The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Where Men Find Dharma and Death Finds Men

Song: The King and His Sword from Baahubali: The Beginning

Where she had once seen beauty, now she saw emptiness. Where she had once seen superiority, she felt looted. A sight in which she once took pride, she now shied away from. Her hair was astray, a nest of black. Her large eyes were pearly with tears and her dark liner was smudged across her face. Large red lips quivered, before forming into a thin line, and she buried herself in her arms again.

The thick drapes were drawn across the window, but ever sly, the sunlight drew in from the gaps on the side. Large, plush divans, stitched from frime silk and embroidered with thread spun from gold, stood near the window. Large paintings hung from the high ceilings. A single chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. But in her eyes, the room was empty. The bed? Useless with no one to keep her company.

No one dared enter, no one dared reach her presence. They were all scared of her, this woman whose single gaze could obliterate any mortal, mourning within herself. Her attendants stood outside the door, but they kept no secret. Through the large, hollow hallways of the palace, they could all hear her loud, screeching sobs. Like nails scratching across the chalkboard, shrill screams ripped from her throat.

Like a reflection in a pretty pool, she saw her. Her only company. Herself, on the other side. She looked like a witch. A woman gone mad from having heard her own screams too long. A widow still dressed for husband's return. Sindoor smeared across her forehead like blood. Distraught, Sulochana stared at herself in the mirror.

In her eyes, she could see the beckoning flames dancing like a devil's vice. But their warmth invited like an angel's embrace.

-----O-----

"Stop hugging me!" Lakshman barked, crossing his arms across his chest protectively as he was ambushed from all sides by an endless assault of hugs. "No physical affection!" Angad, Nal, and Neel, deciding that Lakshman was a big, sweet golden retriever of a giant, and could barely even kill a fly, had wrapped their arms around him, sobbing about the possibility of having lost their dear potential murderer.

"That's right!" Ram said. "Stop hugging him! That's my job around here!" Indignant that he had to settle for bandaging his brother's feet instead of day-long hugs, Ram huffed and looked away. Lakshman stared at his back, confused, before throwing all three monkeys off and reaching his arms out to hug Ram. Ram turned around, excitedly, before winding around the bed to hug him properly.

A few seconds passed by as the rest of the vanar sena contemplated if they wanted to join the Raghuvanshi hug pile. Hesitantly, Lakshman brought his own heavily lacerated arms up to pat his elder brother, as Ram sniffled quietly into his hair. "This is so ridiculous," Ram chuckled through the little tears lining his eyes. "You're the one literally on bedrest because you barely survived a battle, and yet I'm the one being comforted."

Lakshman pulled back slightly, blinking. "Well, bhaiyya, I'd say that you barely survived that battle, not me." Ram smacked his shoulder slightly as Lakshman simply cracked a Shatrughan-esque smile. He turned around to see Neel staring at him with arms out and puppy dog eyes. Seconds passed as they stared at each other. Reluctantly, he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Fine, I guess you can hug me for four to five seconds."

"FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!"

"No! NO!"

"Well it's too late now to tell us! Nal, Angad! We can hug him for forty five seconds!"

-----O-----

Kaikeyi sobbed, hands muffling the sound as Kaushalya wrapped her arms around her. "My-my son," she wailed, almost curling into herself. "My son's okay. My Lakshman's okay. Oh thank the gods! Oh thank you! My sins have been forgiven! He was not punished for them! Oh Lakshman. He's okay. He's okay. My little kshatriya is okay!" It was all Kaushalya could do not to cry herself and to continue patting Kaikeyi's back.