Kritartha's father brought him to the magnificent capital city of Ayodhya. The streets were overflowing with people from every corner of the kingdom. Men, women, elders, and children had all gathered outside the royal palace, eagerly waiting for a glimpse of the newborn princes.
After a few moments, the grand balcony doors opened.
King Dasharatha stepped onto the balcony along with his three queens, each lovingly carrying one of the four princes.
The crowd instantly fell silent.
With a proud smile, King Dasharatha gently lifted Prince Sri Rama into his arms and showed him to his people. His Queen's lifted the Prince's Lakshmana, Baratha and Shatrugna
The moment everyone laid their eyes on the princes, they stood frozen in awe.
Their divine beauty was beyond words. Especially Prince Sri ram, His dark complexion shone like the deep evening sky, while his innocent smile filled every heart with an indescribable peace.
Many people couldn't hold back their tears. They didn't even know why they were crying, yet their eyes kept overflowing with devotion, as if their tears themselves wished to wash the feet of the divine child.
Some whispered among themselves,
"These princes are no ordinary children..."
"There is a divine light surrounding them."
Kritartha's father was completely lost in that heavenly sight.
Meanwhile, little Kritartha stood beside him, trying his best to look through the sea of people. Being only five years old, he couldn't see anything beyond the crowd.
He tugged gently at his father's clothes.
Kritartha: "Father... I want to see them too. Lift me up."
But his father remained lost in the divine trance, unable to hear his little son's voice.
Kritartha pulled his shirt again.
Kritartha: "Appa... I want to see Prince Rama too."
His father suddenly came back to his senses.
Father: "Of course, Kritu... You must see them."
He quickly lifted Kritartha into his arms.
But just as Kritartha finally looked toward the balcony...
King Dasharatha and the royal family had already turned around and gone back inside the palace.
The balcony was empty.
Kritartha's cheerful face slowly faded with disappointment.
He had missed the chance...
Especially to see Prince Rama.
As the crowd slowly dispersed, everyone walked away with joyful smiles. Some were still overwhelmed by the divine sight they had witnessed, unable to stop talking about the princes.
Kritartha lowered his head sadly.
Kritartha: "I didn't get the chance to see them..."
His father gently patted his head.
Father: "Don't worry, Kritu. We'll come again another day to see all four princes. But for now, we should return home before it gets dark."
As they began walking back, Kritartha looked up curiously.
Kritartha: "Why do you always want to go home before it's dark, Appa?"
His father smiled faintly.
Father: "Because our village is close to the forest. At night, wild animals begin to roam... and the Rakshasas come out as well."
Kritartha's eyes widened.
Kritartha: "What is a Rakshasa, Appa?"
His father's expression turned serious.
Father: "They are far more dangerous than wild animals. They are the most fearsome beings in this world. If one catches you... it won't let you escape alive."
Kritartha immediately held his father's hand tightly.
Kritartha: "Oh... I'm scared, Appa."
His father smiled reassuringly.
Father: "Don't worry, Kritu. They've never come near our village. But if you ever sense a Rakshasa near to you, close your eyes and run as fast as you can."
He then added firmly,
Father: "And remember one thing... never cross the forest boundary into the deep woods. Promise me."
Kritartha nodded obediently.
Kritartha: "I promise, Appa. I'll never go into the forest alone... and I'll never cross our village border."
His father smiled proudly.
Father: "That's my good boy."
Even as they walked back toward their village, Kritartha couldn't stop thinking about the prince he had failed to see.
Deep inside his little heart, he made a silent promise.
"One day... I will meet Prince Rama with my own eyes."
FIFTEEN YEARS LATER...
The peaceful village had become livelier over the years. The morning market was filled with cheerful voices as villagers exchanged goods through the barter system.
A young girl, dressed in a simple handwoven sari, walked gracefully through the marketplace with a woven bamboo basket rested on her arm, filled with colorful flowers she had freshly gathered from the forest.
Her name was Kalindi.
She stopped in front of a fruit seller and smiled politely.
Kalindi: "How many apples can I get for these beautiful flowers? I would like that muskmelon too."
The fruit seller examined the flowers carefully before smiling.
Seller: "These flowers are truly beautiful... but will they bring me enough profit?"
Kalindi smiled confidently.
Kalindi: "Of course they will. Take them to the capital, and every young woman will want to decorate her hair with these flowers."
The seller chuckled.
Just then...
Four rough-looking men approached her.
They slowly surrounded Kalindi, leaving her no room to walk away.
One of them deliberately stepped closer, brushing against her shoulder.
Kalindi immediately moved back with discomfort.
The man smirked.
Man: "Those flowers look beautiful..."
His eyes wandered over her.
"...But I'd rather take everything... including you."
Kalindi tried to move away, but another man blocked her path.
She looked at him fearlessly.
Kalindi: "Move."
The man laughed.
Man: "Or else...?"
Without another word, Kalindi called out loudly,
"Kritarthaaa!"
The men laughed.
But their laughter lasted only a second.
THUD!
Two of the men suddenly crashed onto the ground.
Before the remaining one could even react—
BAM!
A powerful punch landed across his face, sending him stumbling backwards.
Standing before Kalindi was a young man with determined eyes.
Kritartha.
He stood between Kalindi and the men.
Kritartha: "If anyone dares to make my girl feel uncomfortable..."
He clenched his fist.
"...they'll pay the price for it."
The men charged at him together.
One of them grabbed a knife from a nearby stall and lunged forward.
Kritartha swiftly dodged the attack, but the blade left a small cut on his forearm.
Ignoring the pain, he countered with a powerful kick that knocked the attacker to the ground.
Within moments...
All four men lay defeated.
