The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

The Fire Which Outroars the Thunder

A/N-Quickly, before we start this chapter, I would just like to thank everyone for 60,000 reads. 60,000. That's me if I cloned 59,999 times. That's a lot of Mochus. And that's a lot of reads. Thank you, everybody, for somehow still being engaged with this monster of a book.

Also, before I begin, quick link to the Official Playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2RaAfcfoe2Ar1g6t6mNVkx?si=eaceb2236e5b4879

Alright, let's start the beginning of the end of the (extremely long) Yudh Kand.

Song of the chapter: Kasumbi from Parmanu

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"We are all born on the Earth to do something. You will know when that something presents itself. There will be some calling echoing in your head, some desperate voice begging for your attention, a nudge or a full-out push into the conflict. But remember, never lose yourself. You are the key to your own success. Always remember your name, Lakshman."

Lakshman. Lakshman. Lakshman. Lakshman blinked multiple times, feeling someone, something calling to him. It was a murky voice, as if being held under water. It was a shredded arm reaching towards him. It was the muffled light of victory guiding him through the ragged jungle of difficulty. Lakshman gripped his bow, slinging it over his shoulder. He was determined to follow this beckon.

When he was a baby, Lakshman recalled his first word. It was a cry for his Ram bhaiyya when he tripped on the hallways and scraped his knee. He remembered the thought process that had led to the name reaching his lips. The mouth motion Maa Kaushalya made when calling to his elder brother. He simply mimicked her, in a time of desperation, not even knowing what he did, and lo! His Ram bhaiyya showed up!

He always followed Ram bhaiyya blindly, just like that first call. He wasn't quite aware of what he was doing, but just knew that it was right. If Ram bhaiyya told him to jump off a cliff, he would do so, knowing that it was for the good. Someone's good. That was what he was about.

He felt as if he was going to do something very different now. This wasn't a venture he was walking into blindly. He could sense the path that had been paved for him. The plan he was to follow. Every single consequence of his actions registered in his brain. It wasn't a motion he was blindly copying. It was years of training and injuries and getting back up again. It was his moment of reckoning.

And Lakshman certainly felt reckoned.

He felt the scrutinizing eyes of the Gods above eying him. He felt his father's gaze upon the top of his (high) head as he calmly threw some arrows randomly into his quiver. It must have been judgmental. Dashrath always told him to prepare properly, or prepare to forfeit. But Dashrath, in all his preparation, was not quite ready for his own moment of reckoning. Lakshman felt that perhaps a little winging it wouldn't hurt among all this self confidence.

He heard the gentle pattering footsteps before he saw them. Hanuman walked in, mace ready in the crook of his elbow. "Are you ready, Lakshman bhaiyya?"

Lakshman felt a lot of things. He felt anticipatory, eager, and ever slightly nauseous. He felt the familiar devil of war blossom in him. He felt his heart beating at the surface of his chest, ready to burst out. He was feeling reckoned and beckoned, and the motivation not to score second in a battle where one could only ever be first.

But, if there was some person writing about him and his thoughts, there was only one thing worth knowing. Lakshman felt ready.

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