The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

I am Coming Along-Part 2

Flashback

It was the day before the wedding. Lakshman blinked as he returned to his room from the balcony. Ram bhaiyya was brooding, he knew, deeply sorrowful, or ashamed. His eyes seemed so tired, like old man eyes, even though he was quite a young person. His eyes reminded him of one of the war generals; so conflicted and troubled.

Conflicted and Troubled. That could describe his mind at the moment. He had pledged celibacy, hadn't he? Yes, it was so he could dedicate all of his energies to serving Ram bhaiyya. He had thought that since his childhood, he had made a promise to himself. But, recently, once he had met his soon to be wife, he had come up with another reason.

Reason, his mind was always good at reasoning. Finding other justifications for his actions; a good reason for why he was so good at arguing. Why should he confine a good, honest lady to the knowledge that she was not her husband's first priority? And why should he especially do such a horrible, cruel, unexplainable, terrible thing, to a princess so pious and good such as Urmila?

Urmila, Urmila, Urmila. All he could think of was her face. Her milky white skin. Her long, dark hair. Her large smile. Her doe-like eyes. She had such a good mind, such a pious soul. Her words could be cutting and sharp, or delicate and light. Everything she spoke with was passionate, and she was as dedicated to her sister as he was to his brother. Yes, Lakshman knew that he was very much in love with her. Ah, curse this love!

Love, he knew, was the reason he was marrying. The reason he was doing this to her. It was not justified, not at all! There was no good argument for his decision to marry. To betray the promise he made to himself, that day back in his childhood. Lakshman collapsed into a chair. How could he possibly be so selfish?

Selfish. He was so selfish that he decided to betray his own promises. Something just clicked in his mind, and a smile spread across his face, uncontrollable and uninvited, when he thought about marriage, specifically, to Urmila. Yes, he decided. He would marry.

Present

Such foolish thoughts. Such a foolish decision. Lakshman reached the doorway of his-no their-room. But soon, it was to be neither his, nor theirs, but only hers. He traced a hand over the beautiful, aged wood of the doorframe, and a sad smile went across his face. Elm, wasn't it? Elm represented inner strength, that was what Bharat had told him. Yes, it would surely take inner strength for Urmila to get through this.

Why was her life fated to be so painful? Every breath for him was like a new shard of glass was piercing his throat. The pain was welcome. It must have been barely a fraction of what Urmila would feel once he told her that Sita, her dearest sister, too, was going along with Ram. And he, her husband, as well, following his brother blindly. He clenched his fists, wondering how she would react.

Would she burst into tears and beg him not to? Would she make sure her life was filled with sorrow? Would she slap him and respond with cynical, hurtful, sharp words? Would her temper be alighted by his careless decision? Would she react emotionlessly, blankly, blandly? Would she force herself to suffer in silence just to maintain a strong front for him? Or would she be a mix, perhaps? Lakshman didn't know, he didn't want to know. He didn't ever want to tell her. He did not want to leave her.

His trembling hand turned the knob, and Lakshman stepped into the room. Even with his first footstep, he stumbled. The carpet folded, and he barely stopped himself from falling by holding onto the wall. His face turned up slowly, wordlessly, to meet her own. Urmila looked at him in confusion, and worry, but he, again, did not say one thing, just clenched his jaw, squared his shoulders, and continued to walk in.