Fourteen Years Apart: An Interview with Lakshmana and Urmila

I arrived in Treta Yuga with only two acorns, a notebook, and the kind of audacity that would get me unceremoniously exiled for 28 years.

It was a funny sight. A little squirrel pushing his glasses up his nose and staring defiantly at the grandeur before him.

It was dusk when I stood in front of the royal palace of Ayodhya. I consulted my squirrel-manuscript again and took a detour toward my destination.

I was expecting generals, ministers, priests, musicians, dancers, and guards. After all, this was the residence of a legendary warrior, a terrifying archer, and an extremely devoted prince I was seeking.

The one who had slain Maghnad.

On this day, however, he stood beside a curtain in the entrance chamber of his palace.

“Pull,” a voice called. It was a woman’s voice.

The son of Dasharatha did as instructed. A moment later, the curtain stood majestically. He was about to go inside when he saw the squirrel on the steps.

Me

I stared back at him.

Neither of us moved.

One of us was a prince of Ayodhya.

The other was a squirrel.

To this day, I remain convinced he was the more surprised of the two.

Up close, the son of Sumitra was a tall man with broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and sturdy arms.

Prince Lakshmana looked over my head and pointed with his chin.

“The royal chambers are ahead. To the left of that mango orchard. Ask for the royal court.”

“No,” I said. “I have come here to meet you.”

He blinked.

“Okay, come in.”

He turned and called, “Urmila! We have a guest!”

I followed the legendary prince inside. It wasn’t even the main chamber of their palace. It was a welcoming chamber for guests.

There was a tall, slender princess sitting on a diwaan. She looked up as her husband sat beside her.

Various servants hurried to make space for me.

Refreshments were offered. I asked for water and privacy to talk to the royal couple.

The servants stood at a respectful distance, out of hearing distance.

“So,” Prince Lakshmana said. “What is it that you’d like to discuss with me? I see that you are a reporter.”

I looked down at the notebook in my fur.

“People know you,” I said. “As a loyal brother. A formidable warrior.”

“That is correct.”

I turned to Princess Urmila.

“And people know you." I checked my notes. “Actually, they don’t.”

Silence.

“Accurate,” Princess Urmila said.

“Were you annoyed with him?” I asked. “With his choices?”

Princess Urmila glanced at Prince Lakshmana. Look back at me.

“I was.”

“Good, otherwise I’d have said you’re lying to a poor little squirrel.”

Princess Urmila chuckled.

“What did you do when you were furious?” I asked.

“You can keep getting infuriated by everything,” she said. “Or you can save your energy for what truly deserves that response.”

“That’s not an answer,” I said.

“Maybe it’s the only one I’ll give.”

“Still not the same,” I said stubbornly.

Princess Urmila sighed. She looked at Prince Lakshmana. Then, at me.

“I understood that my Dharma was to my husband the way his Dharma was to his brother.”

“But shouldn’t his Dharma be with you?”

“You speak as though I wanted to leave,” Prince Lakshmana said.

Not in an incensed manner.

As calm as if Lord Shri Rama were speaking.

“Didn’t you?” I asked.

“No.”

“Then, why did you?”

“Because my priorities were clear and I had already communicated with Urmila.”

“Did you agree?” I asked Princess Urmila.

“At first, no,” Princess Urmila said. “However, my love doesn’t restrict him from performing his duties.”

“That sounds extremely mature,” I said.

“It is.”

“I don't like it,” I declared.

Princess Urmila laughed.

Prince Lakshmana did not.

“Why not?” Princess Urmila asked.

“Because it feels unfair.”

“To whom?”

“To you.”

Silence settled over the chamber.

“You spent fourteen years in Ayodhya,” I continued. “History remembers the prince who left. It rarely remembers the princess who remained.”

Princess Urmila studied me for several moments.

“And yet here you are asking about me.”

“Because somebody has to.”

“Then ask properly.”

I straightened my notebook.

“Very well. Were you lonely?”

“… yes,” Princess Urmila admitted.

“That’s honest,” I noted.

“You are remarkably pleased whenever someone admits suffering.”

“I'm a reporter. It keeps the interview moving.”

“You're a menace.”

“I've been called worse,” I said, turning a page in my notebook. “Prince Lakshmana, would you repeat the choices you made?”

The room became very quiet.

“You ask difficult questions for such a small creature,” Prince Lakshmana said.

“Occupational hazard.”

Prince Lakshmana looked toward the window.

Beyond it, Ayodhya stretched beneath the evening sky.

“Yes,” he said.

“That was quick.”

“Because I have thought about it before.”

“You would leave again?”

“I would.”

“What about you, Princess Urmila?”

Princess Urmila tilted her head slightly.

“Would you forgive him again?” I asked.

“You make it sound like forgiveness is a one-time thing,” she said. “It’s not a single act.”

“Then?”

“It’s something you do repeatedly.”

I opened my mouth to say something. Nothing came out.

Then, I cleared my throat and spoke in a small voice.

“So, what’s your secret?”

“Trust.” Both Prince Lakshmana and Princess Urmila spoke at the same time.

They exchanged a glance.

I watched as the prince took the princess’ hand in his tentatively. The princess smiled back, edging closer to the prince.

I had come hoping to ask more questions. However, I changed my mind.

“Any advice for future people?” I asked.

They looked at me, hands clasped tightly.

“Communicate,” Prince Lakshmana said.

“Trust without betrayal,” Princess Urmila finished.

I made a note of it.

“People remember great kings, groundbreaking victories, and legendary warriors,” I said. “They forget the ones who stood behind those legends. Whose sacrifices were forgotten.”

I looked at the princess.

“You are one such legend. You were separated for 14 years. Not because of an Asura. But because of duty. Because of a word given long ago.”

"There are other forgotten legends,” Princess Urmila said. “My sisters, Mandavi and Shrutakirthi.”

“I have heard.”

I stood up to leave.

“Lastly,” Princess Urmila said, her head slightly tilted. “Who are you?”

“You are no ordinary squirrel,” Prince Lakshmana said.

“I come from a distant Yuga in the future,” I said. “I am Nagendra. People call me ‘Naganna-the-squirrel’ across Yugas.”

The princess chuckled.

Prince Lakshmana turned and looked at her for a moment.

That was the same look I had once seen on Lord Shri Rama’s face when he saw Goddess Sita approach him after the battle. A look of awe, wonder, guilt, pain, and regret.

I stood up from the diwan and waited patiently.

“Leaving already?” Princess Urmila asked.

“Regretfully, yes,” I said.

“Won’t you meet my brother?” Prince Lakshmana asked.

“Another time,” I said.

“Where are you going now?”

“Forward.”

“Forward?”

“To another story.”

Princess Urmila smiled.

“And what will that story be about?”

I paused.

“I don't know yet.”

Which, in hindsight, was completely untrue.

Somewhere in Kali Yuga, two late bloomers were already walking toward each other.

Nagendra, alias Naganna the squirrel, is a recurring character from Echoes of a Late Bloom, where he interviews gods, kings, queens, warriors, sages, and other innocent bystanders across multiple Yugas. 🐿️📚

What were the 14 years like for Urmila?