Fleeting Moments-Ramayan Oneshots

Opulence

Ram had always been rich. Ever so rich. Everyone knew it, from the villagers who saw him every day, to foreigners even as far as Persia, who could only dream of the riches they saw in the paintings of him. 

As the Yuvraj of Ayodhya, favorite of Dasharath, the overflowing treasuries of Kosala were his in everything but name. He had mountains of gold, rubies the size of his fist, diamonds as large as his eyes, glinting sapphires that sparkled even in the dim light of the enormous room deep inside the palace.

Kosala was an empire, and its treasuries were its heart. But Ram's heart never belonged to the treasury which so many coveted. No. To snatch Ram's riches away from him, one would have to rip his family from his hands, separate him from everyone he loved. 

Something that shone brighter than the sapphires Dasharath had bought from Lanka was Ram's love for his family. They were his true treasure. They made him a rich man.

Ram had his entire family stowed away in the treasury of his heart.

Ram had always had his mothers; all three of them. How rich could a man be, he thought, to have not one, but three mothers. Three different mothers, mothers who loved him, mothers who mentored him and kept him sane and wiped his tears before he could even think of crying them. 

Sumant always said this: "A man's greatest advisor, and his greatest ever possession, is his mother." No wonder the villagers called their Yuvraj wise and rich.

Maa Kaushalya, to teach him the ways of a ruler. To show him how to sit up straight and oversee his future subjects. She, who first placed the heavy crown of the Yuvraj on his weak head and told him to put your chin up, Ram, for on your head, you carry Kosala's name. Maa Kaushalya, to be proud of the future king he would be.

Maa Kaikeyi, to mollycoddle him and spoil him. To splurge her allowance on toys for him and buy him a new kurta every week. Maa Kaikeyi, who was so kind to him that Ram remembered that one could always be kind to somebody else, despite their station. Maa Kaikeyi, to be proud of the good man he was.

Maa Sumitra, to keep him humble and wise. To call him for late night quilting near the fireplace, and with the orangish flames setting her sparkling eyes alight, tell him to keep his head cool, his hands steady, and never let anyone know his weaknesses. Maa Sumitra, who told him how to hang on to every last bit of his happiness, the only thing to keep him sane. Maa Sumitra, to be proud of the advice he imparted to others.

Three jewels in Ram's hand.

Yet all three of these jewels seemed to have left him, all of a sudden. Ram couldn't help but feel like his mothers were far away, in that moment, though they were merely in the castle behind him. 

He stared at the orangish sky and squinted at the moon that disappeared at the edge of the mountains and stayed silent until Shatrughan gently shook his shoulders. "Bhaiyya?" he asked. "Bhaiyya! What's gotten into you? Are you not feeling well? We can stay back!"

"Oh shut up!" Bharat laughed, high above them on his horse, as Lakshman shoved his shoulder playfully. "You just want an excuse to not go to Kekeya with me and Mandavi. When were you this attentive to Ram bhaiyya's health, of all things?"

Shatrughan frowned at him in a manner of mock hurt, but his voice lacked any sarcasm when he started speaking. "What are you talking about? If Ram bhaiyya was sick, then I'd stay back, and you would stay back too! Forget Maharaj Yudhajit, we take care of our bhaiyya first." He turned worriedly towards Ram, who smiled at him.

Of course. What was he worried about? Even if he did lose the three jewels that were his mothers, he still had his brothers. Bharat, to encourage him. Shatrughan to keep him lifted up.