The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

The Farewell

Peasant's clothes. She was wearing peasant's clothes. That was all Ram could think as Sita stepped out of the luxurious bathroom and back into their large chambers. Peasant's clothes, thin, easily worn out, rough, and orange. Somehow, she still looked beautiful all the same in them, and Ram wiped away a tear. She would look like the loveliest maiden that ever lived in absolutely anything, but that didn't mean that she should not wear jewels and silks.

Ram looked down at himself. He too was wearing peasant clothes, but didn't mind it much. Thank goodness. It would be a little sad if he was stuck wearing an itchy, scratchy potato sack for fourteen years. Not that he would complain, beggars couldn't be choosers, and he was not a beggar either. It was, truly, his honor to fulfill his father's promise, but as he looked up at Sita's face again, he could feel guilt surging up his spine. It was not Sita's.

"What are you thinking, Raghav, as you wipe away those tears?" wondered Sita as she took off the last of her golden earring, placing them on her nightstand. "Are you crying because you leave behind this palace where you have grown up in, and all of its luxuries? Or the lovely views that you are granted from these windows? Or perhaps that crown that you now lack? Tell me, and I will make sure that it is present when we go to Chitrakoot."

She was speaking so serenely, so calmly, it was as if they were merely moving for a while and he would be homesick. It was not the luxury, nor the home, nor the views, not even his crown, which he had most sadly put away. It was none of that. "You. It is you." Ram whispered. "You look lovely in that clothing, but so bare! I-it-you! You should have gold and silver and jewels and..." he trailed off helplessly.

"But what is gold and silver and jewels if you are not there to put them on me?" asked SIta, tilting her head. "What is anything if you are not there to share it with? Raghav, you are my husband, my dearest love. You may not be able to get me jewels, but the times we spend together are worth much more than jewels! If you were exiled, and forced me to stay back, I would walk around in the same clothing as I wear right now. But good fortunes are looking upon me! Not only can I wear my favorite color, but I can spend fourteen years peacefully with you." Sita smiled, placing the last of her anklets away.

"I would have felt incomplete in that forest, without you." Ram admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Even if the entire kingdom followed me into Chitrakoot, my loneliness would be terrible. Even if the entire world followed me, if you weren't part of it, then their sacrifice would be in vain. All I need is you, in that forest, with me." Sita beamed at him and stepped forward, folding her hands together respectfully.

"Well, then, let us go! Let us take our blessings, and let us go write a new chapter in the book of our intertwined lives." Ram smiled back at her, and they stepped out of the room the last time, in a long, long time. Neither of them looked back, to dart their eyes around the silk bed sheets, or the jewelry, or the marble tiled floors.

Step for step, Sita followed Ram. Ram's eyes drank in the sight of the hallways. The paintings, which all seemed to regard the couple sadly. The vibrant colored flowers which sat on the vases which lined the tables on the hallways withered when they saw the back of Sita. Ram and Sita's footprints somehow pressed into the marble, as if it wanted to remember her and Ram until they returned. The rooms were empty. No one would work when the light of their lives left the palace.

Ram took a deep breath. It was surreal, the fact that he would be leaving the place where he grew up. Ever since he first could walk, all he could dream of was a life that was centered in the palace. He would grow up, marry, become king, and watch his sons, and possibly daughters, grow up in the same palace as him, and then he would die. All in the castle of Ayodhya. It was as if this shining palace was the sun, and he was a planet circling it dutifully.