Chapter 50 Svarga Lost and Weakened Devas
The issue of divine weakness wasn't confined to Indra alone.
The great Devas of Fire, Water, Wind, and Sun also felt their strength waning. They had always drawn their power from the prayers and devotion of the mortal world. The faith and reverence of humans had always served as a conduit for their strength—each prayer, each ritual, and each offering from the worshippers had bolstered their divine forms, allowing them to maintain their positions as the caretakers of the natural world.
However, this connection had been severed as they had lost Svarga to Asuras. It was as if an unseen force was draining their power, leaving them hollow and frail. Among them, Surya, the Sun God, seemed to suffer the most.
Surya groaned, one hand pressing against his lower back as exhaustion weighed heavily on him. His golden complexion looked pale, a bitter expression etched across his face.
"Enough!" he snapped, waving his hand frantically. "Get out of my chariot! All of you, out!"
The sun-god chariot, dazzling with celestial radiance, was crammed with Devas and Gandharvas. The overburdened vehicle had pushed Surya's divine power to its limits. If not for Aruna's masterful navigation and the unparalleled strength of the chariot's fiery steeds, they might never have reached Brahmaloka.
Boom!
The overloaded chariot finally landed with a resounding crash, like a small mountain collapsing. The Devas spilled out of the chariot in a chaotic tumble, looking more like mortals than divine beings.
The Gandharvas, more agile, released their grip on the chariot's luminous ropes and landed gracefully on the ground. They straightened themselves, gazing around in awe and curiosity.
Before them stretched the divine expanse of Brahmaloka—a vast, tranquil void perfumed with the delicate fragrance of lotuses. Ethereal music, soft and otherworldly, resonated faintly in the air, filling their senses with peace.
And then, amidst the divine light that bathed the realm, a magnificent sight emerged. A radiant pink-and-white lotus materialized in the void, its petals unfurling like a sunrise. From the center of the lotus, the Creator, Brahma, appeared, seated cross-legged. His four faces gazed in all directions, embodying wisdom and omniscience. In his hands, he held the Vedas, a rosary, a lotus flower, and a kamandala, each symbolizing aspects of his boundless divinity.
The assembled crowd fell silent, humbled in the presence of the Creator. Indra, ever mindful of decorum, stepped forward, clasping his hands in reverence. His expression was solemn and respectful, his pride tempered by the gravity of the moment.
"Pranam Brahmadev!" he intoned, his voice carrying both humility and authority.
One by one, the Devas aligned themselves behind Indra, their movements now coordinated and dignified. The Gandharvas, ever graceful, mirrored their composure, standing neatly in rows.
In unison, their voices rose, a chant of devotion and respect.
"Pranam Brahma-Pita!"
"Pranam Brahma-Pita!"
Their words echoed through Brahmaloka, resonating like a hymn that reverberated into infinity.
The echoes of "Pranam" rippled through Brahmaloka, reverberating endlessly across the divine expanse. Fragrant lotus blossoms ascended into the air, filling the void with an otherworldly beauty.
The Gandharva guards stationed throughout the temple, along with the celestial dancers mid-performance, all turned toward Brahma. They paused in unison, bowing deeply to honor the Creator God.
Rahu, still groggy from his intoxication, stirred abruptly. His tail scratched the side of his head as if trying to shake off the haze. Then, with a sharp jolt, his detached head sprang into the air, swiveling toward the wine glass precariously balanced on his tail.
His disoriented expression shifted into irritation. "Seriously!" he muttered, spitting in exasperation.
Rahu raised his head—now reattached to his neck—and looked in the direction of Brahma. For the first time, a rare flicker of reverence appeared in his demeanor. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lowered himself into a posture of worship.
"Pranam, Brahma-Pita," Rahu murmured, his voice uncharacteristically solemn.
After all, Brahma was his ancestor. Rahu's father, Viprachitti, was the son of Sage Kashyapa and Diti, making Rahu a direct descendant of the Creator himself. Though his lineage was steeped in rebellion—his father Viprachitti, his mother Simhika, and the Asuras at large had waged countless wars against the Devas—Rahu could not completely deny the respect owed to Brahma.
