toward her wounded sister. Urmila heard the sound of running footsteps behind her and before she could whirl around, she found herself trapped by a band of powerful arms. She tried to wrench away but Lakshman was holding her down by her left arm, pressing her hard against him. ‘Can’t you hear me?’ he rasped. ‘Stay away from your sister!’
Urmila watched as Sita writhed in a pool of blood—the puddle spreading fast under her body.
‘You killed her! Why? Why?’ she spat at him.
She saw a dagger hanging at his waist as he still grappled with her, and snatching it with her right hand, she tried to thrust it in his neck, his shoulders, his back—anywhere she could reach and hurt him grievously to allow her to escape from his restraining grasp. But before she could stab him, he had pinned both her wrists, forcing them down so hard, that she was forced to let go of the dagger, seeing it fall weakly from her hands, its blade glinting in the early morning rays. Flashing a look of unbridled fury and loathing, she found herself staring back at his darkening eyes, his craggy face barely a few inches away from hers. She could feel his hot breath on her throat; he could sense her hatred and anger.
She wanted to scream at him, but the wordless scream was stifled in her dry throat. It was full of bubbling sobs instead, the tears coursing down her face.
‘She is not Sita, Mila!’ she heard him say softly, almost gently, his eyes tender. Urmila’s eyes widened in shock. ‘It’s someone else in her guise,’ he whispered, his face close. She squirmed as she felt his lips move on her skin. ‘And I shall let you go if you promise not to attack me again with that brandishing dagger so that I can find out who did this,’ he released her saying that, letting go of her wrists suddenly. Feeling strangely bereft and free from his warm hold, Urmila slowly straightened herself, her fingers rubbing her bruised wrists. She saw him stride purposefully toward the fake Sita and stood tall above the struggling body.
‘Who are you?’ he asked quietly, the venom in his voice deadly.
He got a gurgle for an answer. Lakshman did not wait for a reply. He smoothly shot a relentless arrow in the person’s midriff. Urmila flinched as she heard a loud, agonized scream like the last, failing cry of a dying animal.
She heard fresh footsteps and looked up to see Sita dashing toward her, followed closely by her cousins. She sighed in quick relief—this was her Sita! Lakshman raised his arm high in warning, and the girls stopped running, standing close to Ram, who had been watching the spectacle mutely all this while. All of them were gazing down at Sita’s lookalike. She was still gasping for breath, struggling to resume her original form. He was a demon, a dying, desperate demon.
His last shriek had got the guards and Janak hurrying to the site as well. Janak recognized the demon and was not surprised.
‘Who is he, father?’ asked Urmila urgently. ‘What is he doing here?’
King Janak hesitated, he was hoping to brush it off but the intense stare of several pairs of questioning eyes forced him to elucidate. ‘This man here is Banasur. He had sent me a message warning me against Sita’s swayamvar,’ he started slowly, ‘then I received another message just yesterday to cancel the wedding. I guessed the demon clan did not want this marriage to happen but preferred to ignore it as a mere threat. I never could have imagined that he would come here to kidnap Sita. Or worse, kill, either Ram or Sita, or both!’
‘That’s a little difficult with Lakshman around!’ said Ram heartily, clearly trying to ease the bleak mood. ‘…and as usual, my brave little younger brother saved the day for all of us!’
Janak was overwhelmed with gratitude. He turned to Lakshman and bowed to him. ‘You have not just saved my daughters and my son-in-law; you have given me a new life. How would have I faced the world, my family and myself? You,
Urmila watched as Sita writhed in a pool of blood—the puddle spreading fast under her body.
‘You killed her! Why? Why?’ she spat at him.
She saw a dagger hanging at his waist as he still grappled with her, and snatching it with her right hand, she tried to thrust it in his neck, his shoulders, his back—anywhere she could reach and hurt him grievously to allow her to escape from his restraining grasp. But before she could stab him, he had pinned both her wrists, forcing them down so hard, that she was forced to let go of the dagger, seeing it fall weakly from her hands, its blade glinting in the early morning rays. Flashing a look of unbridled fury and loathing, she found herself staring back at his darkening eyes, his craggy face barely a few inches away from hers. She could feel his hot breath on her throat; he could sense her hatred and anger.
She wanted to scream at him, but the wordless scream was stifled in her dry throat. It was full of bubbling sobs instead, the tears coursing down her face.
‘She is not Sita, Mila!’ she heard him say softly, almost gently, his eyes tender. Urmila’s eyes widened in shock. ‘It’s someone else in her guise,’ he whispered, his face close. She squirmed as she felt his lips move on her skin. ‘And I shall let you go if you promise not to attack me again with that brandishing dagger so that I can find out who did this,’ he released her saying that, letting go of her wrists suddenly. Feeling strangely bereft and free from his warm hold, Urmila slowly straightened herself, her fingers rubbing her bruised wrists. She saw him stride purposefully toward the fake Sita and stood tall above the struggling body.
‘Who are you?’ he asked quietly, the venom in his voice deadly.
He got a gurgle for an answer. Lakshman did not wait for a reply. He smoothly shot a relentless arrow in the person’s midriff. Urmila flinched as she heard a loud, agonized scream like the last, failing cry of a dying animal.
She heard fresh footsteps and looked up to see Sita dashing toward her, followed closely by her cousins. She sighed in quick relief—this was her Sita! Lakshman raised his arm high in warning, and the girls stopped running, standing close to Ram, who had been watching the spectacle mutely all this while. All of them were gazing down at Sita’s lookalike. She was still gasping for breath, struggling to resume her original form. He was a demon, a dying, desperate demon.
His last shriek had got the guards and Janak hurrying to the site as well. Janak recognized the demon and was not surprised.
‘Who is he, father?’ asked Urmila urgently. ‘What is he doing here?’
King Janak hesitated, he was hoping to brush it off but the intense stare of several pairs of questioning eyes forced him to elucidate. ‘This man here is Banasur. He had sent me a message warning me against Sita’s swayamvar,’ he started slowly, ‘then I received another message just yesterday to cancel the wedding. I guessed the demon clan did not want this marriage to happen but preferred to ignore it as a mere threat. I never could have imagined that he would come here to kidnap Sita. Or worse, kill, either Ram or Sita, or both!’
‘That’s a little difficult with Lakshman around!’ said Ram heartily, clearly trying to ease the bleak mood. ‘…and as usual, my brave little younger brother saved the day for all of us!’
Janak was overwhelmed with gratitude. He turned to Lakshman and bowed to him. ‘You have not just saved my daughters and my son-in-law; you have given me a new life. How would have I faced the world, my family and myself? You,
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