Meeting the King: When Wishes Come True.

Of Love, Duty, and Sacrifice.

Please be sure to read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4 first.

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Soon, the twins grew hungry. Having set out to explore the woods, they had stumbled upon an adventure instead, unprepared.

While awaiting the arrival of the army or the King for another round of battle, they realized they also needed to feed their prisoner.

Informing Hanuman of this errand, they left him and the horse in the fields, then hurried back to the ashram.

They looked in on their mother, the Queen, but she was engrossed in completing her ritual, and not wanting to disturb her, the twins foraged the spare pantry and collected odds and ends in the shape of fruits, snacks, and for Hanuman, bananas. For they didn’t know what a monkey-human ate.

They rustled up a picnic basket and replenished supplies they thought might be good to have, and set off on their return journey, only to be waylaid by other children in the ashram.

Wanting to know where they were during the days, the children were adamant about being told what was going on.

Upon excitedly informing the other children about the victory in battle, they were met with shock.

Despite being on the border, the ashram was technically part of the King’s overlay region. How could the twins be so bold as to challenge the King’s army to a battle?

The other children tried to dissuade them from continuing this mad plan, warning of the sage's potential anger at their intransigence.

The twins simply shrugged it off, saying that their Guru would be proud of their defense of the ashram. They asserted that as warriors, they were justified in challenging the King's proclamation.

The other children remained unconvinced and watched as the twins walked into the woods with their basket.

Though appearing confident in front of the other kids, the twins questioned each other if they had made a mistake.

But, when they recollected the sad story of the Queen, and the easy victories they had achieved, they grew confident again that they would meet the King and seek justice for her.

Returning to the clearing, they fed the horse first, and then Hanuman, in that order.

Hanuman did not question where they went or came from, as he had a pretty good guess as to where they may have been living all this while.

The children, tired from the fighting, settled down under the trees and took a nap while Hanuman watched them thoughtfully.

Meanwhile, the King was on his way to the border with a small replacement force for his tired soldiers. He was glad to get away, even if it was to investigate the threat of the horse being held by children.

For he would not have admitted this to anyone else, but the rituals had taken a toll on his peace of mind.

As long as he distracted himself and immersed himself in the daily grind and administrative burdens, he felt sheltered from his own heart’s treacherous thoughts.

But ever since the rituals began, sitting next to Sita’s golden form made escape impossible.

Following the priests’ instructions to worship the sacrificial Gods meant hours of focus on the fire, the ritual, and the form seated next to him.

This he found taxing and found himself wondering what could have been in his life—wondering for the umpteenth time where Sita was, how she was coping, if she thought of him without rancor, and if she would ever forgive him. Then, he chided himself for such expectations, as he considered himself undeserving of such considerations.

He remembered the cool breeze of Panchavati, where Sita and he had lived during the first thirteen years of their exile. Despite having little in the manner of worldly possessions, the whole natural world and a small hut in the middle of it was their home.

The birds, the flowers, the trees, and the stream that flowed nearby—what a simple, carefree life that was, without the burden of duty, crown, and responsibility for other people in the kingdom.

They were free to live the day as they saw fit, and in the evening by the crackling fire, as the owl hooted, Lakshmana made them laugh with stories of his attempts to grow vegetables for their kitchen.

Sometimes, Sita sang her favorite musical notes, and her voice carried by the wind, soothed their tired minds, and hearts, on days when they missed everyone left behind, their mothers, the rest of the family, and Lakshmana, his wife.

As he rode his horse, he felt that those memories that tormented him when performing the rituals were inimical to his peace of mind.

Doing anything, even riding out to meet a couple of children who may be demons in disguise, was a welcome activity to get away from the constant gnawing pain in his heart.

Soon enough, he reached the outskirts of the camp and decided to rest for the night, preparing to confront the situation in the morning. "Enemy," he shook his head, finding it a strange word to use for children.

Upon arriving at the camp, he ensured that matters were being attended to by the family physician, who now had three patients on his hands. The Royal tent, adorned with the Royal flag, was set up, and the King retired for the night.