Brahma's serene gaze swept across the Devas and Gandharvas gathered before him. Their collective chants of devotion resonated like waves, and for a fleeting moment, Brahma's snow-white beard twitched upwards in a subtle smile.
This level of reverence was once reserved for Vishnu, the Preserver of the universe. Yet now, here he was, basking in the honor.
With a deep, resonant voice, Brahma addressed the assembly. "Hiranyakashipu has seized the Svarga and declared himself the ruler of the Tri Loka. He outlawed prayer and rebelled against the Dharma. Mark my words—his downfall is inevitable!"
His gaze softened as he regarded the Devas, their weakened forms a testament to their suffering. "Devas," he continued, "for now, I can only ask you to endure this hardship."
For a moment, unease flickered in Brahma's eyes. Hiranyakashipu's ascent had been facilitated by a boon Brahma himself had granted. He silently hoped the Devas wouldn't hold it against him.
Indra stepped forward, his expression a mixture of resolve and satisfaction. The penance he had undertaken filled him with surging energy, like a kundalini fire spiraling through his body. The sensation was exhilarating.
"Lord Brahma," Indra began, his voice steady, "Hiranyakashipu may have overthrown Svarga, but in doing so, he has given us the opportunity for reflection and growth. Though we've lost the Svarga, I am confident that with the guidance of Trimurti, we can preserve the order of the universe."
Indra's lips curled into a slight smile. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt a flicker of hope.
Brahma's eyes opened slightly, their radiance casting an ethereal glow across the gathering. A subtle yet satisfied smile played on his lips, revealing his delight.
He relished hearing such optimism. "Stay here in Brahmaloka for now and live well," he said warmly, his voice imbued with reassurance.
With a nod of approval, Brahma's figure shimmered and vanished, leaving the Devas in his wake.
As soon as the Creator God disappeared, the solemn atmosphere dissipated like a passing storm. The Devas, their spirits rejuvenated, quickly returned to their usual jovial selves.
"Even though we've lost Svarga, we're now in Brahmaloka—the very realm of the Creator!" Agni declared, his fiery presence practically radiating confidence. "We're still above the Asuras, trampling them beneath our feet. And let's not forget—we haven't lost a single soldier yet!"
His words struck a chord.
"That's true!" Varuna chimed in, his watery gaze sparkling with newfound clarity.
The Devas' morale lifted even higher as a group of figures approached—Soma, the god of wine, alongside Brihaspati's celestial attendants and Brihaspati's wife, Tara.
Soma exuded a carefree aura, his silver armor gleaming brilliantly under the celestial light. His smile was as intoxicating as the divine drink he was known for.
"You've all fought countless battles against the Asuras—you must be exhausted," Soma said, his tone both soothing and inviting. "I've prepared plenty of soma ras for everyone to enjoy. Whenever you're ready, it's yours!"
He gestured grandly before adding, "The Apsaras have also prepared a dance to celebrate your safety and survival. Let us revel in this moment of peace!"
Cheers erupted among the Devas. The promise of wine and festivity was all they needed to lift their spirits completely.
"Drink with us, Soma!" Rahu shouted.
"Let's go!" Varuna cheered, already heading toward the festivities.
Surya, however, paused. A fond smile touched his lips as he turned toward the Sun Palace.
"Wait for me—I'll join you soon," he called over his shoulder. "I want to check on Sanjana first."
With that, the sun god took off, his radiant figure streaking toward his palace to reunite with his beloved wife before joining the celebration.
Vayu glanced at Indra, who was still standing beside him, a contemplative expression on his face. A playful smile tugged at Vayu's lips as he nudged his friend.
"Come on, Indra! Let's go!" he said with a teasing lilt. "You've got the strongest drinking capacity among us all. I want to see you outdrink everyone in one go!"
Indra stiffened, shaking his head vigorously like a rattling drum.
"Drink?!" he exclaimed, incredulous. "That would ruin my penance! Absolutely not! I'm not drinking!"
With an air of finality, he crossed his arms. "I need to rest. You go enjoy yourself."
Vayu's expression shifted to concern. "Rest? Are you hurt, King?"
