Ramayana
All my life, I strived to touch the deepest, darkest secrets of the Earth and its history; this was my only ambition, and one that I pursued until the very end. I devoted the best part of my mortal existence to understanding the world’s greatest mysteries, until the night that I became one.

I thought I had been a man obsessed, but I knew nothing of obsession. Not until I came to know her. She was more beautiful to me than anyone I had known, more enthralling than any legend I had explored, more secretive than any spirit I had unearthed. In the end, the greatest mystery became, “How can I love you as much as I do?”

I was well into my immortal years, when by chance we happened to find each other. She had that energy about her; the sort of electricity that seems to emanate from a different life source altogether. When she was content, I was content. When she was happy, so was I. But when she smiled for me, masking the pain of her broken heart, I couldn’t smile back. I kissed her. I told her I loved her. I promised her I would show her the path to fulfilment, and walk it with her, hand in hand.

Her eyes shimmered and her smile became playful. We both knew who was leading who.

For reasons I will never understand, arrows seemed to fly at her from all directions. Some of them were fired by spite, some by jealousy, and though she knew she was the victim of injustice, she never really learned to protect herself from them. I tried, but how could I shelter her when it was her openness and independence that made her the woman I adored? It was not what she wanted. It was testimony to her strength of character that she never made any apologies for who she was and always stood her ground.

The time came when I lost count of her tears, and couldn’t bear to watch them fall any longer. I made up my mind. My refuge would be her refuge; it was time to take her home.

Love is ignorant and hopeful and blind. I never imagined that the final, fatal arrow would be mine.