The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

Keeping Promises

A/N-I've written this chapter a bit like @Ramayana_lover does, with multiple scene breaks. I hope that you don't mind. I was just feeling too lazy, and am currently faced with a wall of writer's block. Or the writer's reluctance to write. Whatevah.

Yuvraj Ram of Kosala (current state: exiled) stared out of the cave, arms folded around his knees, eyes watering as the sky did not. "It's been ages, Lakshman," he said solemnly. "It's been ages since Sita disappeared. How must she be feeling, wherever she is? Perhaps that we have forgotten her? Perhaps that she is not remembered anymore? Does she know that I think about her every night before I go to sleep? Does she know that I want her back with me more than anything? Does she, Lakshman?"

Lakshman sat next to him, feet dangling over the edge, looking as alert as Ram was half asleep. "Yes, bhaiyya, she does. She is Sita bhabhi, she would know what you were feeling from kingdoms away, oceans away! She knows that you miss her terribly, and I'm sure that she misses you too. She knows, once she married you, that she would never be forgotten, never. Bhaiyya, don't doubt yourself. No one else does."

Ram bit his lip, staring out again, his eyes looking lost in the blue of the skies. "But Lakshman, I am scared. It has been days, weeks even, since the monsoon ended. The rain has completely stopped. It hasn't rained in at least a fortnight, if not more. Why isn't Sugriv fulfilling his promise? Why isn't he doing as I asked? Why isn't he following our alliance guidelines? Where are his monkeys who search for Sita? Where are they? Where?"

Ram turned towards Lakshman, clasping his hands together so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but Ram did not flinch. "Remember, as we were departing Kishkindha, right before the rainy season started, you said something. "I don't trust Sugriv". I immediately dismissed you! But now I wonder, should I have listened to you? Sugriv, the King I considered to be my friend, is he betraying my trust? Should I have indeed asked Vali for help? Everything would have been done much faster! By this time, we would be back in Panchavati, back in our hut, back to living our lives."

Ram looked up at the clouds. They were white and fluffy, so unlike what they had been before in the season. "Go, Lakshman, and remind them what they had promised. Remind the great Raja Sugriv to fulfill the promise he made to the man that allowed him the ascension to the throne. Tell Sugriv to fulfill the promise that he has, perhaps forgotten."

----O----

Whatever Kishkindha was expecting, it certainly was not an angry Lakshman storming closer and closer to the gate. This time, it wasn't normal, he truly was angry. Angad was the first to notice, and with wide eyes, went scampering off to tell Sugriv, who was resting leisurely on a large bed, drunken with red wine and grapes, and all the luxuries and beautiful women surrounding him.

Sugriv, having spent so much time in the certainly not very luxurious Rishyamukha, was trying to spend all of his time as he felt the rightful king of Kishkindha should. He paraded along with many women, had servants who would follow his every whim, wine glasses surrounding him, laying leisurely on the floors with blankets and beds, had palanquins and divans built just for him, and occasionally ran through the royal treasury.

So, it was safe to say that indeed as Ram had said, Sugriv had forgotten his promise. Most unwisely, considering that there was a very angry young man storming towards the gates of his very vulnerable kingdom. Angad, however, seemed urgent, and scampered over near Surgiv's chaise longue, poking his arm. "Sir, sir! Lakshman sir is at the gates, and he is not happy! Sir, come quickly!"

Sugriv looked up drowsily, still very much soaked and drunk in wine. "Why would he? That is a stout disobeyal of our alliance!" If Angad could face palm in front of the king, he would. "Why would he do that? That's terrible! Just-just-do something" he mumbled before fainting again, rolling over in his bed, covering himself with his blankets and rolling around, smashing his head into his pillow forlornly.