An air of melancholy permeated every brick. The once bustling and colorful streets of Ayodhya looked desolate, and the thresholds, usually turmeric-laden, were barren.

The chamber absorbed the orange light sneaking through the gaps in the windows. Urmila stared at the colossal doors adorned with precious gems, her eyes vacant. An empty sensation formed in her gut, gaining momentum and sapping her vitality. Her legs grew weak, and she collapsed onto the bed, the portion of her saree covering her head cascading onto the floor. Her disheveled hair obscured part of her tear-streaked face. The world around her blurred, the borders becoming hazy as the images coalesced into one lump. A crack formed in this lump, and a figure began to emerge. Footsteps echoed across the room. Her heart thundered, threatening to break through her rib cage.

"Why haven't you lit any lamps?" she heard a voice ask. 

The voice was calm yet deep, laced with concern. It was unmistakably him—Lakshman. She rubbed her weary eyes, and a flicker of light flashed before her. In the glow of the flame dancing in the lantern, she saw him. His eyes shone like a thousand suns, and his well-proportioned frame glistened with sweat.

"Why are you sitting in darkness? Why are the windows closed?" he asked, bringing the lantern closer to her.

The warmth almost burned her skin, and she moved away. He sat beside her, wrapping his arm around her.

"Are you okay, Urmi? Do you want me to call the physician?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"You came," she said, feeling his skin. She ran her hands over his muscular frame, taking in every detail.

"You came, Lakshman," she repeated, her heart racing.

"I'm here, Urmi; I'm with you," he said, stroking her hair. She basked in his warmth, feeling the heat surge through her, and everything around her seemed to brighten.

She bent forward, wanting to embrace him. Suddenly, she stumbled and he was gone. It felt as if the chamber had swallowed him whole. Sweat coursed down her face, mixing with her kohl-streaked tears.

"It wasn't real," she shrieked, pain constricting her throat. The chambermaids rushed in, one of them helping her to sit up and offering her water to drink.

"He is gone. Why didn't he take me with him?" she said, anger ringing in her voice.

"You must rest, princess," said a maid, helping her rest her head on a pillow.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted, her voice hoarse, eyes glaring. The maid trembled and took a step back.

"I need to be alone," she repeated. Her words sounded more like a plea than an order. The maids left the room, closing the door behind them.

Finally, she was alone, as she was destined to be. But who had designed her destiny? Unable to process her thoughts, she closed her eyes and was transported to her haven.

Flowers bloomed under the warm rays of sunlight. Bees buzzed and birds hovered over the blossoms. The sound of bangles jingling and soft footsteps announced Sita's arrival. Her elder sister, Sita—a personification of grace and benevolence—appeared troubled.

"I have been looking for you all over the palace," said Sita, smiling.

Yet behind the smile lingered an unease she had seen before in their father.

"Father has set a date for my swayamvar ten days from now," Sita said, her demeanor stoic.

Urmila guessed correctly; Sita's marriage was what concerned King Janak. Sita, with her large, doe-like eyes, warm and enchanting smile, and divine aura, brought comfort and joy to everyone around her. She carried herself with poise and elegance, her presence calming and reassuring, yet her marriage had not yet materialized.

King Janak set a condition: only the man who could lift and string the Pinaka bow, gifted to him by Lord Shiva, would be given Sita's hand in marriage. Kings and princes from across the world attempted the challenge, but none succeeded.

                                                                   ***********

While strolling in the lush greenery, the earthy scent of flowers enveloping them, Urmila noticed two young men guided by an elderly bearded man walking past. For a brief moment, she stood rooted to the spot as if she had witnessed something extraordinary, not knowing that her life was about to change.

***

Urmila and her friends rested under a leafy canopy. The branches swayed, and the leaves rustled, creating a gentle melody. The breeze carried a mix of chill and warmth. Temple bells chimed, and she looked up at the sky. The sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the mortal world in a sea of crimson. Under the evening light, she saw him. For a fleeting moment, everything around her turned hazy. His eyes, reflecting the greenery, shone like emeralds. He appeared to be constantly on the lookout, his hand tightly gripping the bow. Every breath he took seemed measured and controlled. A grim look crossed his face, but then a soft expression washed over him for an instant. Was he smiling? She tilted her head to get a better look. His lips parted, and his eyes twinkled for a brief moment before he pursed them again. She was certain he had seen her. Who was he? In an instant, he cats his spell on her. The world around her transformed into a paradise, and her heart danced to an ethereal tune.

