It never gets easier, never. No matter the number of times Mandavi and Shrutkirti consoled me; no matter the number of times Kaushalya didi and Sumitra didi cajoled me. I was heavily laden with sorrow and guilt, my pain had only one remedy; the one I, myself sent away. Oh! How I wish I could redo my actions!
“O Narayan, have some mercy on me! Return my Ram to me please, O merciful Lord!”
Kaushalya didi came in running hearing my cries; she came to me, talked to me for hours. She’d always do it, always, I don’t know how. I sent away her son; I took away her support of life so cruelly. Tears once again rolled down my cheeks, “I’m sorry didi, I’m so sorry. I took him away didi, I sent him away from all of us! Didi, I’m sorry!”
My blurred sight cleared and in swam the view of my didi, so pained, helpless and the reason was me.
“No Kaikeyi, you can’t be the reason for my pain.” Saying so, she crushed me in a much motherly hug.
That is how Mandavi found us--on the floor of my bedroom, both crying our hearts out. I could hear her anklets tingling as she rushed to us.
“Ma? Ma, please don’t cry!” She shook us, took us both in her arms and cajoled us into having dinner which otherwise none of us would have had.
As it would be these days, she was more a mother to us than we were to her. Affection coursed through me as I put my hand on her head, “May Lord keep you happy forever my child! I truly, could not have asked for a better wife for my Bharat.” Her smile dimmed at the mention of my son but it never vanished, such is my daughter. Jingle of bangles brought me out of the trance, our younger daughter-in-law, Shrutkirti came in.
“How was your day, Kirti?” asked Kaushalya didi pouring a glass of water for her.
I and Mandavi watched as her younger sister talked about the day in court animatedly. Shatrughan and Shrutkirti were the ones who took care of our kingdom in a true sense these days and I couldn’t be more proud of both of them. Bharat was still lamenting in Nandigram, it was Shatrughan who stood strong after the exile of Ram and self-exile of his twin Lakshman. Our dear Urmila wouldn’t wake up no matter what, Mandavi was too busy taking care of us grieved mothers; naturally the responsibility of Ayodhya fell on the tender shoulders of Shrutkirti. I wish Sita was here, I wish Sita could see how her sisters were being such marvelous daughters. Sita! Oh my, Sita! Come back, please. My heart called out for my eldest daughter-in-law.
“Ma, you should rest.” Softly Kirti took my hand and led me to the room. She must have seen tears that were starting to form in my eyes. “You should sleep Ma, Dashrathnandan would not like it if you don’t.” Smiling at her, I slept.
Years passed, but the tears never dried, the grief never left any of us--not really. Things looked better now, Kaushalya didi would smile as often as she could; Sumitra’s forehead no longer had lines of worry. But I could see it, I knew Kaushalya didi cried whenever she was alone; Sumitra’s eyes always had either a devastated or a longing look. As I knew Sumitra was proud of both her sons, Lakshman and Shatrughan. Lakshman!
Today was his and his twin’s birthday and I knew Shatrughan would not come out of his room the whole day. He is a brave kid who is utterly shattered at the absence of his other half. “O Supreme Lord, protect my three kids in the Dandaka forest, I shall forever remain thankful to you. Bless my Lakshman with strength and happiness. Bless my Shatrughan with strength and patience for these six years have been long and eight longer years of separation wait ahead. O Narayan, bless us all with patience!”
Immediately after offering my prayers, I rushed to the kitchen to make the favourite kheer of my sons. For a grieving mother who is separated from her two sons and a daughter, whose own son has shunned her, rightfully so, I was feeling pretty happy. It was after all the youngest Dashrathnandan’s birthday.
“What’s the matter didi? You seem in a happier mood.” Sumitra’s voice came from the back.
Happily sprinkling crushed almonds, cashews in the kheer I turned to her, “I am happy, Sumitra. Today was the day we were blessed with our brave Sumitranandan!” I knew Sumitra was confused, even I seemed mad to me; my Ram, Sita, and Lakshman were battling the tough life in forests and here I was, being happy.
“Sumitra,” I grabbed her by shoulders, “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for giving birth to our Lakshman and Shatrughan, but I am, very thankful! Today was the day my Shatrughan was born!”
“Yes didi, but you know he won’t come out today.”
“Then I’ll offer this to Narayan and make him more tomorrow!” Excitedly, I stirred the kheer, humming a cheerful tone.
“Let Kaikeyi do this, Sumitra. Let her shower her love on the only son we have right now.” Kaushalya didi fondly added more cardamom and almonds and saffron.
“Sumitra, I have given it a lot of thought, we’ve been so consumed by the grief of separation from our three sons that we completely forgot that there is one with us, who had stood tall and strong when none of us could.” My eyes moistened as I recalled Shatrughan’s face agonised due to loneliness and despair.
