The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Illusions-Part 1

"Everything is an illusion till it becomes reality. Remember, if you are ever unsure, just remember that if you can imagine it happening, it can happen. Every illusion has a possibility, a chance, to become true. Do not let it grasp that opportunity, for if it does, it's inevitable."

Meghnad kneeled in front of Ravan. His silver chest was breathing heavily, in and out. In and out. Ravan stared at his son, his only remaining son, from his throne way up above. He stroked his solid gold armrest thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling, as Meghnad's eyes darted around. Ravan seemed to be thinking very deeply about something, his mustache drooping slightly as his lips protrude from his mouth unintentionally.

Just as Meghnad was about to utter a strained papa from his uncomfortable position, spiked knee-protectors digging into his leg, Ravan hummed, and his son decided that it was better to just stay silent. "Indrajit," he said, and Indrajit looked up in relief. "Rise, son." Indrajit did so, pretending coolly as if he could have stayed in that position for eternity later (which he would have, if Ravan truly insisted upon it). "Go, make me proud."

Indrajit stood up, beaming widely. "Nothing but, father."

-----O------

They were like wrestlers analyzing their newest competition. Sugriv paced back and forth, his muscles still shining. (NEWS BREAK-the Sugrivavirus has mutated! ALL MONKEY LOVING LADIES BEWARE!). Behind him, Angad stretched his club behind his broad chest. Mainda and Dwivida fist-bumped. Rishabha was busy ripping a rakshas apart, but let's pretend he was showing the same spirit.

Ram and Jambavan were still inside the tent. Lakshman stood outside, however, sharpening his dagger. Nal and Neel were trying to distract him. "Oh lookie! Someone insulting Prabhu Shri Ram!" Neel shrieked, and Nal jumped up and down, hooting. Lakshman did nothing but snort. Neel paused, shaking his head. "People just don't respect him these days, do they?"

Lakshman looked up, raising an eyebrow. "If someone was insulting Ram bhaiyya, their head would be in Hanuman's hands, either ripped off, or about to be. Ram bhaiyya doesn't need me protecting his integrity." Nal glanced sadly at Neel, and the pair walked away. Angad glanced at the situation worriedly, but as soon as Lakshman went back to his dagger, the Crown Prince went back to his club wringing.

----O----

The rakshas army was just as challenging as always, as to say, not at all. Hanuman, with a roar, jumped atop one legion leader, slamming his magnamious fists upon the poor devil. Loud footsteps echoed behind him, and the monkey looked up. Another shrieked, and pointed behind him, where a rakshas charged towards the son of the wind with his long spear showing. Everything seemed over for Hanuman, having killed so many, and then being speared by some lousy 3rd class demon.

However, the monkey ducked, whirled around by the upper waist, grasping the long spear and twisting it into a knot. The other end was used to successfully kill the demon with his own weapon. A classic trick. It was unnerving to know that whenever a demon was shown dead by anything but fists, rocks, or strangulation, that their method of death was probably wrenched out of their own hands. Ram rubbed his eyes as he watched through the translucent cloth of the tent in a small time of silence between him and the Yuvraj of Lanka.

Angad fought like a whirlwind; he, along with Neel and Nal, rushed through the army like three identical cyclones. The moment someone tried to wound him, they were found lying dead on the ground in seconds, flat. Neel and Nal acted like twins. One time, a demon tried to kill them with a club to the head. Neel jumped like a whack a mole, and Nal actually whacked the demon. Perfect combo.

Sugriv was somewhere along the way, killing rakshasas by use of either brute force, such as wrestling, choking, pushing to the ground and stomping, and other such techniques. He also used the mace and pushed them onto waiting swords, or underneath flying boulders, or into the way of their own archers. His predominant, and most lethal technique, was blinding them with his oiled muscles, his sun kissed skin shining, and collecting thousands of hearts along the way.