Our car passed by a hotel on a highway. “Ravana Spice garden” my father read out loud in amusement from the passenger seat ahead. this piqued our interest behind.
ravana. sita. rama. lakshmana.
A thoughtful silence passed for a minute. then it seemed that my father’s attention had already been stolen by the Google Maps our driver was using. Meanwhile my mother asked, “In what language would Raavan have asked Sita to marry him?
The local language, maybe, is what we thought.
Our destination was 20 minutes away. we were all getting restless. Everyone shifted their gaze from their respective sides to the road ahead. Someone mentioned how tiring climbing up a hill is going to be. A couple of minutes of chatter later, my little sister asked out of the blue, “Arey, but i don’t even remember why Raavan even came to kidnap Sita.”
I scoffed at her ignorance, and almost opened my mouth to say, “He came to kidnap Sita because of brutal manner in which his sister was treated. He came to avenge his sister. It seems that he was a brilliant king, a just man and was very learned. It seems he was as respectful as he was respected. He never forced to marry Sita. Always only asked her. It could be that he wasn’t as bad as he is portrayed to be,” but by then, my mother had already brought up pimples and other topics on skin and my words died on my lips.
The conversation, it seemed, was going faster than our car.
some fuel to your fire 