The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

I might have been joking when I said this era would be SiRA

Lakshman stared at the sky. It was so blue. It was so completely terrifyingly blue that he thought that he might be dreaming. It wasn't stormy gray, no, and he could barely see a cloud. He would have liked the look of a cloud, a small, white fluffy one, traveling across the sky, just one of many. It would have made him feel a little less alone, walking through the thick forest, searching...searching.

Normally, the clouds were gray. They were thick, wall clouds, heavy with rain. Maa Kaushalya often told the story of how, when he was born, hundred of stormy gray clouds had come to greet him. Lightning flashed from the skies, and farmers ran off of their land as rain seemed ready to fall. Once his first cry had rung into the air, immediately the clouds scattered, leading to fluffy white ones and blue skies. It was the first time in years that Ayodhya had seen a white cloud.

Lakshman always hated storms. He felt like they were his personal enemy. Ram bhaiyya didn't feel like he was anyone's enemy. He simply went along with his life. Bharat bhaiyya loved storms! He loved to sit at his window, take out his brushes, dip them in some blues and grays, and paint the most terrible storm there ever was! Sometimes, he would add some specks of red for a nice touch.

Shatrughan-Shatrughan hated them as well. It felt weird acknowledging that, acknowledging that they were similar indeed. Lakshman did not blame his sole younger brother for feeling unloved by him. He tried to show his love, truly, with caring glances, to trying to set him up with Shrutakirti, to celebrating when he was marrying. Shatrughan understood that, he realized that, Lakshman saw it in his eyes.

But that didn't stop his guilt. Thank goodness God had only given him one younger brother, Lakshman shuddered to think at the disaster that would have happened if he had more. It had been so many ages, so many eternities since he had been in the palace, wasn't it? Years, years upon years, now it had been five. Now he was just here, roaming through this forest, searching, searching, searching.

What was he searching for again? Lakshman blinked, looking around. That was right! He was out hunting! Sita bhabhi had banished him from the hut on a hunting trip, and he knew why. Of course! Occasionally, Ram bhaiyya and Sita bhabhi liked to have something that Shatrughan liked to call "a date". He knew it had to be something romantic, something all lovey dovey for the both of them. Lakshman shuddered.

He had gotten over it. Though he still loved Urmila, and missed her sometimes, his every thought and every feeling was not plagued by pining. He knew that hers were not either. There was plenty to do for her, back in the palace. And there was plenty for him to do here. Like hunting, for goodness sakes! He heard the rustle of leaves, and quickly whirled around, shooting his arrow randomly and managing to hit a deer. He breathed a sigh of relief and picked it up, placing it calmly under the tree, before plopping down himself, taking out a cloth, and wiping his sword and daggers off.

They always thought he took so long to hunt, long enough that they could have a date in the meantime. What Ram bhaiyya and Sita bhabhi did not know was that he did it on purpose, so that they could have their alone time. He had enough sense to know that he was most definitely not supposed to be there, but it felt right for him. He needed to be there, for his mother and his father. And he would try to make it as comfortable as possible for them.

Minutes, hours, passed, and finally, he heard the call. "Lakshman!" There it was. The loud shout that made his ears ring. "WHERE AAAARE YOU?" Shaking his head, Lakshman walked back with the deer on his arrow, calmly whistling, and wondering how powerful the invisible breeze was that it could rattle the tree branches, large and thick, upon where Jatayu sat, lightly slumbering.

Ram's heart raced as he couldn't hear a single thing. He turned back towards Sita, who shrugged. It was a nice date, they had talked about many things over lunch. They had talked about Bharat. Ram always wished that Bharat would take the throne, as it was rightfully his, second in line as he was. But no, Bharat had just taken his sandals, and claimed that he was going to put them where his feet would have rested.