Mythology, Fiction, Fantasy
4 min
Scars of Rejection
Kavya Kumar
All of India was alive tonight. Rows of flickering diyas, small clay lamps, cast a golden glow on the bustling country, and shops and homes adorned themselves with cascades of vibrant light.
It was Diwali. And everyone was enjoying it but me.
I sulked as I filed my ruby-red nails. It wasn't fair! I had suffered long enough for my Rakshasa brother's foolish mistakes.
"Surpanakha," Vibhishana called, "The time has come for the sacrifice."
"That's not my name," I replied as I departed my exile and walked towards Vibhishana's court.
Wordlessly, I performed the familiar ritual.
I slid the knife across my palm and winced as a bead of crimson welled up, tracing a path down my wrist. With trembling fingers, I smeared the blood on the rough earth and clasped my hands together in prayer.
Please, Lord Rama, I prayed, staring hard at his idol, Free me from this exile.
-- 3,000 years ago --
"Meenakshi, your brother wants you in his chambers immediately," Sitara, my chokri, informed me.
"Coming!" I called, my heart racing. Sitara told me earlier that my secret marriage with the Danava prince Vidyutjihva had been leaked. The Danavas were the mortal enemies of the Rakshasas, and if Ravana had discovered the alliance, I'd be in big trouble.
I rushed to my brother's chamber and greeted him respectfully, "Namaste, Ravana."
"Namaste. I have killed your husband," he told me unrepentantly, "I'm disappointed."
"Ravana!" I wailed, sobbing at his feet, "Ravana, no! How could you do this?"
My insensitive brother's complexion softened as he spoke, "Look, we are Rakshasas -- strong, powerful, and alluring demons. Find suitors who are actually worthy of you."
Wiping away my tears, I fled into the forest and sat by a banyan tree, relaxing my back against it. My brother was so selfish! He would never understand how love felt, and how much it hurt for it to be...gone.
Thunk! An arrow whooshed past me and landed on a red circle on the banyan trunk.
"Sorry, I think I almost hit you!" exclaimed a handsome young man with a chiseled jawline and broad shoulders. His dark complexion complemented his piercing copper eyes and charming smile.
He offered his hand to me and helped me up, laughing, "I'm Rama."
"I'm Meenakshi," I replied. "It means--"
"--Fish-eyed girl," he finished. His eyes were fixated on me.
Was this love? As he stepped away from me, I blurted, "Wait! I...are you interested in a suitor?"
I cringed. That came out wrong.
His face clouded over, realization hitting him. "You're a Rakshasi, aren't you? No, those aren't my intentions...I...I have a wife, my Sita."
He slowly backed away as he told me, "I do have a brother, though. His name is Lakshmana, and he's extremely handsome and heroic! You can take him as your suitor."
As he hurried away, I took a seat, still bright red from the encounter.
I scanned the clearing for this man's brother. And there he was. Perhaps even more beautiful than Rama, Lakshmana stood with a machete in one hand, leaning on a tree and whistling.
I shyly walked up to him and spoke, "Hello. I'm Meenakshi."
Without even glancing up, he nonchalantly replied, "My brother told me who you are. You're the Rakshasi girl."
"Yes, that's me," I told him. "Are you interested in a..."
"A suitor? No," Lakshmana replied. "And from a...creature like you, of course not! Never in a million years!"
"What I am doesn't affect who I could be -- Augh!"
My hands flew up to my nose...or what used to be my nose. Lakshmana had cut it off! Red streaked my hands as tears fell from my face.
"To think that a monster like you would think that you could be with me!" Lakshmana laughed.
Oh no. It was happening. I was shifting into my demon form. My canines began to extend as my nails grew crooked and curved.
"I am not a monster!" I screeched. "You will regret this!"
"I'm sure I will," he chuckled. "You know, the name Meenakshi doesn't suit you. With the creepy nails and everything, I think I should call you Surpanakha."
My eyes widened. Surpanakha meant ‘she whose fingernails are like winnowing fans.'
I wouldn't let myself be remembered as that.
Sobbing, I fled the clearing and sprinted as fast as I could to Ravana's chambers. I flung his doors open and ran to him.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. "Did something happen?"
I continued to cry as I recollected today's events.
"How dare they treat you that way? They have no right..." Ravana began to speak.
Suddenly, he stopped talking and broke into a grin.
"Meenakshi," he said. "You told me that there was this woman named Sita. She sounds precious to Rama. I could hurt her."
I looked up in disbelief.
"You'd do that for me?"
"Always," he replied sincerely. "I'll go to avenge you and I'll return tomorrow."
Ravana retrieved his scythe and opened the door.
"Take care, Meenakshi."
Clang! The door slammed behind him.
-- 2 months later --
Ravana still wasn't back, and I was anxious. I had waited day after day, but he hadn't come yet.
Boom!
The door was knocked down, and in came one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen.
One of the men I thought I'd never see again.
Rama.
"Pardon me, Surpanakha," he said.
"It's Meenakshi!" I retorted. "And why are you here?!"
"I have come to deliver the news," he responded.
"What news?" I asked. "And where is my brother?"
"That's why I'm here."
"Your brother had other intentions for kidnapping my Sita than purely for revenge. He wanted to marry her, so I launched a war to get her back. Lakshmana and I battled his warriors, and we defeated him."
"No! How could you...?!"
"You're the reason the war came to be. You deserve a fate worse than death -- eternal exile."
"No!"
He sneered as he turned away from me.
"Goodbye, Surpanakha."
And then it was dark.
This was an entry for a writing contest held in conjunction with Center for Fiction and The Decameron Project
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