young man, have averted a tragedy…and I shall be eternally indebted to you!’
Lakshman was evidently embarrassed but seeing the king overcome with feelings, he tried to reassure him. ‘I did what I should have,’ he said kindly, trying to assuage the king’s face. ‘We are family now and it is our duty to look after each other,’ he affirmed, bowing before the king but not before sweeping Urmila a sardonic glance. She flushed; it was her turn to look embarrassed as she mentally relived their riotous confrontation a few minutes ago. She had jumped to an unfair conclusion, the consequence of which could have been tragic had it not been for Lakshman’s quick presence of mind and his swift decisiveness in that moment of crisis.
‘Sir, you should have let us know of these threats. You should not be worrying about your daughters any longer,’ said Ram, his face grave. ‘It is our responsibility to protect your family now. From here on, I promise to take care of all of you—and not just Sita.’
In the midst of their talk, no one had paid attention to the wounded demon. Before they could realize, he in his last effort, made a dash for the thick woods. Urmila expected Lakshman to prevent him from fleeing or wounding him further but he stood immobile, his eyes fixed at the retreating figure. She gave him a defiant, questioning look.
‘Why did you allow him to escape?’ she demanded.
‘Princess, I think he got the right message, which he will convey to the people concerned,’ he said softly. ‘Unlike some…’
He deliberately left the sentence unfinished, the words hanging in the air accusingly. He stooped down and picked up his dagger which had fallen in the grass and put it back in the empty scabbard at his trim waist. ‘Aha! This devious little thing with which you were ready to kill me! For what? Think!’ he whispered softly, raising a quizzical eyebrow and walked away from her.
Urmila flushed in disconcertion, clenching her fists. She had barely recovered from the rough embrace as he had gripped her close, hard and warm against him. With a start, Urmila realized he even had an endearment for her. Mila, he had throatily murmured with passion blazing in his eyes. Urmila rolled the word in her mind—Mila, something that has been found and received, she said with relish.
But their conversation had left her fretting at his cryptic words. What was he trying to tell her? That she had been ready to kill him for her sister? She could not wipe away that tearing, troubling thought—had she elected her sister over him?
Urmila hid the red welts on her wrists wearing some extra bangles. Thankfully, none of her sisters noticed but she could not help but unconsciously touch the bruise each time she met Lakshman. He caught her once and threw her a knowing, sardonic look. It was taunting: questioning her about her feelings for him yet pushing her away from him. He insisted on staying away from her with aloof dignity, yet she often found him sidling a stray glance at her, as if he could not resist it.
Six days later, a messenger arrived from Ayodhya and Janak summoned the four girls for an immediate discussion. This was indeed not exceptional in the palace of Mithila. Janak always conferred, not just with his wife and younger brother, but with his daughters and nieces as well, before taking any major decision. It was a family tradition that all valued, appreciated and respected.
The moment she entered the room, Urmila anxiously examined the expressions and demeanour of the elders. They did not look grim enough; the news to be divulged would not be very bad. But her mother looked distinctly uneasy; the news to be divulge would not be that good either.
‘King Dashrath expresses his delight over the good news of Sita’s marriage to Ram,’ Janak began, his tone amiable. He paused long as was his habit, often infuriating her impatient mother.
‘But he has another request which, though very flattering, has left me
Lakshman was evidently embarrassed but seeing the king overcome with feelings, he tried to reassure him. ‘I did what I should have,’ he said kindly, trying to assuage the king’s face. ‘We are family now and it is our duty to look after each other,’ he affirmed, bowing before the king but not before sweeping Urmila a sardonic glance. She flushed; it was her turn to look embarrassed as she mentally relived their riotous confrontation a few minutes ago. She had jumped to an unfair conclusion, the consequence of which could have been tragic had it not been for Lakshman’s quick presence of mind and his swift decisiveness in that moment of crisis.
‘Sir, you should have let us know of these threats. You should not be worrying about your daughters any longer,’ said Ram, his face grave. ‘It is our responsibility to protect your family now. From here on, I promise to take care of all of you—and not just Sita.’
In the midst of their talk, no one had paid attention to the wounded demon. Before they could realize, he in his last effort, made a dash for the thick woods. Urmila expected Lakshman to prevent him from fleeing or wounding him further but he stood immobile, his eyes fixed at the retreating figure. She gave him a defiant, questioning look.
‘Why did you allow him to escape?’ she demanded.
‘Princess, I think he got the right message, which he will convey to the people concerned,’ he said softly. ‘Unlike some…’
He deliberately left the sentence unfinished, the words hanging in the air accusingly. He stooped down and picked up his dagger which had fallen in the grass and put it back in the empty scabbard at his trim waist. ‘Aha! This devious little thing with which you were ready to kill me! For what? Think!’ he whispered softly, raising a quizzical eyebrow and walked away from her.
Urmila flushed in disconcertion, clenching her fists. She had barely recovered from the rough embrace as he had gripped her close, hard and warm against him. With a start, Urmila realized he even had an endearment for her. Mila, he had throatily murmured with passion blazing in his eyes. Urmila rolled the word in her mind—Mila, something that has been found and received, she said with relish.
But their conversation had left her fretting at his cryptic words. What was he trying to tell her? That she had been ready to kill him for her sister? She could not wipe away that tearing, troubling thought—had she elected her sister over him?
Urmila hid the red welts on her wrists wearing some extra bangles. Thankfully, none of her sisters noticed but she could not help but unconsciously touch the bruise each time she met Lakshman. He caught her once and threw her a knowing, sardonic look. It was taunting: questioning her about her feelings for him yet pushing her away from him. He insisted on staying away from her with aloof dignity, yet she often found him sidling a stray glance at her, as if he could not resist it.
Six days later, a messenger arrived from Ayodhya and Janak summoned the four girls for an immediate discussion. This was indeed not exceptional in the palace of Mithila. Janak always conferred, not just with his wife and younger brother, but with his daughters and nieces as well, before taking any major decision. It was a family tradition that all valued, appreciated and respected.
The moment she entered the room, Urmila anxiously examined the expressions and demeanour of the elders. They did not look grim enough; the news to be divulged would not be very bad. But her mother looked distinctly uneasy; the news to be divulge would not be that good either.
‘King Dashrath expresses his delight over the good news of Sita’s marriage to Ram,’ Janak began, his tone amiable. He paused long as was his habit, often infuriating her impatient mother.
‘But he has another request which, though very flattering, has left me
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