Unhealthy Competitiveness-Part 1
A/N-And here it is! The much awaited Swayamvar competition. Will Ram be a no-show? Will Sita give up? Will Lakshman be the matchmaker of the century? And will Urmila realize something very important? All of these questions will be answered in today's edition of...Ramayana Retold!
Sita sat on the balcony, legs propped up as she admired the moon, shining white like a beacon to the helpless, filled with flaw, but persistent in its light. A breeze blew past, but it did not make her shiver, just the stray strands on her hair blow into her face. Urmila lit a lamp, expecting this bout of emotion the night before the competition.
"Sita, take a blanket, it is cold. You must not catch a fever the day before the competition, what will kings say, if you have a little red nose?" she giggled, trying to light up the spirit. Sita looked up mournfully, not showing any signs of warming up.
"I like the cold. It embraces me. It seems to numb the pain of the fact that the prince, the person, that I care for, does not return my feelings enough to attend my own wedding competition." Urmila wanted to interrupt so terribly bad, but listened instead, to her sister's words.
"He is afraid of embarrassing himself in front of me getting married to someone else. Does he not like me? Does he not care for me as I had understood? Am I just a naive girl who is too much in love to recognize obvious signs of someone not in love in return?" Urmila wanted to speak, but thought it a time to listen to Sita's rant, and sat down on an ottoman.
"I had such high hopes, expectations! Look, the man of my dreams is going to marry me, I will have a second loving family, I won't be married to some conceited king who is so much older than me!" she sniffled then suddenly, her face hardened.
"Love is for the people who can help it. I cannot. Father will marry me off, and I will be a trophy wife of a king who kills and does not care for people, nor me, just for my beauty. I won't ever get to see any of you again!" She took a deep breath. "I don't want a life like that!" she screamed into the empty night. Then, she stopped speaking, and Urmila started.
"He will come. He will. Did you not hear the words of his brother, who knows him so well? Did you not understand what they mean? He is indecisive, but that does not lower the amount of love that he has for you!" Sita wanted to enter the conversation again, but Urmila was on a roll, and would not stop speaking.
"He will come. If not for himself, for his brother's persistence and perseverance! He will compete, if not for himself, for his brother's persistence and perseverance. He cares for you, might be too thick to understand it, but he does! He will arrive, and compete, for his brother. But sister, he will win, for you! He loves you, for goodness sakes, you just can't believe it!" And with that furious statement, Urmila folded her arms across her chest, counting the stars until she slept.
Sita turned right back to the moon, sniffling as the cold finally got to her, and slowly wrapping the blanket around herself so as to not alert Urmila, who had fallen asleep. As she stared back at the sky, a single silvery tear fell from her eye, and Ram's at the same time, as they both admired the moon from the balconies.
~
"Oh, cheer up Sita!" cried Mandavi, dancing around her sister excitedly as she put a large, golden earring in her ear. Sita flicked a tear away from her cheek and smiled. Shrutakirti put some red color on her large lips as Urmila worked on applying some kohl around her eyes to make them look larger.
"Hmm, do you think the dark red dupatta, or the light green one?" asked Mandavi, raising both up. "The dark one has pretty embroidery, but the light has little mini diamonds and mirrors! Which one?" Sita looked up, smiled, and pointed towards the green. The same color as Ram's angavastram. Urmila winced, but continued applying the kohl.
"The mehendi workers did an awful job, honestly! No design, no detail," Mandavi sneered.
Urmila rolled her eyes and took out a mehendi cone of her own. "You think I didn't expect that, rakshasi? Now let's get working before mother notices." And so, Shrutakirti and Urmila each "revised" the mehendi on Sita's hands until large swirls were escaping from her arms, each hand was beautifully covered with flowers and paisleys, and Urmila had even snuck in Ram's name somewhere in the designs.
"Look, Sita! You look lovely!" cried Urmila, twisting her around in front of the mirror. Sita smiled, sniffling, as Mandavi wrapped the dupatta around her neck loosely, powdering her face with some light gold glitter. But Shrutakirti frowned.
"Something is missing, I am telling you all." She rummaged through the drawers, and finally looked up, holding a maang tikka with a shining green emerald in the center. "Move aside sisters, I am the jewelry expert!" she cried, pushing Urmila away, brushing Sita's red ghunghat aside, and carefully placing the maang tikka center-placed on her forehead.
"Aha, now it's complete!" she cried triumphantly. Sita smiled; indeed, she looked happier, more like a shining jewel, more beautiful with the maang tikka. She did not like it. The kings would find her more appealing, would try to lift the dhanush harder, and one of them might even win!
