The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

The Shy and the Bold

"Sita didi! Sita didi!" cried Mandavi, running down the halls, her anklets jingling. Suddenly, a blurry figure crossed the pathway for the stairs in front of her, and in her haste to skid to a stop, she skinned the heel of her foot. The sudden flash of pain shot up her leg as her brain froze with alarm. The abruptness of the involuntary brain freeze caused her toes to curl up under her feet, and she flew forward at the speed of light. Smack dab in the stranger's chest.

"Oof!" he grunted, taking the brunt of the fall as he stumbled back. Mandavi quickly realized the position they were in, and quickly backed away, brushing herself off. However, when she leaned back, her bleeding foot touched the cold marble of the floor, and she yelped, pulling it back up and crashing right back into Bharat.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, pushing herself off him again, being careful to not lean on her stinging foot this time, but Prince Bharat seemed more interested in her foot, which he leaned down and observed, blanching at the bleeding state of it as she also stared.

"I'm going to need to bandage and disinfect that, to make sure it doesn't get infected, of course." Mandavi nodded hesitatingly. Part of her wanted to just jut her chin out and proclaim she didn't need help, but another really wanted to get rid of these flashes of pain. Still, ever the independent, Mandavi didn't go without a fight.

"And how do you propose I walk?" she asked, hands on her hips stubbornly as Bharat looked up from her feet. "I certainly can't go around hopping on one foot!" He pondered it over for a second as Mandavi tried to not hope that he would carry her. But don't you want him to carry you? One part of her said. Another made it shut up.

"Ahem-may I?" he asked softly, and upon receiving no response from the brooding Mandavi, he grasped her shoulders and waist and lifted her up in a carry, resulting in a quiet shriek from her as her heart began to beat erratically. Swallowing hard, she nodded, and Bharat, trying not to let his blush show, began to walk down the halls slowly.

Too close, too close, too close! That was all Bharat's mind was repeatedly saying as he held Mandavi in his arms. Contrary to his thoughts, she was light as a feather! Her frown had disappeared once he had picked her up and was replaced with an uptight look and darting eyes trying to look at anywhere but him. A commendable effort, and he applauded her, but done in vain, considering her face was positioned right next to his.

Once they had reached a chair, Bharat grabbed his first-aid kit and walked up next to her, lifting her leg on his thigh and examining the cut closely, his brows furrowing together in thought as Mandavi observed him. He seemed like a very serious man when it came to serious things, but light hearted and kind. A mix, perhaps of the twins, one of whom was always serious, and the other always light-hearted. Mandavi thought of him as the perfect mix, the ideal man.

"Er, I'll have to apply some ointment. It will sting, but not too much, okay?" She nodded weakly; best let the doctor do what doctors did. He took out a small tube of herbal ointment, and pausing to look up at her face quickly, he touched her foot with a gentleness Mandavi did not associate with man.

Such a burning sensation suddenly inflamed across her foot, it was as if she had stepped into a pyre. Mandavi suddenly got up, and reached out for the nearest anything to grasp. It happened to be Bharat's comforting hand, which gave hers a squeeze. In anticipation, he had kept it there, and Mandavi grasped it tightly as the application was finished and he began to bandage.

"Okay, you are done!" he cried cheerfully, as if it were some sort of an operation rather than a simple bandaging, and Mandavi wanted to slap herself. Weakness, she had shown weakness, grasping that prince's hand. And yet, once he removed his hand from her grasp, she only let it slip out reluctantly. It felt so nice to have something to grasp onto for reassurance, and his hand molded into hers like a sculpture.