As one of Indra's closest companions, Vayu's worry was genuine. His inquiry drew the attention of the other Devas, who had been boisterously preparing for the festivities but now turned toward their king, their faces etched with concern.
"I'm fine," Indra assured them quickly, waving off their worries. "I was just thinking about the grand counterattack to get back Svarga. When the time comes, I'll lead the charge to the Svarga and force out all the Asuras!"
His words, though spoken with conviction, were little more than bluster. The so-called grand counterattack was as nebulous as the shifting winds—plans on paper that changed with the seasons. Spring counterattack! Summer counterattack! Autumn and winter, too! It was a recurring cycle of ambition and delay.
The Devas, reassured by Indra's confident declaration, returned to their revelry with eased hearts.
Indra, however, slipped away into his palace, seeking solitude to resume his penance.
The Palace of the King of Svarga was a masterpiece of opulence. Every corner gleamed with golden splendor, the pillars encrusted with radiant gems that reflected dazzling light. Silken divine drapes softened the glow, casting a serene ambiance. A faint, entrancing fragrance of incense wafted through the air, adding to the palace's otherworldly allure.
"Pranam Indra dev!"
The melodic voices of Apsaras greeted him as he passed. Their eyes sparkled like stars, their teeth pearly white against their warm smiles. Their beauty, matched only by their grace, seemed to bring the very palace to life.
Indra nodded in acknowledgment, his thoughts momentarily diverted by their presence. Despite the grandeur and admiration surrounding him, his mind remained focused on his penance—a beacon of stability in the ever-shifting realm of the divine.
Indra stood frozen for a moment, staring at his surroundings with a blank expression.
"...This is no place for ascetic practice," he muttered under his breath.
The golden light reflecting off every surface, the fragrant breeze, and the overwhelming opulence of the palace left him feeling out of place.
"This is not okay!" he exclaimed, frustration slipping into his tone. "I came here prepared to endure hardship, not bask in luxury!"
With a determined pout, Indra spun on his heel and left the palace of the King of Svarga.
But where to go?
He paused at the entrance, glancing around the gleaming city of Amravati. Every corner shimmered with golden light, so extravagantly radiant it nearly made his head spin.
"Why is Amravati City like this?!" he grumbled. "Why is everything so overdone?"
His frown deepened as he scanned the horizon. The indulgence of his surroundings only served to remind him of his goal. "I'm an ascetic," he resolved, "and I need a place that reflects that. Maybe the Nandana Garden will do the trick."
The Nandana Garden was near a place where the Devas stored their weapons. To his recollection, it was a modest and unassuming space—nothing like the grandeur of Amravati.
The Svarga had been at peace for so long that the Nandana Garden had fallen out of regular use. It seemed like the perfect retreat for his penance.
With his mind made up, Indra set off, his footsteps resolute as he moved toward the more subdued corner of Svarga.
---
Chapter 51 The Forgotten Power of Astras
Speaking of weapons, the craftsmanship of Vishvakarma, the god of artisans, was unparalleled. His divine creations were nothing short of extraordinary. These weapons possessed the ability to be summoned with ease. All the Devas had to do was open their hands, and in a flash of golden light, the weapon would materialize, ready for battle. When not in use, the weapons could be carried on their bodies, always at the ready.
The weapons left in the armory near the Nandana Garden were rarely used, and preserved as symbols of divine power and craftsmanship. Indra walked briskly toward the garden, eager to revisit the sacred grounds.
The Nandana Garden dazzled with its splendor, its golden palace gleaming in the light. Inside, the black altars were more majestic than ever, their magnificence surpassing even the previous design. The garden's layout maintained the unified, ethereal style of Amravati, the city of the Devas.
"Huh?!" Indra paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Why does it look different?"
His eyes scanned the surroundings before landing on the Gandharva warriors who stood guard in the garden.
"King of Svarga," one of the Gandharvas, named Sudarshan, spoke carefully, sensing the question in Indra's eyes. "You used to come here often, to fight and spar with the Devas after drinking. So, the god of craftsmanship, Vishvakarma, personally reinforced and renovated this place. He made it stronger and more beautiful than ever before."
