Satataharitam - Short Stories On Narayana

Ayodhya Kanda (The Limelight on Bharata)

A/N: Fair warning, this is a very long chapter. Not to discourage you from reading it because that's exactly what I DON'T want, but I thought it was necessary to tell you how big it is. Secondly, it's very angsty. Thirdly, it may be repetitive or VERY different depending on how you perceive it. I hope, in any case, that I can retain your attention for such a long chapter.

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Bharata stormed out of Kaikeyi's room, furious and heartbroken all at once. It had been a long conversation. It had been just as painful. He had shouted and cursed at her very well for her wonderful deeds, and had held nothing back. He was always someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, and this time, he had been no different.

It was only as he was storming towards his own room that realisation began to dawn upon him. He had been told so much devastating news, his brain had almost forgotten to process it.

His strides got slower and wearier with every piece of information that sunk in. What made him feel even worse was the helplessness. There was absolutely nothing he could do about anything at that moment. There was no solution to anything in his mind at the moment.

He tried to calm himself down. He worked best under pressure when he kept calm, and he knew he had all the ability to quieten all the raging thoughts in his head. Only, it was much harder than he was ready to take on at the moment.

As he was trudging down the corridors, he arrived at the door of his father's room. He stopped and glanced at the doors that had been thrown open, at the bedsheet that was strewn on the floor, at the medicines that were at the bedside table.

He walked into the room absentmindedly, following his wounded heart and listening to everything it said. He looked at the one portrait that caught his eye every time he entered the room. Dasharatha with his sons. It was the only thing he had hung in the room and so, it grabbed everyone's attention very easily.

Bharata knew how much his father had always loved his children. But now, he wondered how much he hated him. It wasn't his fault. Bharata knew nothing about it. It had been an overnight conspiracy that Bharata had had absolutely no clue about. But what would one naturally think? The next heir apparent to the throne was going to be Bharata. What counter did he have to those who said that he was involved in the conspiracy?

"Bharat,"

He turned around sharply, his chain of dark thoughts shattered, to find his wife. She ran towards him and hugged him, sobbing into his shoulder.

Bharata wrapped his arms around her hesitantly, patting her back when he knew she was comfortable with him. He had never seen her crying. In fact, his sisters had told him that even they had only rarely seen Mandavi crying. She hadn't even cried when she was leaving her house for Ayodhya after their wedding. And that made it all the more difficult for Bharata to handle her at the moment.

"What's going on, Maan?" he asked softly, trying to pretend like he was not at his lowest point in life. "D-Did Pa say anything for me to follow? He...must have." Mandavi looked up at him, frowning, and Bharata looked at her too, raising his brows. "What did he say?"

Mandavi shuddered at just the thought of telling him the whole thing. But she knew she'd have to. "He said... He said he wouldn't accept you as his son if you accepted that throne."

Bharata's lips trembled and he hung his head in a bid to hide his emotions. "That's what he said before his death? Nothing else?"

Mandavi pulled away from him and wiped her tears. Bharata knew the answer. Nothing else. His father had only said this for him before his death.