***

The palace was cocooned in floral resplendence. The sun shone brighter than ever, bestowing its blessings. The Pinaka bow majestically occupied center stage in the royal court. Kings and princes from across the land waited for their turn, but weren't able to lift the bow, let alone string it. King Janak clenched his jaws, the lines on his forehead deepening with every passing minute. Sweat droplets glistened on his brow as he watched the skilled warriors fail. He stood up, ready to draw the ceremony to a close when a sage entered the royal court, accompanied by two young men. Urmila's heart raced in her chest, her face growing pale. Would he take part in the swayamvar? Dejection swept over her as he sat on one of the cushioned seats. The other man, likely his brother, looked at him, and he nodded approvingly. Urmila watched him in a trance, hardly blinking, as the other man approached the bow, lifted it, and strung it. Only when the hall erupted in whispers did she break free from her spell.

King Janak descended the stairs without bothering to adjust his crown or robe. He extended his arms and embraced the man, tears cascading down his cheeks onto the young man's shoulders. The man joined his palms and bowed his head in reverence, introducing himself as Ram, the son of King Dasarath. Sita, who witnessed Ram's feat from the royal gallery, walked toward him with a garland in her hands, her gaze lowered. Urmila followed her, furtively glancing at the man standing behind Ram. He appeared more relaxed and visibly happy. His hands were free of the bow, but the string had left an imprint on his right shoulder.

"The other man is Lakshman, Ram's younger brother," giggled the woman accompanying Sita.

"Lakshman," Urmila repeated the name in her mind.

Lakshman smiled as Ram whispered something into his ear. His subtle smile lit up a thousand lamps in Urmila's heart. He stood two feet behind his brother, attentive to everything Ram said and left unsaid. His eyes reflected a deep devotion toward Ram. The man was not just loyal to his elder brother; he cared for him deeply. Urmila felt that they were similar in many ways. As thoughts swirled in her mind, he turned and looked at her. She quickly looked down, but his gaze continued to pierce through her.

"Give Sita the garland," her father's voice called her back to reality.

She looked up and saw that everyone’s eyes were fixed on her. Sita raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. As she handed the garland to Sita, Urmila inadvertently glanced at Lakshman. He grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. A warm, jittery sensation spread through her.

"O King Janak, my salutations to you," spoke Ram, joining his palms in reverence.

"It is important for me to have my father, King Dasarath's, presence and blessings before I marry. I request that we wait for him," he said, his eyes lowered in respect.

"I will send word to King Dasarath, Ram. Go ahead with the garland ceremony," Sage Vishwamitra intervened, placing his hand on Ram's shoulder. Ram nodded respectfully and bowed his head. Sita then placed the garland around his neck. As everyone showered flowers over Ram and Sita, Urmila's gaze was fixed solely on Lakshman. A few petals landed on his shoulders, and she noticed a pinkish hue spreading across his cheeks. Just as she was about to look away, he met her gaze. At that moment, under the cascade of flowers, their hearts intertwined in a weave of love.

Five days passed. King Dasarath arrived with his entourage, while his queens remained in Ayodhya. Queen Sunayana accompanied King Janak to welcome Dasarath, while Urmila stayed in Sita's chamber.

"Go with Mother and give me a detailed account of everything," Urmila instructed a maid. The royal attendants applied a paste of sandalwood and turmeric laced with rose extracts on Sita's skin. Incense sticks burned, leaving a pleasant scent in the air. Although Urmila monitored the progress, part of her mind wandered to the royal court. She longed to catch sight of Lakshman, with his fierce yet endearing eyes teasing her.

 "You are not being yourself, Urmi," Sita remarked, concerned.

"Oh, I'm fine, sister," Urmila replied with a smile, splashing water over Sita.

"You can talk to me about whatever is troubling you," Sita persisted.

"I know," said Urmila, applying paste onto Sita's cheeks.

"You need to relax. The 'to-be' bride needs to look calm and fresh," she added, looking away.

On any other day, Urmila would have poured her heart out. But this was Sita's special moment, and she didn’t want to burden her sister. Yet, Urmila was in love, and a part of her believed that Lakshman liked her too. Or was it just her imagination? She couldn’t share her feelings with anyone until she received a sign from him.

