Ramyana OS

The Night of Doom ( ft Lakshman)

Silence of the battlefield, silence of the night
Screaming woes of a brother's plight

Tear stained face and blood soaked saffron
Ferries the lament for a warrior fallen

Souls so intertwined, appear one from afar
Life or death, a tug of war

Bathed in the treacherous moonlight, it so happens
Cradled in Ram's embrace, Lakhan closes his eyes for the first time in fourteen annums...

* * *

Shock was his initial reaction, as Shakrajit's spear, infused with black magic pierced his chest tearing through skin, flesh and muscle alike.
He stood rooted to the spot, numb as his foe cackled evilly, eyes feasting on Ramanuj's condition.
Thunder split the skies and tremors shook the earth as the horrible event came to be.

Pain. Pain was what followed shock for Lakshman. Pain like he had never felt before. Pain worse than a hundred wounds, a thousand paper cuts and horrible burns.

Blood gushed out in volumes from where the spear pierced him, sticking out of his body, only the hilt visible to him, mocking him and marking his defeat. Lakshman had great pain resistance, but this exceeded any agony he had ever felt.

The mighty warrior stumbled back, bow dropped to the ground. Hands raised to weakly grasp at the hilt returned stained a deep crimson. Crimson like Ram bhaiya's tilak. Crimson like Urmila's sindoor. Crimson like Sumitra's favourite saree.
Crimson like the ruby on Dasharath's crown.
He fell back, body forming a perfect arc as he hit the ground. His skin was on fire. The death spear had made it's mark and was establishing it's effect.

The agony dimmed for the third prince as darkness clutched at his consciousness. Pulling, snatching and finally managing to take him with it.
"Ram bhaiya"
The words mere clouds of dust as they left his mouth as his head dropped to the ground, the sand of the battlefield cradling him.

* * *

Lakshman awoke to a sense of peace cloaking his very being. A rest that he hadn't known he needed. But realization set in too soon. He grasped at his chest for the wound and waited for the horrible pain to to radiate through him. But nothing happened.

That's when he chose to look around at his surroundings. What he saw wasn't Lanka, neither was it the battlefield or any army, only thing similar to his earlier location was the sea, gently lapping at his feet.

It was a beautiful landscape. The sea stretched out wide and as far as the eye could see, waves were gentle and created a soft lapping sound that was music to his ears and water pleasantly cool and clear, serving as a mirror to the sky, reflecting the moon that was shining bright.

He smiled. The gentle sea reminded him so much of his Urmila. Soft yet bubbly, calm yet short tempered. He heard her laughter in the sound of the water. Her deep love for him, in it's unseeing depths. The way her arms wrapped around him, impersonating the cool water whenever he was angry. And lastly her eyes that brimmed with the same salty water that lay in an expanse before him. He sighed as her image flashed in front of him, etched onto his heart.

A cool breeze brought him out of his reverie. He shifted and looked around where he was seated and frowned in confusion. Grass, where there should have been nothing but sand. He dug his hands onto the earth, the ground gave away. It was not sandy like the seashore, but earthy, like the fields. There were colourful plants everywhere, so bright he could make them out even at night. He lips curved into a smile as he sought solace in the greenery. It reminded him a lot of his bhabhi maa Sita. Gentle, kind, loving, like mother earth. Spreading fragrance of her goodness everywhere just like the flowers. And taking up the role of his mother so effortlessly, it amazed him. The rustle of the leaves just like her sweet voice, telling him not to worry, and that she and Ram bhaiya were alright. Everything would be alright.