Kritartha immediately turned toward Kalindi.
Kritartha: "Kalindi... hold my hand. We need to leave before they wake up."
She nodded.
He grabbed her hand, and the two ran through the busy streets until they finally stopped near the edge of the village.
Breathing heavily, Kalindi gently pulled her hand away.
Kritartha looked at her awkwardly.
Kritartha: "Sorry... did I hold your hand too tightly?"
Instead of answering, Kalindi noticed the blood trickling from his arm.
Her expression immediately changed.
Kalindi: "Your hand..."
"What if your Appa sees this? He'll definitely scold you."
Kritartha smiled carelessly.
Kritartha: "It's just a scratch."
He looked at her with relief.
"You're safe. That's all that matters."
Kalindi smiled softly before looking down at the basket.
Kalindi: "I'm alright... but I couldn't exchange the flowers you gathered for me."
Without saying a word, Kritartha opened his cloth bag.
He took out several fresh apples.
Kritartha: "Here, For you and your Mom."
He placed them into her basket.
Then he carefully took out a ripe muskmelon.
Holding it out with a grin, he said,
Kritartha: "And this one... is especially for you."
Kalindi blinked in surprise.
Kalindi: "Where did you get all of these?"
"Don't you need fruits for yourself and your father?"
Kritartha scratched the back of his head.
Kritartha: "I exchanged the medicinal herbs I collected this morning. People always give more in return for those."
Kalindi looked at him with concern.
Kalindi: "Those herbs are difficult to collect in forest."
"No one from our village dares to collect them."
"You always risk your life for them..."
"And now you're giving everything to me?"
Kritartha smiled gently.
Kritartha: "I already exchanged them."
"So they're yours now."
"Take them."
Kalindi looked at him silently before smiling with gratitude.
By evening, Kritartha returned home.
His father was already waiting outside.
Kritartha handed him the fruits and vegetables.
His father frowned.
Father: "Why are these fewer than usual?"
"You exchanged the medicinal herbs I asked you to collect... didn't you?"
Kritartha nodded calmly.
Kritartha: "I gave some to Kalindi... and her mother."
His father sighed deeply.
Father: "Again... Kalindi."
"How many times have I told you not to get so attached to that girl?"
Kritartha remained silent.
Then his father noticed the fresh wound on his arm.
His expression immediately changed.
Father: "What happened to your hand?"
"...Don't tell me this is because of Kalindi again."
Kritartha answered honestly.
Kritartha: "I fought four men who were troubling her."
His father's patience finally broke.
Kritartha's Father: "Kalindi... Kalindi... Kalindi... Stop chanting her name all the time."
Kritartha remained silent.
His father took a deep breath before continuing.
Kritartha's Father: "Listen carefully, Kritu. She lost her father at a young age. She and her mother have struggled every single day just to survive. I truly feel sorry for them.
"But because of that, you've made it your life's mission to help her. You collect beautiful flowers for her, you give away your food, you risk your own life for her... and today you even fought four men."
His voice grew firmer.
Kritartha's Father: "Tell me... what has she ever done for you?"
Kritartha opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Father: "You're always the one sacrificing. You're always the one protecting her. You're always the one giving."
He sighed.
"Can't you see it? She's Using you
After a brief pause, he added,
Kritartha's Father: "She's getting used to your kindness. And one day, when she no longer needs you... I'm afraid you'll be the one left with a broken heart."
Kritartha looked at his father calmly and smiled.
Kritartha: "Don't say that, Appa."
"I know Kalindi."
"I know what's in her heart."
"We'll get married one day."
"And she'll make delicious food for us... just like Amma used to."
His father looked away, unable to argue with his son's innocent faith.
He looked at his son with gentle sadness.
Father: "Look at yourself."
"You always wear your best clothes bought from capital."
"You work harder than everyone else."
"You risk your life collecting some rare beautiful flowers..."
"All because you want to impress her."
He paused.
"...Why, Kritu?"
Kritartha looked toward the night sky.
His voice became quiet.
Kritartha: "I never knew a mother's love."
"I don't even remember Amma's face."
"I just..."
He smiled weakly.
"...want to know what it feels like to be loved that deeply."
His father's anger vanished instantly.
He gently placed a hand on Kritartha's shoulder.
Kritartha's Father: "I don't want to hurt your feelings, my son."
"You'll understand everything when the right time comes."
That night...
Kritartha peacefully fell asleep.
Early the next morning...
Loud knocking echoed outside their house.
"Kritartha!"
"Wake up!"
His father opened the door to find several of Kritartha's friends standing outside, excited.
Kritartha's Father: "What happened? Why are all of you here so early?"
One of the boys replied eagerly,
Friend: "News has come from Ayodhya!"
"Sage Vishwamitra has requested King Dasharatha to send Prince Rama and Prince Lakshmana with him to protect his sacred yagnas from the Rakshasas."
"If we leave now, we'll reach Ayodhya before afternoon!"
Another friend grinned excitedly.
Friend 2: "I only saw Prince Rama when I was a little child."
"Now we'll finally get to see the strongest and bravest prince Ever!"
He looked at Kritartha.
Friend 2: "Are you coming or not?"
Kritartha's father smiled.
Father: "I wish I could come with you boys..."
"But these old legs won't carry me that far anymore."
Kritartha's eyes sparkled.
Kritartha: "Appa... please let me go."
"I missed seeing Prince Rama when I was a child."
"I want to see him with my own eyes this time."
His father smiled warmly.
Father: "Go."
"But remember our rule."
Kritartha nodded immediately.
Kritartha: "Of course, Appa."
"I'll return before sunset."
With excitement filling their hearts...
The boys hurried toward the glorious city of Ayodhya