The next morning, before the sun rose, the King was already dressed. He had become accustomed to the forest hours, even within the palace, stemming from his youth when a sage sought assistance from their father to defend the sage’s sacrificial grounds.

His father, King Dasharatha, had sent him and his brother to accompany the sage. They were but 15 or 16 years old, yet they had diligently kept watch over the sage’s sacrificial fires to prevent any demon from vitiating them, and they had succeeded.

Now, to think that he was going out to confront mere boys of that age and recover the Ashwamedha horse from them. He shook his head.

He instructed the soldiers to wait at the camp for him until he sent word.

Alone, he mounted his horse, dressed in his royal attire, with his bow and arrow strapped behind him. His face showed no signs of tiredness from the previous evening’s ride. As he rode out of the camp that morning, he appeared, to all who saw him, as the great warrior King that he was, riding confidently to face the day.

The next morning, the children, accustomed to early morning ashram routines, dressed and made their way to the clearing. They fed the horse and shared breakfast with Hanuman, consisting of apples and bananas.

The stage was set for a confrontation that was both unexpected and fated.

These innocent children, long denied knowledge of their father, were raised by a mother whose real name they were not even aware of. Under the guidance of a wise sage, who had taught them science, music, mystic arts, and warfare, they waited eagerly in the clearing that autumn morning.

They sought justice for a Queen they had never even met, understanding her only through the sage’s stories, which had captivated their hearts and minds. Their belief that she was wronged fueled their conviction.

Challenging a horse was an act so outrageous as to border on insubordination to the King. Not content with merely challenging the horse, they had also defeated and rendered ineffective all of the brave soldiers of the King, including his brothers and his devoted monkey-warrior, Hanuman.

However, beneath all their bravado, they were still two teenagers—young, courageous, and desperately seeking an audience with the great warrior King.

They had heard much of the King's valor, singing his deeds daily in the ashram under the sage's guidance, who had chronicled the King’s life story to be remembered throughout the ages.

Thus, on a bright and early morning when the Sun had just woken up and stretched its arms, the King rode across his lands, reined in his horse, and stood in front of the clearing, taking in the scene before him.

The sacrificial horse, he noted casually, was grazing freely nearby. Two young boys were sitting on the ground, each eating an apple and engaged in conversation with Hanuman, who seemed quite content to be bound and rendered ineffective under a peepul tree.

What sixth sense made the boys look up, we shall never know, but instantly they rose to their feet, swiftly grabbed their bows and quivers, and ran to assume a battlefield stance, with their bows drawn and arrows strung across them.

For the first time, the King came face to face with his sons. He looked at them and felt a strange feeling of calm. Instead of anger, he felt love. What Maya was this, he thought to himself. What demon could cause him to feel so?

In a kind tone, he asked them to identify themselves to him.

But, Kusha, the elder one, and Lava, the younger, were both struck dumb.

Never in their wildest dreams had they seen anyone appear as the King now appeared to them.

Resplendent in his royal attire, wearing a golden diamond-studded crown, with a face so handsome that no equal could be found on Earth, his demeanor compelled those fortunate enough to come across it to stare as though intoxicated.

The twins had not imagined that when they sought the King, they would encounter him in person in such a manner: seated on his horse, his jeweled right hand holding the reins of his magnificent steed quietly, his ringed left hand placed lightly on his left thigh, his eyes holding just a hint of puzzlement as he gazed down at them, a gentle half-smile subconsciously forming on his lips.

Their young imagination, when they set out on this quest, had not considered what they would feel when they encountered the famed King Rama in person. All thoughts of seeking justice for the Queen went out the door, for this person could not have harmed anyone, they thought, as they drank in the details of his face and the magnetism of his divine form.

His half-smile became more pronounced at their silence. The King dismounted and approached them slowly.

Nearing them, he asked again for their names.

Normally, the custom would be to introduce oneself as named, followed by the father or mother’s name. So Kusha, the son of Rama, or Lava, the son of Sita, would have been proper.

