B R Chopra Ramayan - Page 29

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“Moonlight After Exile: A Promise of Forever” 🌙✨

Under the silver light of the full moon, Ayodhya finally slept in peace. The long years of exile had ended, and the kingdom now shimmered with celebration and relief. But away from the festive courtyards, on the quiet balcony of the palace, Lakshman and Urmila found a moment just for themselves.

Lakshman reclined on a cushioned seat, the soft breeze rustling his shawl. The moonlight outlined his calm face, so unlike the fierce warrior Urmila had imagined every night of those long fourteen years. Tonight, he looked simply like the man she had once playfully teased in Mithila—the man whose laughter had been her favorite sound.

Urmila approached quietly, her turquoise sari glinting faintly under the moon. Lakshman opened his eyes and smiled, a warmth spreading across his face.

“You should be resting,” he said softly. “You’ve been greeting people all day.”

“So should you,” she replied, settling beside him. “But somehow, I think you’re enjoying the moon more than your sleep.”

Lakshman chuckled. “For years, the moon was my only companion on long nights of guarding. I used to think of you whenever I looked at it.”

Her heart softened at his words. “Then I suppose,” she whispered, “we both spoke to the same moon.”

There was a pause—comfortable, full of all the unspoken stories between them.

Lakshman turned toward her, his eyes thoughtful. “Fourteen years of exile… and yet, I feel I’ve known peace only now, sitting beside you.”

Urmila smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock from his forehead. “And what will you do with all this peace, my prince?”

He pretended to ponder. “Hmm… perhaps build us a small garden. You can fill it with flowers, and I’ll guard them like they’re the gates of Ayodhya.”

She laughed, a sound that danced in the night air. “You and your guarding! Must everything be a duty for you?”

He grinned. “If it keeps you smiling, it’s no duty—it’s joy.”

The moon climbed higher, casting its blessing upon them. In that moment, there were no memories of forests, no echoes of exile—only two souls, reunited under the sky that had watched over their love from afar.

And as Urmila rested her head on his shoulder, Lakshman whispered, “No more separations. From now on, every dawn and every dusk—we’ll face them together.”

She closed her eyes, smiling. “Together, always.”

The night wind carried their promise through the palace, where the scent of jasmine and the murmur of distant hymns lingered—marking the beginning of a gentler, happier chapter in their story. 🌙💛

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Golden Bonds of Ayodhya

The golden halls of Ayodhya shimmered softly in the afternoon light. Perfumed air drifted through carved archways as bells chimed faintly in the distance, announcing the arrival of the new brides.

Sumitra stood near a pillar adorned with jasmine garlands, her face glowing with affection. Draped in a graceful rose gold saree, she welcomed her daughters-in-law—Urmila and Shrutakirti—who stood before her, their crimson veils glinting with gold. Their eyes sparkled with the nervous joy of new beginnings.

“Come closer, my dear ones,” Sumitra said, her voice gentle yet regal. “Let me see your faces properly. Ayodhya’s light has truly doubled today.”

Urmila, always soft-spoken, blushed and adjusted her veil slightly. “Mata, it is your kindness that makes us glow. The city itself feels like a dream… so grand, yet so full of warmth.”

Shrutakirti nodded eagerly, her youthful enthusiasm bubbling over. “Yes, Mata! Even the walls seem to sing! We had heard so much about Ayodhya, but being here… it feels like stepping into a story.”

Sumitra laughed softly, her bangles chiming. “A story indeed, my child. And you both are part of its newest chapter.” She reached forward, gently touching their foreheads in blessing. “You bring joy to our home—and to your husbands’ hearts, no doubt.”

Urmila smiled shyly, her thoughts flitting to Lakshman’s ever-protective gaze during their journey. “We only wish to serve this family with love and devotion, Mata. Your blessings are all we need.”

Shrutakirti, ever playful, added with a giggle, “And perhaps a little guidance too… I might need help remembering which corridor leads to the royal kitchen.”

