The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

False Sense of Security

Now that the supposed "main" danger had been killed, all fourteen thousands plus two of them, Ram, Sita, and Lakshman were a bit more settled. They were counting down the days; every single sunrise, Sita made a small notch in the mud walls. Ram noticed, but didn't say anything, eager himself to go back to Ayodhya. The days were spent harvesting berries, cooking, and cleaning for Sita.

Sita always loved to cook. She was not like Mandavi, who wanted to learn only after marrying, but was terrible at it. She wasn't like Urmila, who hated to cook, and hated to eat, and couldn't understand how Lakshman loved food so very much. And she definitely was not like Shrutakirti, who knew how to cook, but would always prefer eating, whereas Sita found her greatest pleasures in seeing the content of others eating her own food.

Sita stood at the doorway of the hut, looking off into the distance. She was happy that Ram and Lakshman ate, but she never saw Lakshman eat. The food just disappeared every single day, and she found it quite disturbing. It wasn't as if they didn't tell him to eat! Every day, Ram handed him something and said "Here, Laksh. Take this." And he took it, and presumably, he ate it. But never with them, he didn't!

Now he was missing somewhere as Ram worked on dusting off his bow and arrow, sitting with one leg tucked under the other on the mud porch. Sita glanced at him uneasily, but he just continued to sharpen his arrows. Arrows, arrows, arrows. Sita chuckled to herself, worries about her brother-in-law wafting away like aromas. Once a warrior, always a warrior. He would never let go of his arrows.

Sita put one hand on her forehead as she heard footsteps, and Ram too looked up, his hand tightening on his bow. Rustling of leaves, but thankfully, the branches were pushed aside by a fair hand, a most certainly mortal, human hand, and a very familiar man stepped out. Sita exhaled a soft puff of air and sat down next to him as Lakshman walked in, head bowed down somewhat somberly.

Ram tracked his footsteps as he walked back towards the house and looked up at his face as Lakshman plopped down, taking a deep breath as, for once, the sun hid behind the clouds to allow the third prince some shade. "I let the deer go," he breathed, speaking of the deer that Sita had practically adopted. "It needed to live with its herd, with its own, it would have been too spoiled with us."

Sita wiped away a single tear and continued with her knitting. She too had accepted it, but that didn't make the pain any less. She took a deep sniffle and continued to weave as Ram gave her a tight side hug and Lakshman continued to stare at the sky as if he was about to reach up to it and grab something right out of the heavens. She too looked up, as well as Ram, who was content with the peace after the bloodshed what felt like just yesterday.

"I wonder how Ayodhya will react when we return, in nine months," Sita murmured as she continued her knitting while staring off into the distance dreamily. Ram followed her gaze and saw the very tips of the flame that Maa Kaikeyi always liked to keep kindled at the very top of the large palace. "Decorations? Food? Celebrations? Lights?" Ram shrugged and turned back to his arrows. "I wonder how my family will react. My brothers and my mothers and my sisters-" Ram quickly glanced at her with wide eyes, and Sita clapped a hand on her mouth.

But the damage was done, and exchanging a look, both turned to observe Lakshman. He didn't seem troubled, or trembling. He just smiled weakly back at them before stretching and getting up again, rolling his shoulders. "I-I'll collect the firewood for today." He peered off into the distance. "It's a great day too. No rain, no storms. I will be back before the night settles so that we can finally have some dry kindling." He shrugged.

Ram immediately stood up. "It's a sunny day!" he called as Lakshman began to walk away. "It's a sunny day, you should stay!" Ram rolled his eyes as Lakshman turned around to face him again, this time walking backwards, and stuck his tongue out of his mouth tauntingly, before running into the forest. "Sometimes he acts so childish," Ram grumbled to Sita, who had been laughing at the entire escapade. If only he could, if only they all could for the rest of their exile. But that was not to be.