If a person had well-known forefathers, such as in a Royal family, they would add the dynasty as well, and in this case, it would have been that they were from ‘Raghukul’ for Raghu was the first King traced back in King Rama’s lineage, and ‘kul’ meant dynasty.

But in the absence of knowing the real names of their parents, or any name for their father, the children became defiant as they were also embarrassed by their reaction to the King.

Finding their voice as his question awakened their self-respect, they stated boldly, “We are warriors, O King. Fight us, as we have captured your horse. What have our names got to do with anything? We have defeated your army and ask that you engage in battle with us to win your horse.”

Amused at their words, the King said, “Dear children, I am not going to fight you. You are but young and innocent.”

The children became angry hearing these words. “Oh King, you are a warrior and we are the children of a warrior, and are trained in warfare. So fight us, and do not speak to us so, as we have defeated all of your brave warriors and your army.”

Reluctant to engage in war, the King smiled, “Indeed you have. Who taught you such expert warfare? Who is your father, the warrior? I am not going to fight you, for this is not the way. Instead, introduce yourself to me, receive your reward for bravery, and let my horse free.”

The eldest then spoke, “I am Kusha. This is my younger twin brother, Lava. We live in the ashram of the great sage, Valmiki. But beyond this, we shall not share any information. We have legitimately captured your horse, and by your proclamation, you can only recover it by fighting with us as we have already vanquished your army.”

Deflecting, the King looked at Hanuman, still tied and captive, and Hanuman bowed, smiling at the King, “Why have you bound Hanuman? Is that a warrior’s code?”

The twins had been feeling guilty for a day that they had not technically defeated Hanuman, and yet had held him captive, though with his permission. They acknowledged the justice of the King’s remarks and offered, “Hanuman surrendered himself and accepted becoming our captive prisoner. So that is a legitimate code of conduct.”

At this piece of news, which was not previously divulged to the King, he grew pensive.

Why would Hanuman surrender himself to these kids? He glanced at Hanuman for some insight, but Hanuman did not speak or look at Rama any further, lest he give the secret away.

Now, the King grew impatient for adult answers. He demanded the children end these games, release Hanuman, hand over the horse, and take him to their ashram to meet the sage.

The twins stood their ground, refusing once again, just as they had with the King’s brothers, and demanded satisfaction in battle.

The King attempted to reason with them, emphasizing the foolishness of their quest. He warned them that engaging in battle would not be fair and would only result in harm to them. Urging them to abandon their childish fantasies, he requested that they call their parents immediately.

This angered the children. They firmly believed they had proven their prowess as warriors, and being treated as mere teenagers diminished their hard-earned victories.

Stepping back, they warned the King not to use their youth as an excuse to deprive them of the victory they believed was rightfully theirs. They urged him to take up his bow and arrow and face them in battle.

The King, without raising his voice yet with a tone that unmistakably conveyed his anger, spoke, "I, Rama, fight you, a couple of children barely out of your infancy? How dare you challenge me so? Release my horse this instant, and go home to your parents. For if you stay here any longer, then I shall not be responsible for the consequences of your actions."

The children, unafraid now as their inherent beliefs resurfaced, retorted, "We are not afraid, O King Rama. We are not defenseless like Queen Sita, whom you banished from your kingdom in the dark of the night. We are warriors and can defend ourselves."

Rama stood thunderstruck at their words, angered as much by their insinuation as by the unjustness of their accusation.

Stunned that two unknown teenagers from a remote ashram would defend Sita to him - the irony striking him profoundly - he quickly forgot his earlier good intentions. Without fanfare, his eyes ignited by anger, Rama, that foremost exponent of the bow and arrow, raised it now, and aimed it at them.

The teens immediately took up their bows and arrows and stood ready too, though they knew not that they were about to enter into battle, not just with the King, but their father.

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The story is completed, but deserves to be broken into two posts for length. So, here is finale, Part 1 (i.e. Part 5). Read the finale, part 2 (i.e. Part 6) below with detailed contextual notes. Thank you for reading, and sharing your feedback. I am grateful and surprised at the turn of the series for when I wrote the first post, I had no idea that it would develop this far.

Oh, What Heartache Must Endure.