Sudarshan, standing with pride, continued, "And not only that, my lord, but the Kalpavriksha has also been planted here by you. Its divine powers protect this sacred garden, granting prosperity and ensuring its strength. The tree's presence enhances the temple's power and draws in the blessings of the Brahmand. It's said that the gardens will thrive as long as the Kalpavriksha stands."
Indra clicked his tongue, disbelief mixed with admiration. "The god of craftsmanship, indeed..." he muttered. "Renovating my house without telling me, and making it so impressive..."
He shook his head, amused by the god's attention to detail. With his mind still racing, he turned his gaze toward the temple ahead. His eyes narrowed as he approached, stepping into the familiar space filled with memories, and came to a shrine.
There, a divine chakra, radiant with golden light, spun effortlessly. The flames that danced around it flickered like blades, slicing through the void with divine precision. It was the Surya Chakra—a weapon of immense power, forged by the hands of Vishvakarma, with Surya aiding in its creation.
Indra recalled the tale of how this weapon came to be. Surya had long radiated his brilliance across the heavens. His light, unmatched by any other, was a source of life and strength. Recognizing the need for a weapon that could match the sun's radiant power, Indra called upon Vishvakarma, the divine architect. Yet it was not only Vishvakarma who shaped the Surya Chakra—Surya himself, with his divine energy, contributed to its creation. The very essence of his light was infused into the weapon, allowing it to shine with the same intensity as the sun itself.
"Such a marvel..." Indra murmured, gazing in awe at the weapon's brilliance.
Unfortunately, he sighed, casting a regretful glance at the wheel. "But I still it will help us in our current situation... what a waste."
He shook his head and continued forward, his eyes landing on the shrine, where two nail hammers rested, waiting for their next use.
Two maces lay side by side, their surfaces crackling with divine energy. On the left, moist blue lightning flickered, while on the right, dry red lightning radiated with an intense, almost oppressive force. The two bolts of lightning surged between them, dancing in a chaotic harmony.
These maces, known as Vṛṣṭi and Duṣkarṣa, were weapons of great power. Vṛṣṭi summoned lightning and rain, while Duṣkarṣa conjured the dried the land where it was struck and brought famine. Despite their power of destruction, their functions overlapped with that of the Vajra and his authority of rain, rendering them less useful in battle. As a result, Indra rarely wielded them, leaving them to gather dust in the corners of the Nandana Garden.
Indra moved past them, his focus unwavering, but as he did, a divine spear materialized before him. The Amogha Spear gleamed with a sharp, cold light, its form sleek and deadly, reminiscent of a javelin designed for destruction.
The Amogha Spear was renowned for its unmatched sharpness. Once thrown, it could multiply into billions of lethal projectiles, each one capable of piercing an enemy's heart without fail.
Indra raised his hand and grasped the spear's shaft. The familiar weight and balance felt comforting, like an old companion. A thought crossed his mind, pragmatic and decisive. "Just in case, I'll bring it with me."
His gaze swept across the altars surrounding him, his eyes narrowing as they landed on a golden conch. The Panchajanya Conch. It was a symbol of divine power—when blown, it produced a sound like thunder that instilled awe and fear in enemies who heard it.
Without hesitation, Indra's mind reached out, and the conch transformed into a beam of golden light, soaring into his body. "Take this too," he muttered to himself.
His footsteps echoed softly as he turned to leave, but his gaze lingered on Vṛṣṭi and Duṣkarṣa. He hesitated, then sighed. "It seems a waste to leave them behind."
With a flick of his hand, both maces flashed with golden light and vanished, now safely tucked within his divine arsenal. "Better to have them on hand, just in case," he mused.
As he moved through the garden, his eyes fell on a familiar divine Chakra. "Such a shame to let it gather dust," he said, shaking his head. With another wave of his hand, the wheel transformed into golden light and joined the rest of his divine weapons.
He continued his walk, his thoughts racing as he gathered any item he might need for the trials ahead. "This hook, this net... who knows when they might prove useful?" he muttered, collecting them too.
With everything now in his possession, Indra walked confidently through the Nandana Gardens, prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.
