Rama Comes Home to Ayodhya

For fourteen long years, Prince Rama lived far away in the forest. Back in the city of Ayodhya, his brother Bharata kept his promise. He placed Rama's wooden sandals on the throne and waited. "The kingdom is only looked after," Bharata said gently, "until my brother comes home."

At last the long years were over. Rama, Sita and Lakshmana turned toward home. They walked through green forests and over quiet hills. Every step brought them a little closer, and every step made their hearts a little lighter.

Hanuman flew ahead as fast as the wind. He landed on the palace steps, smiling from ear to ear. "Rama is coming home!" he called. "He will be here tonight!" The happy news ran down every street, from house to house, faster than a running child.

But the night would be dark, with no moon at all. "How will Rama find his way?" asked a little girl. Her grandmother smiled and handed her a small clay lamp. "We will light the way for him," she said. So the children filled lamps with oil. The grandparents twisted the cotton wicks. And one by one, they lit them.

Lamps glowed on every doorstep. Lamps glowed on every rooftop and along the river steps. Soon the whole city of Ayodhya shone like the stars had come down to sit beside the people. The darkest night of the year became the brightest.

And there, through the glowing gate, came Rama, Sita and Lakshmana. Flower petals fell like rain. Bharata ran to hug his brother. "You lit the way for me," Rama said to everyone, his eyes shining. "Now I am truly home." And that is why, even now, we light our lamps every year — to welcome love home again.