"Princess," a maid rushed in, interrupting Urmila's thoughts.

"King Dasarath wants all his sons to get married on the same day," the maid said, gasping for breath.

Urmila and Sita exchanged glances, trying to process the information, while the maid continued, "King Janak proposed that Bharat and Shatrughan marry your cousins Mandavi and Shrutakeerthi, and that you marry Lakshman."

Colors swirled and blended before Urmila's eyes as the maid's words echoed in her ears. She felt the ground shift beneath her, and her vision blurred. Grasping for support, she reached out and sat on the bare floor.

"Are you okay, Urmi?" Sita asked, stepping out of the tub.

She shook Urmila vigorously while sprinkling water over her face. After a moment, Urmila straightened up.

"Are you not okay with Father's proposal? I can talk to him..." Sita began to speak when Urmila stood up sharply.

"I approve of Father's proposal," Urmila said, still reeling from the sudden change of events.

Urmila's face glowed under the sunlight streaming through the windows; her eyes shimmered like diamonds. Her cheeks turned a rosy hue, and melodious tunes seemed to ring in her ears.

"I'm so happy, Urmi. We will live together forever," Sita exclaimed, hugging Urmila tightly, her tears wetting Urmila's fabric.

The maids broke into cheerful chatter, and the chamber felt brighter than the sun.

"It seems like you sisters received the news," Queen Sunayana entered.

The maids took a step back as Sunayana dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

"I can see that both of you are happy too," she continued, embracing them.

"You girls must always be there for each other. Always have each other's back," she whispered.

A week later

Mithila radiated an unparalleled brilliance. King Janak and Queen Sunayana watched as their daughters walked to the pavilion, their hearts flooded with overwhelming emotions. Clad in a pink saree adorned with emeralds, Urmila looked divine. Her large eyes sparkled with unbridled enthusiasm as she prepared to begin a new chapter in her life. Lakshman stood before her, his back straight as a stick and his gaze unwavering. A fleeting smile crossed his face, and Urmila noticed that his cheeks were flushed. They exchanged garlands, and Lakshman smeared vermilion on her forehead and tied a mangal sutra around her neck.

The initial enthusiasm faded, replaced by a fear of entering an unknown territory. However, she felt comforted by the fact that Sita would be with her. The sisters bid farewell to their parents, home, and city, the ceremony filled with tears and unspoken thoughts. Lakshman extended his hand to help her onto the chariot. The evening rays painted the landscape in shades of orange and pink, filling the air with a sense of excitement, while solitude enveloped them.

"Are you comfortable?" Lakshman asked, the lines on his forehead easing.

She nodded.

"Do you like me? I hope our marriage wasn't forced upon you," he said, his tone filled with apprehension.

She nodded again, avoiding his gaze, surprised by her inability to find the words.

"You can talk, can't you?" Lakshman said, smiling.

Her heart raced in her chest, her blood rushing like a waterfall. If only he could hear her heartbeat. If only he could see the emotions etched in her heart. If only she could tell him how much she adored him. If only words came as easily to her as they usually did. Lakshman cleared his throat, gently prompting her to speak.

"I like you," she said, covering her face with her palms. 

"I will always be there for you, supporting you in both favorable and unfavorable times, I promise," he replied, gently enveloping her hand in his. 

She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat beneath her hand.

The initial days in Ayodhya slipped by like a whirlwind. Lakshman was like a cool breeze on a scorching afternoon. His love nourished her soul like raindrops on parched land. Though he was away for work on most days, he never missed an opportunity to pamper her. While he wasn't adept at public displays of affection, he would often steal glances at her and smile. Her face would turn crimson, and she would chuckle, drawing the attention of the elders around them. He would immediately assume a stoic expression, leaving her feeling embarrassed.

On some nights, he read poetry to her, the moonlight illuminating his dark eyes, which held an ocean's depth, inviting her to get lost in them. Dressed as commoners, they enjoyed attending ballads performed by folk singers.

A decade flew by. Lakshman worked for longer hours, waking up earlier than Ram, but he remained behind the scenes, evading attention. She had once admired Lakshman’s loyalty to his brother. It surprised her how the quality she had once adored now pricked at her. She feared that his limitless devotion to Ram would cause a rift in their marriage.