For a moment, golden light flickered ceaselessly as the divine weapons in the temple were drawn into Indra's body. In an instant, the altar stood empty, the once-proud artifacts now concealed within him.
Indra smiled, satisfied, and slowly made his way out of the temple.
"Do a good job!" he called out, casting a casual glance at the Gandharva warriors standing guard.
"Yes, Lord Indra!" they responded in unison, their voices full of resolve. "We will protect the Astras with our lives!"
Indra nodded approvingly, his expression softening for a brief moment. Then, he turned, his steps purposeful. This, he thought, was not the place for ascetic practice.
His eyes shifted toward the skies, the vastness of the Brahmaloka calling to him. "Why not seek a quiet deserted place in Brahmaloka instead?" he mused aloud. The thought felt right—there, he would find the peace needed for the spiritual work ahead.
Suddenly, a loud trumpet-like sound echoed through the air. Prrraaaaa!! The noise was unmistakable.
"Airavata?" Indra smiled, recognizing the call of his mighty elephant. He followed the sound, stepping into a serene mixed forest garden. Around him, vibrant grass grew in thick clusters, wildflowers dotted the landscape, and a crystal-clear lake stretched out, reflecting the majestic form of a snow-white giant elephant, its three heads and six tusks gleaming in the soft sunlight.
"This place is perfect," Indra mused, nodding with satisfaction. The tranquility of the surroundings made it an ideal spot for his ascetic practice. It would be far better than any place within Amravati City.
He stood for a moment, breathing in the peaceful atmosphere before a shift of his mind brought his Sahsrakavacha—the protective armor—vanishing in a flash. Now, standing beneath the shade of a nearby tree, Indra was dressed simply in a plain white robe embroidered with gold. His black hair cascaded around his shoulders, and a rosary hung from his neck, two more strings of beads wrapped tightly around his muscular arms.
The transformation was seamless.
Indra felt the familiar hum of power surge through him, the divine energy within him becoming more alive, more intense—like a storm gathering force. The spiritual heat built up in his body, invigorating him with each passing moment.
Slowly, he walked under the shelter of a Bodhi tree, the branches thick with leaves casting soft, mottled shadows on the ground. He sank into the lush grass, folding his arms behind his head, eyes closing in quiet satisfaction.
"The Svarga is good, but Brahmaloka... it's truly perfect," Indra whispered, feeling the peaceful energy of the place seep into his very being. "This will do. I'll practice hard here."
It had taken an effort to find this peaceful refuge, but now, with his body relaxed and his spirit beginning to align, Indra let go of the day's troubles. His mind slowed, his body sinking deeper into the earth. The calming sound of the nearby lake, the soft rustle of the trees—soon, Indra drifted into a deep, meditative sleep.
The skyline of Svarga gleamed in the distance, where majestic temples stood, their architecture simple yet solemn. These structures were dark in hue, their quiet elegance punctuated by the presence of water chestnuts growing in the surrounding waters.
At the heart of Svarga, in the grandest and most regal of these temples, King Hiranyakashipu, ruler of the Asuras, sat upon his golden throne. The temple exuded an aura of power, but tension also hung thick in the air. Shukracharya, the revered teacher of the Asuras, stood before him, his expression serious as he regarded his former pupil.
"Hiranyakashipu," Shukracharya began his voice grave, "you have forbidden the yajnas and prayers to the Devas. This is a direct violation of the laws. If you continue down this path, your rule over Svarga will be short-lived."
Hiranyakashipu's face tightened, his gaze turning steely as his hands gripped the armrests of his throne. He was silent for a moment, the weight of his teacher's words settling heavily on him.
"Teacher," he finally spoke, his voice laced with anger, "I understand what you are saying. But the King of Svarga, Indra, and Vishnu—they killed my elder brother. The Devas are no better, complicit in the murder. I cannot forgive them, and I will make them pay."
His fists clenched as he spoke, a surge of rage filling his chest. The thought of torturing Indra for revenge was intoxicating, yet he knew that Indra was shielded by the Amrita, the nectar of immortality, and thus could not be slain—at least not yet.
Shukracharya shook his head, disappointment etched into his features. "But in seeking vengeance, you are rebelling against the divine law. The Trimurti will take action if you continue this defiance."
