While darkness crept toward them, the village knew nothing.
They were dancing.
They were praying.
The temple glowed in the morning sun, echoing with mantras and the rhythm of dhols. Every hand folded before the goddess with just one wish—
"Give us the strength to free our motherland from these chains."
Among them, Bheem, unable to contain his joy, stood up and shouted:
"Ram bhaiyya! This is the month of blessings. I want to see your marriage with Sita amma… from my hands! That will be my real victory."
Sita looked down shyly, her face lighting up with silent joy.
But Ram turned to Bheem and said, softly:
"Bheem… not until we drive out the British."
Sita's smile faded. But she masked it strong, as always.
Bheem turned to her.
"At least you convince him, Sita amma?"
She replied gently:
"No Bheem… let your brother choose. Let his dream come first. Our marriage can wait."
A hush fell.
Ram's uncle stepped forward.
"Ram, your goal is noble. But a girl waits with her heart. For Sita, you are everything. Dharma isn't just about war… it's also about love."
Ram looked at Sita.
At her eyes which had waited too long.
He turned to Bheem.
"Arrange it, Bheem. The marriage will happen."
Bheem burst with joy, dancing like a child.
Preparations began. Jenny helped with flowers, lights, decorations. Bheem and Jenny's little side-glances didn't go unnoticed.
Ram smiled, teasing:
"Looks like one more wedding will follow mine, eh Bheem?"
Bheem laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
That night, beneath the stars, as the village slept in peace…
The British Major was sharpening his sword.
"We end this tomorrow."
Morning came like a dream.
The village was bright with marigolds and hope.
Bheem brought Ram to the mandap, beaming.
Jenny led Sita, radiant in red.
The priest began chanting.The fire crackled.
Ram and Sita exchanged garlands eyes locked, hearts steady.
Then
BANG!
A gunshot.
Screams echoed.Flowers fell.Blood stained the earth.
British soldiers stormed the village, rifles blazing.
Men and women ran for cover. Some rushed to grab weapons.
Ram turned to Sita.
"Hide, now!"
He grabbed his rifle. Bheem joined him.Both brothers — lions once again.
They fought with everything they had bullets, swords, fire, fists.
Villagers too rose.
Old men, young boys, mothers everyone defended their home.
The battle raged.
Finally, silence.
Ram and Bheem stood tall, breathing heavy.
They turned back… to horror.
British rifles pointed at the villagers.
Even Sita was among them gun to her head.
The British Major stepped forward.
"Drop your weapons… or they die."
Ram hesitated. Bheem trembled.
Then, one shot fired.
A villager fell, lifeless.
Ram and Bheem dropped their rifles.
Hands raised.
The Major smiled.
As soldiers stepped forward to arrest them—
Ram grabbed one rifle. Bheem punched another.
Chaos again.
A sudden scream.
"Aahhhh—!"
Ram turned.
Sita.
Her throat… slit.
She collapsed.
Ram screamed.
"Sitaaaaaaa!"
He ran — but a bullet pierced his back.
He fell beside her.
Blood spilled between them.
Their hands touched, one last time.
He whispered her name.
Their eyes closed together.
Forever.
Bheem stood frozen.
His world gone in a second.
He howled like a lion in pain and ripped through the soldiers, rage burning.
Then…
THUD.
A blow to the back of his head.
The Major stood tall.Grinning.
"And now… it ends."
Bheem fell.
Three heroes.
Three hearts.
One dream.
All… extinguished.
But legends?
Legends don't die.
They are reborn.