Urmila understood her thoughts, her feelings, her reluctance. How much she hurt, how much she hated this competition. "Look, Sita. Remember what we talked about last night. He will come, please believe me, Sita! Please!" Sita sighed, nodding as Rani Sunaina walked into the Room.
"You look lovely, putri. Don't be so sad, it's for the good. You will fall in love with the winner, only the purest and most devoted will be able to lift that dhanush. We know, as you lifted it when you were just a child!" Sunaina laughed in order to mask her crying, and in return, got a tight hug from Shrutakirti.
"Here, putri." And Sunaina placed a large, red bindi right in the middle of her forehead. It was finalized. Sita was going to attend the competition. She would be married. If not to Ram, the person whom she loved, to someone else.
"You know, I heard that the King of Lanka is coming." Mandavi stated frankly after Sunaina left. "He's supposed to be very powerful and mighty, and has a very large empire, and large army. I suppose everything about him is grand. Did you know his kingdom is made of gold, and has architecture from the architect of the gods?" Shrutakirti looked up sharply.
"The King of Lanka? Does he not have a wife, Queen Mandodari, who is supposed to be exceptionally beautiful? Do not speak praises of him, Mandavi, for if he is to win, Sita will be a second wife, second in command, the second queen." Shrutakirti berated Mandavi angrily, the first time she had ever raised her voice against her sister. Sita looked down and Urmila clenched her jaw.
"Come, let's go." Urmila spat, gently lifting up Sita, after being followed by her cousins, led her to the chambers. They peeked out from the corner of the wall. Kings, tall and short, small and large, with big crowns and small crowns, but not one of them looked even near Sita's age. She shivered. There was no sign of Ram, nor his brother.
"Introducing the princesses of Mithila!" cried the announcer, and all chatter stopped. Sita walked out first, placing one foot in front of the other, feeling the eyes on her burn holes into her body, but she just calmly walked towards her small throne that was behind a veil. Mandavi walked next, not caring about being graceful, just stalking to her seat next to Sita. Then, Urmila, her chin high in the air, lips thin, but acting very much like a poised princess. And then lastly, Shrutakirti, gentle, calm, and collected. Sita smiled. How her sisters entered was a good attestment to their personalities.
She craned her neck, but the three empty thrones remained. Ram and his brothers did not enter. She checked the time quickly. It was two minutes before the ceremony began. Urmila was wrong. They would not come. Guilt and hate lurched inside of her, suddenly, for Urmila, who had gotten her hopes up. She looked down at her lap, playing with her hands sorrowfully. She would be married off, there was no chance. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. Urmila had poked her.
"Look!" she hissed in excitement. And Sita looked up, not daring to believe it. There was a short sage with a long beard and very respectable looking. Sage Vishwamitra. As he sat down, another prince walked in. One with lotus shaped eyes and dark skin. Sita drank in the sight of his presence as he nodded at her calmly, a smile on his face, and sat down, not looking away from the veil that separated them at any point.
Right behind him was Lakshman, his brother, who wore a rare, and triumphant smile. Suddenly, Sita understood what Urmila meant. Lakshman had convinced him to attend. Lakshman would convince him to compete. But Ram would try his best to win her hand. She let out a soft, breathy laugh as Urmila beamed in victory, waving quickly at Lakshman who looked curiously at the bow.
"Let the competition begin!" cried Janak, waving his hands, and the first king walked forward. He placed his hands under the bow, and strained. He groaned and moaned, and looked constipated all the same, but could not lift the bow, subject to laughter and ridicule, he sat back in his seat.
However, the laughers and the ridiculers soon realized that lifting the bow was no easy feat. King and King tried again, but they could not lift the mighty bow. Sita just stared at the bow. Was it sending some sort of signal? Would Ram be able to lift it? Suddenly, the halls began to shake.
The thrones all rumbled as a tall, mighty person walked in. He had oiled muscles, a large golden crown, and thick, brown mustache. He looked around, and laughed. He had the audacity to laugh, and yet the kings did not defend their honor, just cowered as he walked towards the bow, staring at it challengingly.
"Such a stupid task, Janak? I could do this any day." Sita widened her eyes. Ravan was a well known bhakt of Lord Shiv. If he lifted up the bow, and strung it! She closed her eyes ight, and prayed with every single fibre inside of her. Please, do not let Ravan string that bow, please, oh God, please!
With a grunt, Ravan shifted the bow a few inches, Sita's heart began to race even faster, her breathing began to rise to unknown paces and Urmila began to mutter prayers beside her as well. Ravan began to slowly lift up the bow, and a tear found its way out of her eyes, trailing down her cheek. THUD!
