Let Sita Be
by Shweta Mani
Mandodari picked up her nerve to cross a line she had never crossed before.
To confront, to check her husband, Ravan.
Ravan, serial philanderer, and now, a phone stalker.
Sita, the object of his gaze, the subject of his chase, her, Mandodari’s daughter.
Her reckless blunder, her hushed secret, her hidden wound.
“Let Sita be…”, she began, tentatively.
He, nursing a drink, looked up, disbelieving.
“What…?” He heard wrong, he was sure.
“Let Sita Be…”, she felt her voice steady, clear, loud.
She was indeed breaching their unspoken pact. His face became inscrutable.
“LET SITA BE..”, she continued firmly, in control. ‘Sita is my child, my daughter.’
Ravana was taken aback, shocked. Anger rising in his throat.
“How dare you ? “He thundered.
He was a Man. He was allowed different rules.
“How dare me?” Mandodari was fearless now. “HOW DARE YOU, Ravan?”
Unsaid words saying everything.
Pent up humiliation, anger bursting forth.
How dare he trample her womanly pride, again and again ?
“Leave my daughter alone, Ravan, or you will pay.” Mandodari warned and walked away.
Her punch had landed perfectly, she knew.
She had saved Sita, she was sure.
And she had maimed Ravan, where it hurt.
His fragile masculinity.
Pic credit: Mandodaree Repressing the Wrath Of Ravana, artist B.P. Banerjee | 1900’s
The story of Mandodaree and why some believe that Sita was her daughter.
Don’t miss: The Killing of Ravana by Devakee