Hiranyakashipu fell into a brooding silence. The tension in the room was palpable as the moments passed, and after a long pause, he spoke again, his tone resolute.
"Teacher," he said quietly, "I ask for your help."
It was clear that Hiranyakashipu had not abandoned his pursuit of vengeance, no matter the consequences.
Shukracharya sighed deeply. His former pupil was stubborn, unlike Hiranyaksha, who had been reckless. Hiranyakashipu was more calculated, more determined—once he set his mind to something, he would not easily be swayed.
"I cannot help you in the way you wish," Shukracharya replied, his voice measured. "But if Indra was captured, would you reconsider your course of action?"
A glimmer of interest sparked in Hiranyakashipu's eyes, and he raised a finger in sudden realization. "Teacher," he said, his voice now tinged with a renewed fervor, "you have a way. If Indra is captured, then I will decree that only Vishnu be denied prayers—just Vishnu, no one else."
Shukracharya's mind raced as he considered the implications. Banning sacrifices to Vishnu alone would be a far lesser transgression than prohibiting all Devas. It would draw less divine ire, yet still send a strong message.
"Very well," Shukracharya thought, contemplating the path ahead. "This may be the key to your victory—or your downfall."
"The Devas are essential for maintaining nature and the world," Shukracharya explained, his tone measured yet firm. "Surya rides in his chariot which Surya itself across the sky to ensure the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. This cosmic cycle cannot be disrupted."
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "When Indra commands the thunder and clouds, it brings the rains. Vishnu, the protector of the world, keeps them all in check, ensuring they perform their duties."
Shukracharya's eyes glinted with quiet certainty. "In two days, the Devas will attempt to emerge from Brahmaloka. The first to do so will likely be Vayu, the wind god. Do not intimidate him."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "When he comes out, tell him that while you will no longer stop devas from fulfilling their duties, you will continue to prevent humans from worshipping them. Make them believe that your opposition is stopping them from doing their Dharma, but due to their Karma in killing your brother."
Shukracharya's gaze darkened as he spoke of his strategy. "No matter how cautious the Devas are, they will grow careless over time. In a year their vigilance will falter."
He straightened, his eyes burning with resolve. "When the next monsoon comes—when the Devas' power, weakened by the lack of prayers and yajnas, and the strength of the remaining bond of Svarga and Indra itself will start to wane—you will make your move. Capture Indra, and the power of not just Svarga and Patala but even the human world will be within your grasp. You can finally have your revenge on Indra and be King of Triloka."
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Chapter 52 The Call to Action in Brahmaloka
In the celestial city of Amravati, the Devas gathered in the grand palace, their laughter echoing through the halls. The banquet table was laden with food and drink, surrounded by goddesses who toasted and sipped on Soma wine, their voices mingling with the golden light that filled the space.
A brilliant flash of light appeared at the entrance, announcing the arrival of Sun God Surya. His golden sleeves shimmered as he entered, his radiance filling the room. He made his way to an empty seat, the light around him flickering like the sun at high noon.
Vayu, with a playful grin, raised his glass and called out, "Surya, what took you so long?"
Surya smiled, his posture straightening slightly, a gleam of warmth in his eyes. "Sanjna was worried about me, so I stayed with her for a while, until she finally drifted off to sleep. You see, I used to travel across the skies every day, brighten all corners of the world. But tonight, she asked me to stay. She couldn't help but worry about my safety. So, I thought it best to stay by her side for once and give her some comfort. Now, with her resting peacefully, I can finally enjoy this soma and relax, truly relax."
A chorus of laughter filled the hall, the Devas well aware of the deep love between Surya and his wife. Their relationship was the subject of many whispered tales in the divine realms.
Surya, now seated comfortably, lifted his glass and gestured toward the far end of the table, where Rahu sat with his serpent tail coiled elegantly behind him. "Rahu, a toast to you!" Surya said with a warm smile. "How are you adjusting to life here in Brahmaloka? Is it better than your time in Patalaloka?"