Sita's eyes flew open. The bow had landed right back on the marble platform, and Ravan had a swollen finger. Astonished silence, before laughter, greater than it had ever been before. Their amusement, however, was silenced with a single, lethal glare from Ravan, who looked upon the king in pure anger.
"No one can lift this bow if I could not! This challenge is impossible, your daughter will never get married!" With that dramatic statement, Ravan stalked off, his robes billowing behind him in a movement of terror. Lakshman sent a glare to his retreating back, and Urmila smiled at his spirit, though hers were dampened by Ravan's unkind statement.
"But it's true, is it not?" One king voiced uncertainly, drumming his fingers on the armrest as he looked around for support. "Sita will never get married! If Ravan could not do it, none of us can! It's best you set a task that can be completed, Janak, though your high head may not like it!" Janak frowned, but thought it was a straggler, until mutterings began in the court again.
"No, it's impossible-" "Shame upon you-" "Your daughter will never be married-". And then someone said something that was horrible to Janak's ears. "Just marry off one of your other daughters! Why not Princess Shrutakirti, or Princess Urmila?" Lakshman gaped. Shrutakirti was only eighteen, and to be married to a forty-year-old? Impossible!
Urmila was disgusted. This man was so old, and to propose that the youngest of them be married off. It was horrendous! It was ugly! She would not be married to him either, and turned to her father in confidence that he would wave off the man's statement without heSitation. To her utter horror, King Janak seemed to be actually contemplating it! She turned towards Ram in anger. Why had he not yet participated in the competition, if he loved Sita so much? Lakshman seemed to reach the same conclusion, and with a quick look towards the veil, and towards Urmila's throne, which seemed to bring him more confidence. Lakshman's entire body burned at the thought of the dishonor that the princesses were facing.
"You all are disgusting. You were respectfully invited by the King, and you make such overtures towards his daughters?" he began, and his sharp, confident voice broke through the mutterings of the court. "I think that my brother, Ram, Crown Prince of Kosala, can do it. He can lift the bow, win Devi Sita's hand." Some people looked ready to laugh, but were cut off by his even angrier voice. "The reason you all couldn't is because it was in his destiny to win. I think that there will be no need to marry eighteen-year-old Devi Urmila or Shurtakirti to a forty-year-old man." he snarled, placing a hand over the hilt of his sword protectively. Ram glanced at him quickly, then Vishwamitra, who nodded encouragingly.
"Him? He's just twenty, he could not do it if-" the random king stopped speaking immediately as Lakshman caught him with a glare so furious that it could burn the throne upon which he sat, consuming it in fiery red flames. Urmila stared at the fierce, confident prince, who had just defended her sister's honor, and her very own. She turned a light red in admiration, and gratefulness flooded her brain.and looked towards Sita, who was looking upon Ram as if her life depended on it.
"Go ahead putra. I have full confidence in you." Vishwamitra stated, beckoning Ram forward. Urmila began to pray, Sita clenching her eyes tightly, and Rani Sunaina began to pray upon the beads on her necklace. Swallowing hard, but without heSitation at his Guru's command, Ram stood up, clenching his jaw once as he stared at the bow, not in challenge or hate as the other kings and Ravan had done, but in respect, as though he held it in high regard that it could beat him.
Urmila felt desperate thoughts rush through her mind, regretting any bad thing she may have ever thought about her sister giving her attention to Ram, hope, prayer, and her chest rose and fell so quickly that she started to feel weak. Mandavi began to revoke every single wrong statement she had said about marriage, about princes, about Ravan and his mightiness, and began to pray in hope. Shrutakirti, very pleased about not being married off, pure and innocent, had nothing to regret, just prayers that the prince would lift the bow, string it, and bring her sister many happinesses.
Sita peered at Ram through her squinted eyes, the light of the day, and the reflection of the gold thrones as he stood in front of the marble platform. Every blink was painful, to be denied a chance to look at him for even a fraction of a second was great pain. Knowing that every single closing and opening of her eye brought her closer to marriage, or heartbreak.
A/N-Why do I feel that my writing in this chapter was much better than ones before? Did I switch places with David Baldacci? Or anyone else? Does anyone feel that this chapter was somehow much more expressive than the last two? It was definitely longer, whooee, 4 ½ pages!
Anyhoo, I did not want to name this "The Swayamvar", because that's what I'm naming the actual wedding chapter, which is about 5 chapters or so away, maybe 6 or 7, 8 or 9??? I don't know. I haven't quite planned that out yet. Besides, don't you think the title fits? These are very unhealthy sportsman spirits these people have!
Anyways, continue reading everyone! Technically, this is not a cliffhanger, since you all already know what's happening, and there is another chapter! So please. No hate.