The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Yato Dharmastato Jaya: Where Victory Lies

When he stared into the horizon where Lanka's skyline was visible ever so clearly to his eyes, it was only then that he even felt a pang of regret. Lanka was a splendorous city, as if the Gods themselves looked upon it with kindness, had touched it with their blessings. From the hands of the divine architect, the buildings had risen, their golden shells glinting in the dawn light like a city in heaven.

But Ram knew better than anyone else that it wasn't the Gods that made the dome of Lanka shine with such beauty. It was the riches and spoils of war that Ravan had gained from doing adharma. It was the product of the evil desires and vanity that Ravan possessed. That shining gold was the adornment that Ram had left behind in Ayodhya.

Lanka was a beautiful place from the outside, no doubt. But the beauty village was not solely made up of lifeless buildings and meaningless monuments. Lanka was a beautiful place from the outside, no doubt. But the beauty of a village was not solely made up of lifeless buildings and meaningless monuments. 

The people made up the place they lived in, and Lanka was the harborer of rakshasas, beings that wouldn't think twice about killing men, women, and children in cold blood. The devil always looked tempting, seductive to the eye, but the true evil was always visible when one came closer. Maybe that was the appeal of Lanka.

He felt cleansed. He, who had not a single adornment on his body. He, who had willingly left behind all of his birth titles. He, who dressed in the orange color of a sage. He, who carried nothing but the clothes on his back and the bow on his shoulder. He, the lord of sacrifice, the protector of dharma, would battle against Lankapati Ravan, the picture of wealth, and he would win.

The person who fought would not be the Yuvraj Ram from Ayodhya, but the Ram from Chitrakut, who had left behind his Earthly pleasures to complete his dharma, and was thus the exact opposite of Ravan.

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

The fire crackled comfortingly as Ram stared into it. The warmth touched his face with a gentleness he had not felt since he last saw Sita. Sita. What an arrangement of events that the event of Maa Kaikeyi saving his father so long ago would lead to this. 

But then, Ram thought. It really isn't that surprising. It must have been his duty in life to eliminate the likes of Ravan from this Earth. Everything had aligned ever so perfectly for him to be able to accomplish this task.

From getting the devotion of beings like Hanuman, who would never waver from his command, to the alliance he had with Sugriv, the faithful King of Monkeys. Having warriors whose dedication to his purpose seemingly came out of nowhere like Nal and Neel, and those as understanding and oriented towards dharma like Angad. 

Gaining a man on his side like the righteous Vibhishan. Maybe even having his brother, Lakshman, to kill Indrajit and allow them to isolate Ravan, was just another gift from heaven.

Now that he thought about it, his entire life had been leading up to this moment. The war had raged on that day with no sight of Ravan in his mighty chariot. But they had killed off the last of Ravan's courtiers, Veeru and Tridanta, and now only Lankapati himself remained. Ram wondered what it was like, sitting down in his court, alone, staring at all those empty chairs. It must have been how helpless he felt when Sita was abducted.

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

Ravan never really had that much trust in Veeru and Tridanta, but they were the last men he had left, and his last stand against Ram's army. Now they were dead too, and with them, the last of the men in his court. The silence left in their wake was louder than their shouts of rage on the battlefield, and fleetingly, Ravan almost felt an appreciation for the warriors he had sacrificed in his endless quest of greed.