Week 9 Short Story Collection: Finding Peace

(Sita in Exile, Wikimedia Commons)

Sita:

--Fourteen Years Ago--

"Forgive me, Sita...I was wrong to have doubted your devotion."

And yet, only two years after Rama embraced me and begged for my forgiveness, he has once again doubted me. The only difference now was instead of Rama telling me himself, he sent poor Lakshmana to break the news. My gentle brother-in-law had tears in his eyes as he turned his chariot back to the city, leaving me alone in the forest. Well, I was not truly alone. I laid a gentle hand on my distended belly and felt the kicks of two children, already play wrestling at such a young age. I would survive this trial for my unborn children. I would raise them on my own, being both mother and father for them. I might still love Rama with all my heart, but I knew that I could never trust him again. I must look out for myself now.

--Present Day--

I stood on the wrong side of a hall that was mine a lifetime ago. In front of me, Rama was seated on his throne, my sons given places of honor at his left. His arms were outstretched, there was only one thing stopping me from running into his embrace. 

He needed more proof of my fidelity.

As if walking through fire was not enough.

My eyes swam with tears. Rama promised that this was the last test, and yet I could not trust his soothing words. There would always be someone who doubted me, and because of his immense pride, Rama would need to prove them wrong.

My heart ached for rest. I looked to the floor, wishing that the earth would swallow me and let me be at peace. At once, a soothing voice filled my head:

I can grant your wish, Sita. Child born of the furrows, let me take you home.

I whispered, "yes." 

Immediately, the earth parted at my feet and I fell gently through the deep brown soil. Finally, I had found peace.

Promila:

Today, I was going to die. 

And yet, part of me was already dead.

I was an empty shell, hollowed out when I heard the news:

"Indrajit is dead."

My Indrajit...dead.

I willed the tears in my eyes to not fall as I stood up and walked out of my room, down the grand staircase, and into the palace courtyard. The path was lined with my dearest companions. As I passed, I removed jewels and bracelets from my outfit. I pressed a trinket into each hand and willed myself to smile for each friend.

A final gift, a parting smile.

Standing next to the unlit pyre stood Indrajit's parents. I greeted them as my own mother and father, they had done so much for me since I married their son. They returned my greeting, lips set solemnly while their eyes begged me to not climb onto the pyre. They had already lost so much, but I could not bear life without my beloved.

It was time.

I ascended the pyre and began my final rites. I knelt at the feet of my husband's body and bowed, kissing his feet. I then carefully made my way to Indrajit's head. My heart wrenched at the sight of him, it looked like he was only sleeping. Even at his funeral, I could not believe he was gone. I sat behind his head and gently placed it into my lap. I stroked a stray curl from his forehead before I turned to the crowd and nodded.

At my signal, a torch was lowered to bottom corner of the pyre and the flames spread to the dry wood immediately. Soon, I was surrounded by deep orange flames. I did not feel any pain in these last moments, there was only peace. I kissed my husband's forehead and closed my eyes

"Wait for me Indrajit, I will be with you soon."

Author's Note: I originally wanted to write three stories for Sita, Promila, and Shakuntala each, but after writing Promila's story, I knew that a third story would bury the unplanned theme of Sita and Promila's stories. Both of these women loved their husbands deeply and reacted to two life-changing tragedies in different ways. In my Week 4 Story about Sita, I wrote a happy ending, oblivious of the future trials Rama would put Sita through. After reading about those trials this week, I knew I had to finish Sita's story with the correct ending this time. She still loved Rama, but his constant tests left her with the bitter knowledge that she could never be enough for her prideful husband. Because of this, she chose to love herself first and accept the peace given to her by the earth. As for Promila's story, it was sudden tragedy--and not conscious choice--that separated her from Indrajit. Throughout their marriage, Indrajit and Promila were inseparable, and now that Indrajit was gone, Promila peacefully followed him once more.

Biography: Sita's Story and Promila's Story in Nine Ideal Indian Women by Sunity Devee