Sumitra chuckled, shaking her head affectionately. “Ah, the royal kitchen! You sound just like I did when I first came here as a bride. Don’t worry, child—soon you’ll know every corner of this palace, even the secret one where Kaikeyi hides her sweets.”

The three women burst into gentle laughter, the sound echoing softly against the golden pillars. In that moment, the grandeur of Ayodhya felt smaller, warmer—filled not with royal pomp, but with the tender music of family.

Sumitra held their hands, one on each side, and said with quiet pride,
“My sons are brave warriors, but today, I see their true fortune—because they have you.”

The two young brides bowed their heads, hearts full. The palace lamps flickered brighter, as if blessing the new bonds being woven in its sacred halls.

Sumitra guided Urmila and Shrutakirti through the long, ornate corridor that led toward the queen’s inner chambers. The scent of sandalwood and fresh flowers followed them, mingling with the faint hum of palace life beyond.

As they walked, she spoke softly—her tone both proud and reflective. “You know, my dear ones, I am the second queen of Ayodhya. Not the eldest, nor the youngest… and yet the Lord blessed me with twin sons. Strange, isn’t it?”

Urmila’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Not strange, Mata—divine, perhaps. The youngest sons, yet both so noble and brave. Arya's devotion to the eldest brother is like the moon’s devotion to the sun.”

Sumitra smiled at that, a glimmer of tenderness lighting her face. “Ah, you’ve already understood him well, my child. Lakshman has always been fiery—sharp of word, quick to act. But beneath that fire is a heart softer than butter. And Shatrughna, my other jewel… a replica of his elder twin, in behaviour and grace, both wise beyond their years.”

“Another interesting point, the younger twins married the younger daughters of kings Siradhvaj and Kushadhvaj respectively.” She added with a smile. The cousins smiled in approval.

Shrutakirti beamed, her voice playful but reverent. “It seems the Lord gave each of your sons a perfect match, Mata. I only hope we can live up to their goodness.”

Sumitra stopped for a moment, turning to face them. The light caught her gold ornaments, making her appear almost ethereal. “My dears, goodness in this palace is not measured by grandeur or words—it’s measured by the love we give, the respect we hold. That is what has kept peace among us queens for all these years.”

They reached the threshold of her chamber, where soft curtains of silk swayed like waves. Inside, golden lamps flickered, casting warm shadows on the carved walls.

Sumitra motioned for them to sit beside her. “You see, Kaushalya is the eldest among us. She has always carried herself with dignity, her heart wide as the Ganga. She taught me patience, and the grace to lead without pride. And Kaikeyi… though younger, she is bold, spirited. She reminds me that love, too, has courage.”

Urmila and Shrutakirti listened intently, their faces glowing with admiration.

Sumitra continued, her voice softening with memory. “When I first entered this palace, I was unsure of my place—neither the first wife nor the last. But in time, I learned that Ayodhya’s strength lies not in rank, but in unity. We three queens may have different opinions, but never the differences in our bond—for our king, our sons, and this land.”

Urmila folded her hands respectfully. “You honor them so beautifully, Mata. It must be through such love that Ayodhya stays blessed.”

Sumitra placed a hand on each of their heads, her touch as light as silk. “And now, it is your turn to weave your threads into this family. Remember—every word you speak, every gesture you make, becomes part of the tapestry of Ayodhya.”

Shrutakirti nodded eagerly. “We will, Mata. We promise. And… perhaps someday, you’ll tell us how to keep the balance between boldness and patience—like you do.”

Sumitra chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with affection. “Ah, that balance is learned over many seasons, my dear. But with hearts as pure as yours, I believe Ayodhya’s next season will be a golden one.”

Outside, the palace bells chimed once more, echoing through the courtyards like a gentle blessing—as if Ayodhya itself smiled at the new bonds forming within its golden walls.

And so began their life in Ayodhya—not with ceremony, but with laughter, love, and the gentle promise of a family growing closer with each golden dawn.

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I really liked your take on the lesser explored characters in Ramayan

I like getting insights on their characters event hough it's a headcanon.