Rahu's grin widened, his mischievous eyes twinkling as he tilted his head back. "I'm getting quite accustomed to it—so much so that I almost forget what Patalaloka even feels like." His voice carried a playful note, and with a fluid motion, he raised his glass high. His serpent tail swirled around the wine goblet, moving with a grace that seemed almost hypnotic.
Soma, always the lively spirit of their gatherings, leaned in with a mischievous grin of his own and raised his glass. "Hahaha! The two nodes of the moon you control, Rahu, are indeed formidable. When they align, they swallow the light of both me and Surya. But do not worry, we'll regain our brilliance soon enough, as we always do."
Rahu's laugh echoed through the hall, wild and carefree. "Ah, Soma, don't fret! Even if I swallow your light, I'll spit it back out in no time. And if you ever need anything—whether it's a little chaos or a reminder of my power—just call on me! I am always ready for some mischief."
Surya and Soma exchanged amused glances, the camaraderie between them clear. With a shared chuckle, they raised their glasses in agreement, their voices in unison: "Cheers to that!"
The three Devas clinked their glasses, the sound ringing clear through the hall like the chime of a bell. They drank, and for a moment, the entire temple seemed to pause in a moment of divine luxury and revelry, the golden light of the Devas shimmering brighter than ever.
…
Kshira Sagara stretched out, its ethereal waters bordering the serene realm of Vaikuntha. In the heart of this sacred place, Vishnu lay on his divine bed, propped up on one elbow, his head resting gently in his hand. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, as he drifted between the realms of sleep and meditation, lost in quiet contemplation.
But then—
A sudden shift.
His eyes snapped open, focused, piercing through the fabric of the cosmos. He stared intently into the human world.
The world below had fallen into unnatural darkness. The sun was absent, the moonlight extinguished, and the winds were eerily still. Sounds were muted as if the very essence of life had been swallowed whole. Fires refused to burn, and rivers lay stagnant, devoid of their usual flow.
For the Devas, Asuras, Rakshasas, and Yakshas, such disturbances were of little concern. Their power shielded them from the subtle ripples that troubled the mortal realm. But there were countless beings weaker than these, and for them, the world was growing perilous.
Vishnu's gaze shifted toward Svarga. There, a group of Asuras had built a lavish city, indulging in fine wines and sumptuous feasts, basking in the comfort of their ill-gotten paradise.
A heavy sigh escaped Vishnu's lips, a look of concern shadowing his usually serene face.
"Husband, are you sighing for Hiranyakashipu?" Goddess Lakshmi asked, her delicate voice full of tenderness, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
Vishnu's expression grew troubled as he looked up at her.
"Hiranyakashipu has seized Svarga for himself," Vishnu replied gravely. "He has banned the humans from offering them Yajana and prayers to Devas and me. This could lead to catastrophe in the human world. Without their prayers the devas will grow weaker and weaker sooner or later they won't be able to do their duties. If we wait for him to fully rebel against the Dharma, the mortals may not survive long enough to see the end of it."
Lakshmi's brow furrowed, a glint of concern flashing in her eyes. "Who does Hiranyakashipu hate the most?"
Vishnu's reply was instant, almost reflexive. "Me, and Indra."
Lakshmi's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Then why not send other Devas to challenge him? After all, they have drunk the Amrita and are immortal. Let them try. Even if they can't defeat him, they can always retreat."
Vishnu chuckled softly at her suggestion, a warm smile forming on his lips. "Ah, then let's summon the Devas back."
He paused for a moment, his expression shifting to one of quiet confidence. "As for the divine power, the Devas lack at the moment... they reside in Brahmaloka. I'm certain that Brahma will offer them his help."
A tender smile graced the corners of Vishnu's mouth as his gaze softened, focusing on Lakshmi. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the entire cosmos seemed to pause in the warmth of their shared understanding.
Together, they smiled, a silent promise of what was to come.
Brahmaloka.
"Naryana Naryana~"
The sound of a deep, respectful bow echoed in the air as Narada Muni, the messenger sage, emerged from his meditation. His eyes flickered with curiosity as they darted from side to side, a mischievous glint dancing in their depths. A smile tugged at the corners of his chubby face as he considered the message that had just entered his mind.