***

King Dasarath announced Ram’s coronation, a declaration that ushered in widespread celebrations and excitement. Lakshman was exuberant, his smile reaching his eyes. He laughed, letting his guard down, and his bow lay on the floor unattended. He appeared relaxed and calm, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor.

“This is the best day of my life, Urmi,” he said, hugging her.

A deep sadness enveloped her. Wasn’t their wedding day the best day of his life? But she remained silent, unwilling to eclipse his joy with her thoughts.

***

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the last rays of light faded into the shadows. The moon rose into view, but there was no sign of Lakshman. The steaming delicacies she had prepared turned ice cold.

She beckoned a soldier and said, “Find Lakshman and tell him that his wife awaits his arrival.”

The soldier didn’t move. He lowered his eyes, his grip on the spear loosening.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she asked, her voice tinged with anger.

“Princess, aren’t you aware of the upheaval?” he replied.

She looked at him questioningly, urging him to clarify.

“King Dasarath has—” Before the soldier could elaborate, she heard footsteps echoing against the floor. Lakshman entered the chamber and ordered the soldier to leave. His eyes burned with fiery intensity. He slammed his clenched fist against the table, leaving a dent, and his muscles tensed, accentuating his jawline.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Haven’t you heard?” he thundered.

She shivered as the lamps flickered in response to his anger.

“What are you not telling me?” she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Father has decided to coronate Bharath as king and has asked Ram to spend fourteen years in the forest,” Lakshman seethed.

She stood rooted to the spot, unable to comprehend the revelation.

“Sita Maa is accompanying him,” he added, deepening her distress.

"So am I," he said, not looking at her. She froze, her mind refusing to accept the words echoing in her ears. The earth beneath her felt shattered, the fragments stabbing at her. Her thoughts whirled, her face turned pale, and she leaned against him, trying to grasp anything to stop herself from falling. The commotion outside pulled her back to reality.

"I'm coming with you," she said firmly.

A sudden tenderness washed over him. He stared into the distance as he spoke. "I need you to stay here, Urmi, and take care of Mother."

"We promised we would stay together at all times. It's my duty to support you during these tough times," she insisted, holding his hand tightly.

"Forests are dangerous. I need to make sure you are safe," he replied.

"Sita is going," she said, her eyelids wet with tears.

"Urmi, my primary duty is to safeguard my brother and sister-in-law. If you come with me, I won’t be able to perform my responsibilities sincerely," Lakshman said, wiping away the tears rolling down her face.

"What about your duty towards me?" she asked, her gaze piercing.

"I'm sorry, Urmi. I have wronged you. I'll spend the rest of my life seeking your forgiveness. But right now, you must stay in Ayodhya. We will be leaving tomorrow morning," he declared, turning away.

The next morning, Ram, Sita, and Lakshman left Ayodhya, clad in bark cloth. Urmi hugged Lakshman, her tears creating an obstacle between them.

"Be strong, Urmi. You must do this for my sake," he said gently as he let her go.

She watched as the chariot raced away and vanished, her heart raging like an inferno. Her love for Lakshman tempered the flames, but the embers crackled, reigniting the fire.

***

"Urmila," a voice boomed out of nowhere, bringing her back to the present.

She looked around, only to find darkness surrounding her.

"I'm Nidra Devi. Lakshman prayed to me to grant him the ability to remain awake during the entire period of exile so he could vigilantly protect Ram and Sita. Moved by his devotion, I blessed him. To ensure that Lakshman fulfills his vow, I must transfer the sleep to you. From now on, you will remain asleep for the next fourteen years," declared Nidra Devi as she began to chant.

First, he confined her to a solitary life, breaking their wedding vows, and now he was asking for her to trade her sleep for his. His devotion cost her her happiness, togetherness, self-worth, and life. Her breathing became short and sharp as frustration lingered on her tongue. She paced back and forth, overwhelmed by her emotions. Before she could fully process her refusal, her eyelids grew heavy, weakness washed over her, and sleep began to embrace her.

As she lay asleep, her subconscious juggled between anger and forgiveness, resentment and love, turmoil and calm. The jagged edges of these feelings prodded at her soul, preventing peace from settling within her. She lay desolate, forgotten by time, her eyes closed, yet her heart longed and pined for Lakshman, yearning to see him, to feel the warmth of his skin, and to truly feel alive.