"What about your wife? Urmila? You very well know that she loves you so much! You are her one true love! Would you leave her of that! Are you so irresponsible?! Are you so selfish? Are you so cruel? Do you not know any dharma at all to condemn an innocent, pure woman to a life of bitterness and sadness as a widow?" Ram felt like he was about to shout. For a moment, Lakshman flinched, and Ram felt a sense of victory. But Lakshman covered the momentary mishap up so quickly and expertfully that he wondered if he had imagined it, he wondered if it had happened at all.
"Urmila-she would understand. She would, I know it. Besides, she is still young, you know? She is still kind. Sita bhabhi would surely give her the companionship she needs and deserves. And if she wishes to, she can remarry. I would not blame her for that. She has plenty of love left in her for it to be diminished when I leave." Ram never thought his brother would utter such words so emotionlessly. Ram knew the love he had for his wife. He clenched his jaw, and began to seethe. Lakshman did not react.
"What. About. Your. Brothers." Ram spat angrily, crossing his arms again across his chest and staring Lakshman down angrily.
"Shatrughan is good. He is happy. He will find some humor to make out of the situation. He has his mother, and everyone else. He has Shrutakirti, who will support him. I regret that I was not as close with him as I could have been. But that is alright. That is fine. Bharat-I still think that he had nothing to do with it. My suspicions are aroused, of course, but I love him enough to not believe it. I will leave behind for him a set of paintbrushes large enough to keep him sustained throughout his lifetime. He will live."
Ram was not mentioned. He was not even mentioned. It was as if he did not fall into the category of "brother". Ram felt anger coursing through his veins like a boiling hot water bath. "And what about me?" he hissed, his teeth gnashing together threateningly.
Lakshman stared at him blankly, and Ram suddenly realized something that he had never agreed with before; why Maa Sumitra always called his eyes the color of the night. They were the darkest of the dark, darker, even, than the night sky for which his eyes were compared to often. "I am nothing to you. I am simply a Rajkumar. You are simply a Prince." That was the breaking point for Ram.
Lakshman's words were cut off by a slap. In all of the anger that clouded his thoughts, making his consciousness hazy, Ram had thrown his hand wildly. "Is that all I am to you?" he asked in a stuttering voice, seemingly broken. "A Rajkumar? That's it? One conversation broke everything? Years of dedication and trust and family and love? You are my brother! For goodness sakes, I would care if you killed someone! I WOULD CARE IF YOU DIED! I am worthy of being mentioned as your family!" he cried.
"Remember how we used to laugh together in childhood? Remember how we used to never eat without each other when we were toddlers? Remember how every single birthday, you raced to give me your present first? Remember how there was a time when I could not sleep if you were not there? Remember how I was always the first to the scene if you got hurt? Remember how you always beat those two bullies in Gurukul-Daura and Riku-who insulted my name, but you never, ever did it if they insulted you?
"Remember how I always used to get you fruits and sweets when you were hurt? Or how I always fussed over you if you even got a scratch? Or how I defended you from any monster? Or how I sat beside your bed when you were unconscious? Or when I laughed at your stupidest jokes when you were a toddler-god they were so terrible! Or how I always took your side whenever you and Shatrughan fought? Has all that been forgotten in your bloodthirst?" Ram cried desperately. Lakshman did not speak. "All of it?" his voice was broken.
Lakshman did not put a hand to his red cheek where Ram had slapped him, he only turned his head slowly to stare at his brother. Ram felt guilt surge in him, but overpowering that was a necessity for validation. "Slap me once." he bit out. Finally, came his brother's bleak voice. "Slap me a thousand times. I want to stab Kaikeyi. I want to hear her scream. I want to hear the steady sobbing of her old, shriveled, raisin of a nursemaid. No matter how many things you throw at me, no matter if you raise a hand against me."
"Yes, you would be sad, stricken, but not for long. I need vengeance bhaiyya." Ram closed his eyes and breathed again. Bhaiyya. He had said it, if only out of habit. "I am not as good as you. Nobody is as good as you! I can't live without doing something. I want to kick a wall. I want to kill something! I want to stab something, even if it is myself! That witch has manipulated us-you-since childhood, and you expect me to sit back and do nothing about it? Do you expect me to watch as a chariot takes you to Chitrakoot forest?"
