#ramayan

Sita couldn't help but blame herself for all of it.

But then, who else was to be blamed, if not her? All of this, the swayamvar, the condition, Father's determination to not bend for anyone, all of this was for her sake only. Father just wanted her happiness, someone who deserved to be her husband. And look where it brought them all, to the brink of starvation.

Videha produced enough food to feed their population. They grew ample amount of paddy and vegetables, had enough fishes in their ponds and lakes, to survive. But they needed trade. Videha sent a major chunk of their grains to western and northern Aryavart. Now with a blockade created around the boundaries of their kingdom, it was getting hard to sustain without the trade. And their allies could do nothing, since neither Banga nor Pundra had the arms and ammunition to break the blockade.

Pundra was her mother's home country, so surely Uncle would find a way to assist them in this time of need. But they couldn't even communicate with people outside of Videha. The kings who attempted to lift the bow of Mahadeva had failed drastically, and surely, since all of them had failed, the problem lay in the condition, in the prize itself. Surely it was a ruse, and Janaka had deliberately put forth this condition to insult them. How could they, the renowned kings of Aryavart, fail to even move such a divine bow? Surely it was a condition which could not be fulfilled by anyone.

Well, it was not like Sita wanted them to fulfill the condition. Not one of them was per her liking. Too old, too young, too arrogant, too meek, too-

Just not right.

She knew none of them were meant to lift the bow. Even Urmila thought so, she said that the stars had told her, Sita would not be married this year. And the year after. And hence, when the pride of a man is bruised, he acts out. In this case, there were multiple such men. Videha was facing the consequence of their failings, and she was the one being blamed.

Not by her own people, no. They loved her too much to blame her. They never would. But in the rest of Aryavart, surely it was she who was being blamed? Blamed for the misfortune she'd inadvertently brought upon her homeland, on her father, just by existing.

"Sita." Mandavi whispered, her face pressed against Sita's shoulder. "Can you stop crying? The sound is grating against my eardrums. You've been at it since the past three hours. Are you not tired?"

"Not yet. Let me cry some more." Sita sniffed out, and yet, wiped her cheeks and eyes. Surely she would feel better after crying. Letting out the emotions was good for inner peace, she'd read once.

"Well, you should know that Aunt is rather worried about you." Mandavi shifted in the bed, as she wiggled to make herself more comfortable.

"She is...?" Sita didn't wish to worry her mother. Mother already had so much to worry about...she didn't need one more reason. She always worried, about anything and everything. Sita did not wish her to worry more, that too on her account.

Mandavi did not talk further, proceeding to stare at the ceiling instead. Some moments passed, before she spoke again. "You've not gone to the treasury lately, have you?"

Sita shook her head in denial. She was good at arithmetic and finance, and liked to volunteer to help out in the treasury. She usually assisted in the recordkeeping. It was a task that she enjoyed to do.

"We are running out of rations. Uncle has suggested that we donate some to the townspeople." Mithila, the capital, was surrounded from all sides, cut off from the rest of Videha. Of course they would run low on rations. They did not produce enough to feed all of their people, and the season for paddy was about to start. It would take three months at least for them to grow rice again. And by then, all of their rations would be finished. Sita couldn't help but let out a curse at that.

When would their troubles end?

The very next day, Sita went out with her sisters to donate rations to the citizens of the city. People stood in queues, and were provided with rations, which included rice, oil, pulses and raw fish. Sita was keeping records of the amount of rice being provided to each person.

"I have a family of five." The person in front of her told. "We ran out of oil last week."

Two bags of rice would be enough for a family of five. The soldier near her handed them out to the villager, as Sita jotted down the amount. "For oil, please go to that queue."

Unfortunately, this meagre ration was all that they could provide to their people at the moment. The royal granary was running low on rations as well. They too, were sustaining on simple meals of fish and rice. They would run out of fish soon. Before leaving the palace, she heard her mother discuss about distributing the fruits growing on their trees as well. All of them were suffering. These rations, that they were distributing, were provided directly from the royal granary. Not just that, but the rajas and samantas living in the capital too, were distributing grain from their own granaries, as much as they could.

And yet, their problems remained unsolved.

They were doing all that they could. And yet...

After they were done with the donations, they returned back to the palace. Shrutakirti went straight to the baths, complaining that she reeked of fish. Sita decided to pay her parents a visit.

They were in her mother's chambers. The curtains, a lovely shade of yellow, were drawn shut. Janaka sat on the settee, head falling back, while Sunaina sat near him. If anyone else were to see her, they would assume that she was composed. But Sita was not anyone else. She knew how much anxious her mother was, seeing how she was busy picking at her cuticles, a habit which refused to leave her. She cleared out her throat, folding her hands in front of her politely.

Her parents looked up at her. A warm smile spread across Janaka's features, making him look younger than his years. "Ah, Sita. Come here, dear. Sit next to me." He patted the space next to him. Sita obeyed him, sitting between the two of them. "I heard that you and the girls distributed rations today?"

"Yes, Father. We had rations delivered to every house of the city. No one will run out of food for a few days, at least."

"Good, good." He stroked her head, gently, as if she were still the small girl who used to sit in his lap for hours. Sita liked it. "We must have rations distributed every week until this problem ends. No one should want for anything."

"And what happens when we run out of rations? When our granary becomes empty?" Sita retorted, sharply. "I've seen the records myself, Father. We barely have enough left. If only this barricade around Mithila was removed, we would be able to get rations from the rest of the kingdom!"

"My dear, it's not like we-"

"Forgive me, but you aren't doing anything, Father. Why can't we ask our allies for help? I'm sure Uncle would send the Pundra army for help. And Mother, wasn't the Queen of Banga your childhood friend?"

"She is my friend." Sunaina answered, smoothly. "But you know it dear, Banga and Pundra are not nations with great military prowess. Their strengths lie in trade."

Sita almost screeched out of irritation. Were they truly this helpless? Were all of them going to just starve to death, surviving on fish and rice till the end of their days? Or were they supposed to sit still, and wait for King Sudhanva from God knows which kingdom, to attack them?

"This is happening because of me. If only you had married me to just some random prince, none of this would befall upon us." Venom mixed into her words, as angry tears pooled into her eyes. Anger at being this helpless, at being unable to do anything, at being called adop-

"We only want your happiness. And none of these men deserve you, sweetling. If their fragile prides cannot handle being rejected by the bow, then it is not your fault." Mother's voice filled her ears, ever soothing.

"But it's unfair! Why can't we fight against them?!!!" She sobbed out, furiously blinking her eyes, as the tears threatened to cascade down her cheeks. She knew very well that she sounded like a petulant child, but Sita couldn't help it.

"Now, I want you to listen carefully." Janaka straightened up, gently tilting her face towards her. "Your uncle and I have thought of something. He will take whatever forces we have in the capital, and fight King Sudhanva, to break the blockade around Mithila."

"And what about the others....?" She couldn't help but ask.

"I will go and pray to the Gods to bestow help upon us. I believe that they will listen to our pleas. We will come out of this." Her father assured her.

"You will go as well...?" Sita repeated, her voice tiny and barely audible. "Don't go..."

"I must, my honeybee. And in the meanwhile you, and your mother have to rule this kingdom in my stead. You will do good, won't you?"

The tears welled up again. Sita couldn't help but nod, desperate to assure her father that yes, she would do good. She would uplift the duty he had placed on her shoulders. She had to. He gently pulled her in his arms, whispering soft assurances in her hair. Sunaina stroked her hair and back, as she cried.