The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

They Both Die at the End

"It is never the one who commands attention who is the mightiest, but the one who fights in the background. The one who fights in the background is not challenged, and thus grows stronger until he is the true king. Never underestimate those who do not immediately rise to the pedestal. They simply do not wish to dirty their boots with something that means absolutely nothing."

Sugriv's face was covered with brown mud, and in the crook of his elbow was the largest mace anyone had ever seen, mace not of flimsy gold, but wrought, it seemed, from dark iron. His large chest heaved as he stood in front of the rakshas on a horse. He had exchanged his King's crown for a smaller, warrior's one, which shone in the dusty afternoon as sweat trailed down, dropping down from his chin and making a track down his neck in the boiling heat.

Mightier than Angad. Fiercer than Rishabha and Mainda. Greater than Dwivida and Jambavan. This was the true King of the Vanars, the true King of Kishkindha. Ravan would not dare discredit this Sugriv, this Sugriv who seemed eerily similar to Vali, short hair plastered to his golden forehead, muscles shining in the heavy sunlight. He was graced by Surya, almost as if floating on the light particles. He looked like a warrior sent down from Heaven.

Kumbha's eyes widened, and even his horse seemed to slink away from the newest vanar. Sugriv raised a single brow, eying the enemy who seemed to have felled even his nephew (who had defeated Meghnad, if y'all irrelevant demons forgot). Built lean and tall like Ravan, the demon who stood before him seemed nothing special. Then again, at first, the great king of the demons looked like a young, lazy grandfather, or a corrupt banker.

Then again, maybe he was just that, a lazy pot bellied man who had to resort to magic and trickery to even get past a human. But Sugriv did not underestimate anyone. Kumbha had a mighty bow. Sugriv dropped his mace, grinning. It was not a normal smile, which he would exchange with his generals and close friends. This smile, the sharp fangs bared that could cut straight through the neck, was the reason so many considered a monkey smiling, a hostile act.

"You act all high and mighty sitting upon your white horse like a fairytale hero. Who is the villain you plan to defeat to gain your princess?" Sugriv asked. "You hold your bow like a child protective over his toys. And that's what it is, isn't it? A simple toy, and a tantrum throwing child clutching onto it. You think you've defeated my men, but you, who uses toys to gain your means, have done nothing. True power is shown hand to hand. Are you strong enough?" Sugriv stepped back, flexing his arm. (Back in Kishkindha, many women fainted for no particular reason. Welcome to the Sugrivavirus! All females: beware!)

Kumbha glared at Sugriv with such an intensity that even his own horse was scared, rearing back. But the demon, instead of falling back, grasped the leather reins with nimble skill, and leapt off of his mount as it was in mid-air. Sugriv pretended to be mockingly impressed, whistling and clapping his hands slowly. "Wow. What other tricks can this child do?" he asked, looking off into the distance as Kumbha approached.

Kumbha growled, walking towards Sugriv with great paces as Sugriv put his hands in front of himself as if to embrace the son of Kumbhakaran, and with a cunning smirk, wiggled his fingers. Bring it on, he meant to say, but all Kumbha could discern (being dumb) was that Sugriv was taunting him. And so the demon responded with reasonableness when being provoked by an extremely muscled Demi-God. He allowed himself to be baited. (Okay, so maybe not. I would have, I dunno, RUN THE OPPOSITE WAY).

The two greats locked hands, pushing each other across the loose dust of the battlefield. Their muscles stood out from their golden bodies like tree roots, veins pulsing loudly, hearts beating so angrily, each felt that the other could hear them. They pushed each other around like this, Kumbha grunting as Sugriv was pushed back a few feet, and both let go, the latter wiping a bead of sweat off his lip gracefully before they both rushed towards each other, hands outstretched, palms meeting again as they canceled out each other's force.