LAKSHMAN PRIYA

LOVE RETURNS

The air was light, smearing gentle touch of excitement and contemplation over Urmila's tender skin. One month had passed since the day, when she had gotten the news about Lakshman through the messenger. The sun was slipping down at western horizon, beaming mysteriously at her. The air was turning more and more cold, along with Urmila's thumping heart.

The month of Kartika had come to half, along with ending of the span of fourteen years. Urmila didn't know how to control the dance of thoughts in her mind. Will her Saumitra return that night? Or.........
She didn't want to think of the other possibility. He had to come. He had promised.

The excitements and joy was roaming all over Ayodhya like a fresh aroma. Though that was a dark new moon evening, still the citizens made it more illuminated by lighting diyas at every corner of the city. Darkness had no place in Ayodhya, in that jovial evening. Because their Ram, Lakshman and Sita were returning home.
The palace was adorn with lustrous silky floral decorations and gems. Diya made up of golds and silvers were enhancing the charm. Especially at Kanak bhavan and Moti bhavan, because the soul of those lifeless walls were returning after fourteen years.

Urmila stood at the edge of her balcony in Moti bhavan, her heart was racing like a wild stallion. For fourteen years, she had waited, her days were filled with patience and her nights with longing and slumber of love. Now, the reality of her husband's return felt almost too good to be true.
Lakshman... her beloved Saumitra, was returning home.

Still Urmila's thoughts were far away from the bustling festivities. She was consumed by memories, each one a spark that lit her soul. She remembered the last time she had seen him, standing tall and resolute as he prepared to accompany his brother into exile. She had kissed his lips, by trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall, her heart was shattering as she had bid him farewell fourteen years ago.

And now, after what felt like a lifetime, he was coming back. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the edge of her Angavastram. Her breath was shallow and rapid. The years had been long and lonely, but they had also been filled with quiet strength. She had remained in the palace, by becoming entire Ayodhya's strength. But she kept dreaming of this moment, of his return. Yet, as the time drew nearer, she couldn't help but question if this was real or just a dream from which she might soon wake.

Urmila let out a sigh, trying to steady herself. Indeed it was real... he was coming back. Soon, she would touch him again, feel the familiar warmth of his embrace, and hear the comforting sound of his voice calling her name. The years of separation would melt away, replaced by the joy of being together again.

Her mind raced with thoughts of their reunion. But.... Would he recognize her? Would he be the same man she had loved so dearly, or had the years of exile changed him? Would their love still hold the same warmth, or would it be cold and distant? The ocean of her love surged with waves of anticipation, each one crashing against the walls of her heart, making it difficult to breathe.

As the bluish evening hue blanketed ayodhya, it became more bright by the diyas in every house and every corner. But far from the celebrations, Urmila walked inside her room... infront of her gigantic mirror.

It's glass surface had slightly mottled with age, because Urmila had almost forgotten to see herself in mirror since Lakshman had left Ayodhya. But still it was clear enough to reflect the face of that woman who had seen many seasons come and pass in longings. It had been fourteen years since she had last truly looked at herself, fourteen years of sacrifice and silent endurance. Her reflection was a testament to her journey, her transformation from a princess into a symbol of unwavering devotion.

Her face was noticeably leaner and body was thinner. The smoothness of her youthfull skin was replaced by fine lines that spoke of her longing and years of prayer. Her eyes, once bright and filled with dreams, now looking dull but held a deeper wisdom... the kind that only comes from experiencing great loss and learning to find strength in it. Her hair, once meticulously styled with care, now fell in untamed waves, cascading down her back with a life of its own. The simplicity of her attire with no embellishments, spoke volumes about her renunciation of luxury and her commitment to a life of austerity.