“Kaikeyi is right, had Shatrughan not been here, Ayodhya would have dwindled long ago. He, Shrutkirti and Mandavi are the glue that holds our family together. While we were immersed in sorrow, he, not caring about his own feelings, consoled us. We never thought that he might need the same consolation too.” Kaushalya didi took Sumitra’s hands in hers, “This is our apology for not being there for him. This is our love for him that we forgot to shower on him.”
“Didi...” A tear rolled down my cheek as Sumitra crashed into me, sobbing, for the first time. She cried and cried and cried but her tears continued to flow endlessly. I knew this was coming, there is only so much that a person can keep in themselves. Sumitra had been our column of support over the years, now is my chance to be that support to her.
Springs passed, the summers passed, winters passed; now it was spring again. Holi was just around the corner; stalls in Ayodhya were laden with various shades of pink, green and orange but it was dull. It all seemed dull to me, without my children, my daughter Urmila. She was still asleep. Oh! What had happened to my child? Oh, Lord!
“Urmila didi! Urmila didi!” Shrutkirti came running in with hands filled with colours, “Urmila didi, today’s Holi! Your favourite festival! See, get up and look how bright this morning is. Get up Urmila didi! Can you feel the chilly winds, in this bright sunny day?”
“Kirti, Urmi is...”
“Mata, Urmila didi loves the chill that wind carries, she loves the sky coloured in bright sunshine. In Mithila, Urmila didi would always get up earliest of us all then she’d pray to the Lord then after she used to spend all day playing Holi with the kids of Mata Gargi’s ashram.” My youngest daughter-in-law! Who would say she is the same overtly sensitive child, “Ram jijashree would never want us to wallow in self-pity and neither would Sita didi or Lakshman jijashree, Mata.”
Skipping to the windows, she opened all the curtains and the sunlight flowed in, illuminating the room. “Since Urmi didi cannot go out, some sunlight here in her room would do her some good.”
In that moment Kirti sounded so small and lost. I am happy the child in her hadn’t died but perhaps it was the quiver in her voice that once again reminded me of the bond of four sisters. My eyes welled up, “Don’t get disheartened Kirti, your Sita didi will be back soon and your Urmila didi would then be up and around pulling pranks like always.”
“Urmi didi is brave, she is the exact image of Sita didi, Ram jijashree says but I’m afraid mata. I’m afraid that years of sleep and separation from Lakshman jijashree would take away my Urmi didi.”
“That cannot happen, Kirti! My Urmila is very strong, stronger than we know; nothing will take her away from us.” I carefully caressed Urmila’s head, she looked so delicate. The colour of her face had faded over the years, making her look like a porcelain doll. What will I say to Lakshman? Kirti was right; it felt as if Urmila’s vigour too was fading away like her complexion. Oh, Lakshman! Do not take any longer, son!
“Mata is right Shrutkirti,” Shatrughan entered.
He sat near the feet of Urmila, his eyes reflected the pain, the suffering of a brother, “Just two more years bhabhi, he’ll be back then. Just give bhrata Lakshman two more years, just two more years.”
I felt as if he was consoling himself more than Urmila. Oh, the cruelty of destiny! The brothers who came in this world together, lived together, and played together had been separated for twelve years now. And the fate hadn’t allowed younger Saumitrey to break down yet. Forgive your mother, son. Forgive me for this sin I committed all those years back.
“Swami? It has been twelve years, when would Bharat jijashree come back? Ram jijashree would have never wanted that sort of life for his brother.”
Shatrughan’s eyes never moved from the portrait of the royal family that his bhabhi had painted, if anything the fog of emotions in his eyes only grew stronger. “You know Kirti, you know the answer to that,” cradling his head in his hands, “You know what Bharat bhaiya’s answer would be.”
If possible, my heart broke just a bit more seeing the dilemma of my son and daughter-in-law. Unable to witness anymore pain that I’ve caused to my children, I quietly removed myself from Urmila’s chambers and went straight to Narayan’s temple.
“O Supreme Lord, do not be so cruel on this old hag, return my family and their happiness to me, please. Narayan, people say you pardon all the sins when someone repents with true heart, when will you pardon me? I know my mistakes were grave but my family is innocent and pure, please do not punish them for my deeds. Return my Ram to me. Return my Ram to me!” Not thinking about my image or time, I wailed and cried but my sins were too great for the Lord didn’t listen.
I should have known my Ram, he’d never say no to his father or any of his mothers. Oh! Why did I do this?
Disclaimer: This short story is partially a figment of my imagination. I do not intend to hurt anybody’s sentiments or feelings. My sole aim while writing this was to try to portray the feelings of guilt and sorrow ridden mother and her family. There are many strong characters and beautiful family members who probably don’t get enough space in Ramayana. I hope people enjoy this.
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