Long before Lady Sita became the reason Rama and Ravana chased each other to the ends of the realm, the two of them already disliked each other.
And the reason was incredibly trivial.
So trivial that Lakshmana once said that if it ever made it into the history books, he would be embarrassed to be part of the royal family.
It all began years ago, when Rama was not yet king and Ravana was not quite so busy managing Alengka.
They met at an inter-kingdom competition.
The competition itself was not important.
It was only a friendly archery match.
Rama won.
Ravana came in second.
The problem was not losing.
The problem was what happened after the match, when Rama approached him.
“Not bad.”
Ravana turned.
“Yeah.”
“You almost won.”
“Almost?”
Rama nodded.
“If I’d been just a little slower, you might have won.”
Ravana stared at him.
“So you admit I almost beat you?”
“More or less.”
Ravana smiled.
That should have been the end of it.
But Rama added,
“Too bad you’re so flashy.”
Ravana’s smile vanished.
“What?”
“Your movements are too broad.”
“I fired three arrows at once.”
“And two of them missed.”
Ravana fell silent.
So did the spectators.
Lakshmana, standing not far away, immediately covered his face.
That was the first time they argued.
Not over politics.
Not over territory.
Not over a struggle for power.
Only because Rama had commented on Ravana’s archery technique.
From then on, every time they met, things ended the same way.
Rama thought Ravana was too arrogant.
Ravana thought Rama was too annoying.
They met again later at a royal banquet.
Ravana was getting some food when Rama approached from behind.
“You still eat that much?”
Ravana turned.
“I’m eating.”
“I know.”
“Then?”
“Nothing.”
Rama walked away.
Ravana stood there, spoon in hand.
“Did he just call me fat?”
His guard shook his head.
“I don’t think so, My Lord.”
“You don’t think so?”
“My Lord, perhaps we should just eat.”
From that day on, their rivalry became increasingly ridiculous.
Rama once won a royal board game and said,
“Not bad.”
Ravana lost.
He accused the board of being uneven.
Rama once got the best horse in a competition.
Ravana said his horse had won only because it was taller.
When Ravana solved a royal riddle faster than Rama, Rama said,
“Good.”
Ravana got annoyed instead.
“Just good?”
“What else?”
“You should admit that I’m smarter.”
Rama raised an eyebrow.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because then you’ll get conceited.”
“I am conceited!”
“Exactly.”
That was how they were.
They were like two little kids who happened to be heirs to their kingdoms.
And yet, strangely, beneath all their disputes was a respect neither of them ever acknowledged.
Rama knew Ravana was intelligent.
Ravana knew Rama was a great leader.
They were simply too stubborn to say it.
Lakshmana once even asked Rama,
“If you actually respect Ravana, Brother, why do you argue every time you meet?”
Rama answered casually,
“Because he’s annoying.”
Elsewhere, Ravana received a similar question.
“My Lord, do you actually admire Rama?”
Ravana answered immediately,
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“He’s annoying.”
“Right.”
“And he talks too much.”
“Right.”
“And his face is way too confident.”
“Right.”
Ravana fell silent for a moment.
“...But he is handsome and impressive.”
The guard pretended not to hear.
Their relationship changed when Rama married Sita.
Ravana gained a new reason to hate Rama.
And Rama gained a new reason to dislike Ravana.
But even after Sita became the center of their conflict, their basic natures did not change.
They still annoyed each other.
Still mocked each other.
Still competed over things that did not actually matter.
Only this time, the stakes were not an archery match or a board game.
The stakes were the same person they both wanted.
And they had no idea that one day, circumstances would force them to do something both of them considered far worse than losing a competition.
Work together.