The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Indra's Last Laugh

Song of the Chapter- Bolo Har Har Har from Shivaay

When Lakshman stared at Indrajit, he felt something hard hit him in the stomach. He thought it was the feeling of fate, slamming him hard, but apparently it was a large, sharp rock that Indrajit had thrown at him to distract him. Lakshman hadn't intended to kill the rakshas while he was defenseless (he wasn't Ravan), so he thought the effort was useless, especially since he wasn't exactly using his stomach to shoot arrows.

"Lakshman bhaiyya! Are you okay?" Hanuman cried, hastening his pace to diagnose Lakshman's wound. Lakshman waved him off calmly. Just a couple of scratches? What, did Indrajit think that would hurt him at all? Well, of course he did, because Indrajit probably whined at the smallest of papercuts. Lakshman huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The sheer audacity just stunned him each time.

"Yes, yes I'm fine." He sighed, shaking his head. "But I bet Meghnad's run off to cry to his mother about how he's being bullied by me. He's all bark and, like, absolutely no bite! Just like the thunder clouds he's named after. What do thunder clouds do? Nothing. They just rumble like they have bad digestion or something. Yeah, we get it. You had way too many hajmolas. Shut up and be on your way."

"Speaking of being on his way, where is Meghnad?" Vibhishan muttered. The army and the three men who stood at the front all looked around. All they could see, anywhere near or far, was smoke. Thick, heavy smoke that loomed in the air like clouds that shielded Meghnad from the piercing glare he had been impaled with, that hid him from the thing he refused to acknowledge; his own cowardliness.

But from above, from the red powder that dusted the air faintly and painted the cave walls, emerged a golden chariot. It floated, bobbing up and down, five meters above the floors, many meters away from the army and the angry man who surveyed it.

 Indrajit laughed from inside it, one hand placed on the front of the mobile, and the other situated arrogantly on his thigh. "What, you thought you could surprise me?" he cackled.

Lakshman rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw, stepping in front of Hanuman and Vibhishan. "You know, instead of this entire evil prince schnadig, you should join some talent shows. You changed from coward to prince pretending he's not a coward real fast. How much effort does it take, pretending to be all this mighty when you rely upon your abilities to pop out of midair like a mosquito?"

Indrajit narrowed his eyes. "You talk about my skill of illusions as if you have any yourself! Don't forget, hermit, that my ability to make everyone believe something that isn't real is a mastery of its own! If I can beat you with it, then that's a victory in battle! Don't consider yourself so high and mighty when you aren't! Besides, I really got you with that dead Sita thing, didn't I? You weren't so smug then."

"You speak," Lakshman laughed. "As if this was a battle of cowardliness and arrogance. I'm sure, in that case, you would win without doubt! But this isn't, and you know that very well. Isn't that why, in desperation, you were kneeling before your goddess. 'Oh Mata! Save me please!' Crying like a little child." 

He leaned in with a sadistic smile. "Because you don't know how to win in a fair battle. No mummy to save you from karma, is there?"

Indrajit opened his mouth, but Lakshman was still going. "When you hurt me and Ram bhaiyya, we accepted our fate, didn't we? Didn't appeal to the Gods for life, didn't beg anyone. But now, once it's your turn, here you are, holed up in your goth cave, throwing vermillion in every direction like a blushing bride. Instead of resorting to violence, you've resorted to insanity! You won a battle against Indra, and since then, have you been taking a little break? Well, Maa always told me that practice is perfect, and it seems you've lost your streak now."