During his meditation, he heard the voice of Lord Vishnu, clear and resonant, calling for his assistance.
"Lord, I would be happy to help you!" Narada Muni murmured with a grin, as though already anticipating the task before him.
With a flourish, he reached for the garland that hung around his neck and slowly rose to his feet. A burst of light swirled around him as he summoned his veena, the divine instrument appearing in his hands. His movements were deliberate and graceful, Narada Muni walked toward the temple where the Devas were gathered, preparing for their second round of celebration.
Within the temple.
The Devas, having just finished their first round of divine libations, were preparing for the second. As beings of immense power, they could drink as much as the oceans themselves. However, in Brahmaloka, even they were mindful of their limits—none of them dared to become intoxicated.
"Don't be in a rush—drink slowly!" Surya laughed heartily, his voice rich with mirth.
The temple was filled with an air of luxury and joy, the Gandharva musicians on either side playing their instruments in a harmonious symphony. The beautiful goddesses danced gracefully to the music, their movements so fluid and ethereal that they resembled peacocks with their wings spread wide, a vision of grace and beauty.
Ding ding ding~
Suddenly, the sound of a veena being played pierced the air. The music was jarring, out of place, and so harsh that it sent ripples of discomfort through the temple. The Devas winced and instinctively covered their ears as the delicate rhythm they had been enjoying was abruptly shattered.
"Narayana Naryana~"
Narada Muni, with his veena cradled in his arms, strode into the temple with his usual wide grin. The sound of his music was so discordant that even the usual serenity of Brahmaloka seemed to flinch.
The Devas turned in unison, their faces a mixture of surprise and confusion.
"By the gods… the sound is so harsh!"
Their eyes widened, and they stared at Narada Muni in disbelief. Despite carrying his veena every day, the sage's playing was notoriously off-key and unpleasant. How could someone with such divine instruments produce such a cacophony?
"Pranam Narada Muni!" Surya and the others clasped their hands together in greeting, bowing respectfully despite their discomfort.
"Pranam Devo!" Narada Muni returned the gesture, his hands joined in salutation. His gaze swept over the gathered beings, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
After a brief pause, he spoke with a gleam of purpose in his eyes. "I was meditating when I heard the will of Lord Vishnu. Hiranyakashipu has taken control of Svarga, and the human world is in peril. I have come to ask the Devas to take action and restore order to the mortal realm."
The atmosphere in the temple shifted instantly. The Devas, once full of laughter and merriment, now froze. Their expressions turned solemn as the weight of Narada Muni's words settled upon them.
The air grew heavy with unspoken thoughts, as they processed the gravity of the situation.
"This... us?!" Surya's face contorted in a bitter frown, and the light that usually radiated from his form dimmed. He subconsciously placed a hand on his lower back, where phantom pains lingered. The memory of his sacred chariot nearly torn apart by the fleeing Gandharvas surged back. His magical energy had been drained in that chaotic moment, and the sting of it still haunted him.
"I'm afraid we are no match for Hiranyakashipu," Surya murmured, his voice laced with concern.
Vayu, ever straightforward, nodded gravely. "The Devas haven't rested yet."
"We are also suffering from a lack of faith from the human world," Agni added, his tone heavy with weariness.
Water God Varuna spread his hands dramatically, leaning back against his throne, his expression mournful. "We're no match for him without the power of our divine faith. What do we do now?"
Narada Muni chuckled softly and waved a dismissive hand.
"Oh, the Lord only asked you to test your strength," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If Hiranyakashipu stops you, you can always retreat. If he doesn't, then you've fulfilled your duty."
The Devas fell silent for a moment, considering his words.
"Is that all?" Surya frowned, deep in thought. "But who will be the first to go? We can't all just sit here."
The Devas exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to proceed.
"The Lord didn't specify," Narada Muni said with a sly smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He tilted his head playfully and held his veena with one hand. "But among the Devas, there is one who stands above all—the King of Svarga, Indra."
His grin widened as he spoke. "Only his divine power and physical prowess can truly challenge Hiranyakashipu. He is the best candidate for the task."
The Devas stared at Narada Muni, their expressions shifting from confusion to realization. There was no denying the truth of his words.
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