She took her own seat among the circle of chairs. “Ahem. I will now call to order the first official meeting of Confections and Conspiracies. For those of you who may have wound up here by accident—or maybe, by divine intervention—I should explain that this is a club for enthusiasts of baked goods and inexplicable phenomena. Each week, we will be discussing the claims and ideas that the majority of society is so inclined to cast off. We’ll also be sharing cookies, cakes, and candy, and swapping recipes if I’m feeling generous.” She smiled at her joke, but was disappointed no one seemed amused. She cleared her throat again. “I hope you all are enjoying the cosmic brownies I brought this evening.” At this there was resounding agreement, much to her delight.
“Before I forget, I’d like to announce that next week, Melvin is bringing a cake in the shape of Elvis’ face, as he says that Elvis is not only still alive, but also living behind the counter of a Wal-mart bakery in suburban New Hampshire. And may I say, Melvin, we are all looking forward to that cake.” Everyone turned toward shy Melvin, who seemed to literally shrink under all of the attention.
“Now, let’s get started, shall we?” Aurelia looked around the room. “Is there anyone who would like to speak up first about what conspiracy theories you… subscribe to?”
Immediately, there was a loud cacophony of eager, earnest, and evidently suppressed claims and declarations.
“Bigfoot is real, and my uncle is married to her!”
“Pinky toes are alien parasites!”
“Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy are really twins separated across time and DNA!”
Aurelia tried to rein in the group, though she was happy to see them so enlivened. “Calm! Calm! One at a time please! We’ll all have a chance to speak. I know I myself have plenty to say about the underground Martian colonies and their slow and subtle takeover of the pop music industry.”
The room grew quiet again, and Aurelia saw a young girl on the other side of the circle patiently waiting to say her piece. She was holding a copy of the Ramayana.
Aurelia said to her warmly, “Young miss, would you like to go first? Say your name, please, and tell us your theory.”
“Um, hello. My name is Beatrice,” she said to the group, though she was looking at her feet. “Are any of you very familiar with the Ramayana, the story of Rama’s Way?”
Only a couple of hands went up, so Beatrice briefly summarized it for the benefit of everyone else. After, she went on to explain the conspiracy.
“It is my belief that Ravana the Demon King did in fact plot his own death as an act of benevolence. He sought a noble passing at the hand of the Lord Narayana in compliance with the gods’ determination that it was time the world was rid of the evil he had sown.”
“What evidence do you have!?” a grumpy old man retorted. “He stole Sita from Rama purely out of lust and selfishness, and he fought tooth and nail to keep the evil coming!”
“Well… There was Ravana’s letter to Rama. He sent it even before they batteld, saying he knew that Rama was going to kill him. He directly stated that the capture of Sita, to which you are alluding, was simply a ploy to lure in Rama and start the inevitable and extremely necessary war between them. Ravana knew his part in the universe. He was evil, and his time was up. He planned it all. The whole war. All of Rama’s journey. It was all part of Ravana’s grand scheme, and he wrote that down before his death. That’s the evidence.”
Someone else piped up, “Oh yeah? Then why did Rama laugh at the letter?”
“Rama also understood Ravana’s part in the universe. Ravana was a villain. He was the evil that Rama was sent to this world to defeat. Rama knew this instantly as he read the letter, but he said it was meaningless because these things needed to remain true, even in Ravana’s death.”
“I’m still not convinced.”
Beatrice boldened. “Do you think that someone who could take prisoner the great gods of this world and the next could be so easily defeated by a mortal man? And just for one more wife among hundreds of others? I think not. Ravana played his role well. He really was a terrific actor. A triple threat, really. He could also dance. And sing. And the Oscar goes to…” She looked around to see a smiling face, but again, this was not the crowd for jokes. She sighed. “I also brought some homemade shortbread cookies cut in the shape of arrows. They have ‘Rama’ written on them in icing. They are decorated to look like the ones that severed Ravana’s ten heads.”
Aurelia clapped her hands. “Excellent! Thank you, Beatrice! What an interesting theory to consider. And those cookies look… appetizing, indeed. Who’s next?”
 |
| (Ravana) |
Author’s Note:
The part that intrigued me most at the end of the Ramayana was Ravana’s letter to Rama. It essentially said that he knew Rama was going to kill him, and he was happy to die so nobly. He claimed he took Sita just to give Rama a reason to start a war with him. Rama quickly dismissed the note. I really wanted to write about this, but I thought it would be boring coming directly from me, and I didn’t want to try to get into Ravana’s heads. So I framed it inside a conspiracy theorist club / support group meeting.
Bibliography: Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way.
.jpg)
