ram's childhood and adolescence was cut off by Dasharath's worried tone. Suddenly, one of Kaikeyi's servants walked up, and whispered something in the king's ear.

"What?" asked Dasharath in awe. "She is in the sorrow room? Whatever for?" When the servant just shrugged, he turned towards his assembled courtiers, and similarly shrugged, and they shrugged back. "You must excuse me, good sirs, I need to attend to the health of my rani." He received waves and goodwills as he raced down the corridors.

There was a room in the castle used just to cry, to be filled with sorrow, to be undisturbed. Kaushalya sometimes spent time there when she saw a particularly sad play in the theatre. Ram sometimes sat there when he fought with his brothers. If Bharat ever made a mistake in his painting, he would cry there. Lakshman and Shatrughan had each gone there only once, the former because he thought expressing emotion was a waste of time, and the latter was simply too happy to cry.

All Dasharath could think of was Kaikeyi. Kaikeyi, Kaikeyi, Kaikeyi. What could possibly be troubling her? Was it the stress of seeing her son being crowned? Perhaps the banners were troubling her again, yes that was most certainly a possibility. He bumped into a servant, whose shoulder he caught. "Hey, hey, could you please decorate the banners with lotus petals, and make sure all of them are straightened?" he implored, and the servant nodded. The lotus was Kaikeyi's favorite flower.

He caught another servant. "Give me that," And he snatched away the bowl of blueberries the servant was holding. "Sorry, I'll get you another one." The servant had never expected to receive an apology from the king, and squeaked, before quickly dashing away. Dasharath turned around to stare at his back. "Hmmm, what's gotten into them these days?" he brooded, brows furrowing.

Abruptly, Kaikeyi's image popped back into his mind, and he straightened his mustache and made sure not a hair was out of place out of his immaculate beard. Kaikeyi loved order. All he wanted for her was to be happy! Yes, after she told him what was troubling him, he would immediately fix it! He would dedicate all of his thoughts towards that!

He threw open the door grandly, expecting light to be flowing through the windows and Kaikeyi to be sniffling because her "little Ramu-babu" (a nickname she had used that was practically a treasure chest to Shatrughan) was all grown up, but his entire face turned ashen, grey and pale upon the sight of his wife. The bowl of blueberries clattered to the floor, shattering into shards, and the round fruits rolled all over the slick marble floors as Dasharath dropped to his knees, hands lying on the floors.