The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Delays, Departures, and Turbulence

It was midday. Even the sun felt the finality of it all, its rays immense and bright, encircling Lanka in a halo. So did the seas, which slowed their churning, and the vanar sena, who stood in perfect rank, hushed. 

 The Pushpak Viman had been summoned. It stood before them now, a chariot the size of a throne room, wide open with gilded wings attached to golden rims. Ram squeezed Sita's hand, and she squeezed back. She'd been abducted in this very chariot ten months ago, but didn't feel any fear or apprehension. When she was with Ram, she couldn't. 

 Lakshman, meanwhile, eyed it with some concern. While he was glad that they weren't crossing the stone bridge again (it looked a little worse for wear after ten months), could a vehicle of Ravan's be trusted? What if there was some curse placed upon it, and the moment they got high enough, the floors just opened up on them and they fell-

 No. Nope. Not today, Lakshman.

 Vibhishan, newly crowned and robed in bright colors, emerged from a swarm of his eager subjects. "Prabhu," he said, and Ram turned, smiling as always. "Are you truly leaving us?"

 Lakshman frowned. Every minute they weren't on a route back to Kosala was a minute wasted. They had won the war. How was there still a flight delay? "Well, fourteen years have passed, so yeah-"

 "Laksh," Ram chided, and Lakshman huffed. "Vibhishanji. We are not leaving you. But dharma has been restored to Lanka, and my wife has been restored to me. The universe should fall back into place. You must be at peace in your kingdom, and I must return to mine."

 His gaze moved to Sugriv and the vanar sena. "Maharaj Sugriv. Your loyal citizens in Kishkindha await you eagerly. Ruma, your wife, must be aching to see you. The throne which you only had a few months upon is cold without you. Our homes are bare without us, my fellow men. We'll see each other again, certainly."

 Vibhishan opened his mouth again, and Lakshman quickly interrupted what he predicted was a long, futile argument. "Vibhishan sahb," he said, squinting in the sunlight. "My brother will be crowned soon. You can visit then."

 "Or now!" Hanuman cried. "We can join you now, on your return to Kosala. We, too, are your humble subjects, Shri Ram. Every empty throne will be filled once you sit upon yours. What kingdoms exist within your all-seeing gaze? What kings are there if Ayodhya's crown doesn't rest upon your head?"

 The vanar sena echoed with a canyon of cheers, that the Earth almost caved in. "You are our home, Prabhu!" Neel cried. "We never feel homesick if we are near you! Please let us come with you. Our humble eyes long to see our savior crowned!"

 "The Pushpak Viman adjusts sizes," Vibhishan added helpfully. "One size fits all type thing. Or one chariot all sizes. Or-"

 "Shhh."

 Ram looked at Sita, raising his eyebrows, and she nodded back. "Alright, then," he sighed at last, unable to conceal his smile. "If it is truly your wish, then I want to fulfill it." The gates of the Pushpak Viman swung open, and he grasped onto them. "All aboard!"

 There was a stampede until Nal and Neel brought out a set of traffic lights and neon vests, and Angad issued tickets like a customs agent at the departure gate. Lakshman rolled his eyes, moving aside to let the army form a cohesive line and flood into the chariot. As they did so, he took a final look at Lanka, his residence for the past ten months. It was charming, if he could ignore the fact that he had almost died on its golden sands. "Goodbye, Lanka," he said, and exhaled. 

 "Laksh?" Ram's voice deepened. "Are you ready?"

 "Yeah." He turned back around and climbed onto the Pushpak. "Yeah, I'm ready." He'd been ready to return the very second he left Ayodhya.