Written by: Manal Rabiey
I was running through the oak trees like a stray gazelle, my eyes lined with love. Rama’s gaze followed me like a silent shadow. He watched my wildness as I kissed the flowers and danced—as if I were born from the rib of nature, wild in my beauty, pure in my soul.
My voice echoed the songs of the forest, resonated with the sound of beauty itself. Does beauty have a face? Yes… it is me—Sita. I was tender, radiant, the very image of grace. A blessed woman, I bloomed like a flower in the forest of life, and Rama’s heart danced in my presence. It beat without limits, as though the drums of the earth pounded with his love for me.
He embraced me with his eyes, watched me with every sense. His gaze never left me, as if his eyes were created only to see me. They knew no other task but to behold Sita.
When my eyes fell upon a golden deer in the woods, I pleaded with Rama to fetch it for me. He rushed off faster than my plea itself, flying like an arrow, his spear in hand, determined to bring me my wish.
He left me with Lakshmana for protection. But time slipped quickly, and Rama did not return. Separation gnawed at my heart, and fear consumed my thoughts. I begged Lakshmana to follow him, dropped to my knees and prayed to the gods to return Rama to me. No gift in this life could equal his presence.
Then, a wandering sage knocked at my hut’s door, asking for food to aid him in his journey. When his hand touched mine in false supplication, the world darkened around me. The scent of evil filled the air—it was Ravana, the deceiver.
I resisted him with all the strength I had. My fiery eyes were the barrier between us. I fought until my body wasted away, until bones pressed against my skin, waiting for Rama to save me.
And he came, like a dream. Riding on Hanuman’s back, he severed Ravana’s head in a single blow. I ran to him, wrapped my arms around him like a drowning woman clinging to the last straw of hope in a raging sea.
But his eyes did not meet me with love. They devoured me with doubt.
He carried me behind him, and silence filled the space between us—tainted by suspicion. The city lit up in celebration of my return, yet my heart was heavy with sorrow. Rama, who once adored me, now looked at me with uncertainty, as if I were tainted.
He threw a flame to the ground, and I had to step into the fire—to cleanse myself from a guilt I never bore. The fires of earth could not compare to the burning shame and grief within me.
I was the accused, forever. Demanded to prove my purity, to justify what I never did. I had never betrayed him—not even in thought. My soul never wavered from him.
When my feet touched the lotus flowers, nature itself testified to my innocence, and Rama’s heart was finally soothed. But I was no longer the same.
I am Sita.
And my heart…
was broken forever.