Ram was about to shake his head, but Lakshman continued. "I see the sobbing of Maa Kaushalya! I cannot unsee that! I hear the shrieking of Sita bhabhi. I cannot unhear that! I see the lamenting of the subjects, tears trailing down their faces, but I cannot do anything about them. I cannot forget that! My very being longs, is restless, for revenge. It needs to shed the blood of the perpetrator. It needs to avenge the innocent by hurting the guilty! I am a horrible person bhaiyya. But I am angry. Anger pulses through my veins in the stead of blood. I-I need to use this sword, or an arrow, or something, be it a vase or a spear or one of those mangoes. No matter the consequences."
Ram sighed. "But if you do, if you die, you shall not care, but others will. Your sisters will lament. Your mother will shriek. Your father will be bedridden with guilt. Your brothers will pound their chests. And I-I shall die without you if I know I could have prevented it. Do you wish-Lakshman-for me to die?" Lakshman quickly shook his head. "Everything has collateral damage. Think of the consequences, do not throw them aside. Else this brother of yours may just die." Ram grasped his brothers hands tightly, giving them a squeeze, before he went back to consoling his mother, who had collapsed again in wracked sobs when she learned that Kaikeyi could not be killed.
Lakshman stood back, watching helplessly. He felt like a bird who had just lost its singing voice. A flower that had its petals wrenched away from it. A tree deprived of its branches. A fountain suddenly without water. A garden which had not even a sprig of herbs in it. A treasury with nary a piece of gold. He felt like a life stripped of his purpose when his vengeance was stolen from him.
What could he do now, to prevent his brother's exile? What could he do to preserve the happiness of his family? How could he stop this family of royals from being ripped apart? He felt helpless. Lakshman didn't like being helpless. He always wanted to do something, anything. But he knew that his brother's words were final. He could not do or say anything against them.
-----O-----
"Lakshman is angry," Shatrughan muttered, clutching his heart. Shrutakirti wrapped a hand around his arm, and Shatrughan released a breath, grateful for the support. Across the room, Bharat and Mandavi both leaned closer. "I can feel it in my heart that some rage is plaguing him that absolutely nothing can stop."
"How do you know that? How can you feel it, across a hundred miles? What does it feel like, if Lakshman bhaiyya is angry? " wondered Mandavi, the realist, skeptically. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, crossing her legs in a pretzel position. Shrutakirti and Bharat both also turned to look at Shatrughan, who exhaled exasperatedly.
"You all are worried about how it feels, when the real question is why I am even feeling it. Fine, I will tell you. Twins have a different bond that brothers and sisters do not. My heart is constricting, and I can feel his anger coursing through my own bloodstream. I think that we can feel each other's emotions over a long distance, even. We have very similar mindsets, in some situations, though unsimilar humor. It may be because we have the same birth mother, and we share her emotions, often." Bharat cleared his throat.
"He has only been this angry a few times, as far as we both know. Once, when Shatrughan and I were both nearing death when we were captured by a demon. He was smouldering in fire, it seemed. I could feel it from many, many meters away from him. It was as if he was radiating light and fury like the sun does sometimes. I am glad that his anger is not directed towards me, that time.
"The second time was when Ram bhaiyya was threatened. When he was underestimated by other kings and princes during the swayamvar. Shatrughan could feel it back in Ayodhya, and he had suddenly sat up, remember that, Shatru?" Shatrughan nodded in a way that conveyed that he could never forget it. "Yes, it was a horrible time. We thought that he was in trouble, or something. Papa was ready to send troops."
Mandavi looked between them, but they did not speak any more. A bead of sweat inched down Bharat's face, and he fanned himself, and breathed in and out and in and out over and over. A cloud of gloom settled among the four as they sat on the bed idly. Shrutakirti's hand trembled, and Shatrughan quickly grabbed it, rubbing it to bring back warmth. Bharat shivered in alarm. The queasiness that had appeared in his stomach a few days ago never had left.
A/N-Haha! I have returned in my full glory, with the thing that I am often characterized by-putting Lakshman in places where he really is not needed! But hey, I need material for my story. You should be glad that I am not a journalist, or else I would be the noisiest, nosiest journalist any of you have ever seen.
I am really stretching this thing out too much, aren't I? I mean, like, banishing Ram should not take 70 something chapters to do. Like, why can't I execute everything as skillfully as some of you? Eh, anyways. I just realized that there is a 200 chapter limit on books on Wattpad. I won't reach that...right? (that's your cue to say right!)