Storytelling Week Two: Ends of the Earth

Étretat: Sunset, by Claude Monet

The first thing anyone has to understand about Rama? He's in love with his lady. Sita's a work of art, with eyes like dusk and wild hair the color of the night sky. She's been with him long as anyone can remember, if anyone remembers, and if there ever was a couple in love, they were it. The second thing? He's never stayed in the same place long. It's been said he had a home, once; a home in a breathtaking place, skies clear and blue like the good lord hadn't ever heard of a cloud to put there, waters crystal clear to match the sky, mountains tall and strong and proud--and weathered. It was a place where everyone knew there was history in every flurry of dust kicked up by their feet, knew the land would outlast them. Time passed slower there. So it's said, at least.

There wasn't ever a name to accompany the place. Just descriptions of beauty, simplicity, things anybody would describe when they thought about where they'd like to end up some day. Rama was lucky enough to start there. Broken homes don't account for perfection in setting, though, and sooner than later Rama got the boot from his stepmother. His father didn't have much to do with it; seeing as he wasn't around enough to help make a decision. It wasn't his fault, truly. Living a dream isn't cheap, never was. By the time he got home after working a couple, three, jobs, he barely had the energy to muster getting along with his second wife, much less fighting with her. 

Rama's a legend to many. Most of us haven't ever laid eyes on the boy (a man now, accounting for time), and those who have can only describe him as handsome, wonderful, kind, fair--and the same is always said of Sita. He comes quietly through towns, does a few odd jobs, and goes on his way. He's one of the last few gentlemen there are, and a jack of all trades too. There's a few who compare him to Robin Hood, preferring to live in the forest with his Maid Marion. The comparison isn't so far fetched, though he's a better hunter than Robin Hood could have ever hoped to be. Seems like every town who's been blessed by his presence is a little better off. If there's a bad apple in the ruling party, they're gone in a fortnight. An abusive family gets run out of town. When we get news like this, his name is never said... But we all know.

I remember when he came to our town. I was already an old man then, and had trouble sleeping nights. Up late one clear evening, I glanced outside and saw him. Tall, strong, proud... Weathered. He swept in on a whisper, left quieter than the rustle of leaves in the summer wind. His company followed, just two others, his lady and another young man. His brother? They listened to the cries of the town, heard our hurts, listened to how we were besieged constantly by a pack of thieves, scoundrels, who had lead in their hearts and steel in their hands. It didn't take so much as a week before an incident became altogether unheard of.

Thing is, there's a storm brewing. Rumors say the band of thieves aren't gone, just left for reinforcements. It's been years since anyone's seen Rama, though there are sightings of Sita. Nothing much, but here and there a child will tear out of the forest, yelling about strange men holding a woman captive. It's not long before the child will forget all about the men in favor of the woman's beauty. That's how we know it's Sita. That's how we know Rama's looking for her. 

We all worry for Rama. The people hear of his actions, his adventures, they know he's impossibly good at combat, strategy, persuasion, but is he good enough for those who stole Sita from under his nose?

I think so. 

I hope, someday, someday soon, that at the end of a long day, with his lady at his side, he'll get to go home.

Author's Note:

I'm really intrigued by the idea of pairing music and stories. This story in particular was inspired by a couple things, the first being a song by Lord Huron, from which the title is taken. I also really wanted to create a fuzzy picture of Rama, something that wasn't particularly attached to a time period or place. That's why I chose an impressionist painting for my image. Can you tell I like Monet? The story I worked from was more of the overarching story of the second reading diary. I thought it was important to try and evoke the good Rama's done so far, as well as Sita and Rama's passion for each other. His 'home' is Ayodhya, and I thought making him a Robin Hood-esque character would allow me to explore what Rama's interactions with others while in exile might be.

Narayan, R. K. The Ramayana. New Delhi: Vision, 1987. Print.