Sumitra took her elder son aside one day, for she saw the glow of a fire in his eyes that tunneled into his heart. It was a fiery glow that frightened her. She was the wisest mother in the land, but for what would all this knowledge be than to give to her son, piece by piece?

To him, she imparted this wisdom: 

"Listen to me closely, my son, else I will suffer from remorse my whole life at what you will become."

"Revenge is like a fire. We start it in our hearts, saying that we'll douse it when our grudge is satisfied. We let it burn for years, we let it overtake us. We follow our vengeful hearts rather than our thoughtful brains. It burns and it burns, it destroys everything in its path, and we let it. We don't care for the principles we've let burn to the ground, the pillars of truth we've set ablaze. Everything is rubble in front of your revenge." 

"And then, once you've reached our goal, you find that the inferno has grown too large to stop with the small pot of water you've brought along with you. You find that it has become something bigger than you and your grudge. It has become a force that can do anything. It has become hate."

"You don't even remember the reason your fire was given a place to grow. If you do, you try to justify the destruction with it. Still, the flames burn, fuelled by your self-validation. Vengeance consumes your enemies, yes, but just like a fire, it can consume the kindler who gave it brush."

"Don't hold a grudge, my son, for it is the fuel for adharma."

Said the son of Sumitra, "We honor those who self-sacrifice, those who are consumed by a fire started by their own hands. To those who die courageously in battle, we do not say that they were consumed by the flames of their vengeance, but that they were liberated by the passion of their principles."

"If I were to be devoured by any power in this world, I would rather have it been from a spark that I set. I would rather be consumed by a blaze of vengeance than from the guilt that would blossom otherwise. Don't you see? I will be engulfed anyways. I am the son of a soldier who was the son of a soldier. Why not meet my fate by the flames of vengeance than the thorns of shame?"

"You do not fear being the puppet of evil?" asked she. 

"Why should I, when I have the epitome of dharma as my brother?" said he. 

"And you don't worry that you'll ever stray from his wisdom?" she wondered, smile growing larger every second. 

"How could I, when he is the reason for my existence and my vengeance, all the same?" he replied, face staying as still as stone. 

"And could you ever betray his word because of the grudge you hold in his name?" Sumitra smiled, already knowing his answer. 

"How could I, when he is my eternal truth?" said Sumitra's son. 

A/N: Hi! Some more thought-provoking Lakshman content from me today. It's interesting, the amount of times Lakshman almost was lead by anger and revenge, only for him to remember Ram. I wish there was a word for what Ram was to Lakshman other than just brother.  I would have written 'my everything', but I felt that was too cryptic for a chapter that was already pretty mind-boggling. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed Sumitra and Lakshman trying to our-philosophize each other, in today's edition of Fem-Plato and her angry son.