Chapter 64 Devouring Roar
Narasimha opened his massive jaws, baring razor-sharp teeth and glistening fangs. Tilting his head back, he unleashed a wild, earth-shaking roar.
Waves of divine power surged within his monstrous form, radiating outward as invisible ripples. The Svargas trembled under sheer force; stars crumbled from the heavens, the human world quaked violently, and even the fabric of the universe began to fray.
Having devoured Surya, the Sun itself, Narasimha's power swelled to terrifying new heights. The deadly poison of Halahala, feared by all creation, seemed insignificant in his presence, suppressed by his overwhelming might.
"Raaawwrrrrr!!!" The deafening sound reverberated across realms.
But his hunger remained insatiable. He craved more. He needed more.
Saliva dripped from his fangs like a torrential river, pooling beneath him as his fiery red eyes blazed with unholy hunger. Like twin suns, they scanned the vast expanse, seeking traces of the Devas. His beastly instincts flared as he detected their presence, and his lips curled into a feral snarl.
"SPIT THEM OUT!" Indra's commanding voice thundered from behind him, brimming with righteous anger. Indra's roar echoed across Svarga, reverberating through the skies, shaking the heavens, and forcing even Narasimha to pause.
Narasimha's fur bristled, each strand standing on end like a startled predator. Panic flickered briefly in his eyes before he whipped around, looking like a lion caught off guard. Then, like a great cat bristling in defiance, his divine energy exploded outward, setting the air ablaze with scorching flames.
In an instant, he shot upward, propelled by sheer fury and instinct.
The sweet, tantalizing scent of prey wafted through the air, and his sharp senses honed in on it. His lips curled back, and a guttural growl escaped his throat as he flew faster, his speed reaching unimaginable levels.
There! He had found it—the perfect prey, easier to devour and far more tempting than the spiked thorn in his path. The so-called thorn could wait; Narasimha would feast first.
With an unyielding hunger and a determination to consume all, Narasimha streaked across the skies like a blazing comet, heading straight for Brahmaloka. His confidence surged. He was no longer afraid.
Fear? Narasimha laughed inwardly. Fear is for the weak.
A fiery stream of light, he tore through the cosmos, unstoppable in his quest for destruction and dominance.
…
The Devas stood frozen in shock and terror.
All eyes were locked on the luminous mirror, where the monstrous form of Narasimha loomed, his image crackling with divine energy. It felt like the lion god could leap out of the reflection at any moment.
"Narasimha is coming!"
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The pounding of their hearts echoed like a chorus of celestial drums—the "Damaru Drum" itself, heralding impending doom. Wide-eyed and pale, the Devas exchanged helpless glances, their expressions a mixture of horror and despair.
"Lord Brahma!"
Rishi Brihaspati turned abruptly, his hands clasped in desperation as he prayed to the Creator. His voice quivered with urgency.
The other Devas quickly followed suit, bowing their heads and pressing their palms together, their pleas weak and trembling. Their fear was palpable, and their once-divine confidence was reduced to pitiful fragility.
Brahma sat in uneasy silence.
He couldn't deny that he relished the adoration of the Devas, their prayers sweet as nectar to his ears. But this? This was beyond even his vast capabilities. How was a retired creator supposed to stop an unstoppable Narasimha?
"Should I curse him?" Brahma muttered under his breath, unsure if even that would suffice.
As if in response to his hesitation, the very foundations of Brahmaloka trembled violently.
Brahma's hands shook as he grasped his sacred kettle, the holy water within nearly spilling over. His face twisted in shock and fear as an earsplitting roar shattered the skies.
From below, Narasimha surged upward, his divine form growing to colossal proportions. His mountainous body loomed over Brahmaloka like a shadow of doom.
"Raaawwrrrrr!!!"
The furious roar erupted like a storm, the vibrations tearing through the heavens. The Devas fell to their knees, unable to withstand the overwhelming waves of sound.
Narasimha's maw opened wide, his bloodstained fangs glinting like the edges of a black hole. The suction force that emanated from his mouth was indescribable, dragging Devas and Rishis alike into the abyss.
"NO!" The cry echoed among the ranks of the celestial beings as chaos broke loose.
The Gandharva armies, once valiant and proud, were swept away like leaves in a gale. One by one, they hurtled into the gaping jaws of Narasimha, disappearing as if consumed by a voracious whirlpool.
Even Rahu, the mischievous Asura, found himself caught in the chaos. His black smoke form twisted and writhed, desperately trying to resist the pull.
"I'm not even a deva—I'm an Asura!" Rahu screamed in panic. "This is a mistake! I am the one who swallows Surya and Chandra. Not the the other way around."
Thud!
A stray Gandharva warrior collided with Rahu's head, sending it spinning like a top.
"W-wait!" Rahu stammered, dazed as his vision blurred and stars danced before his eyes. His body coiled instinctively, but it was too late. With a final, comical tumble, he was sucked into the gaping maw of Narasimha, vanishing into the void.
The last echoes of his protests were drowned out by Narasimha's triumphant, guttural roar. The destruction of Brahmaloka had begun.
"Ahhhhh!"
Agni screamed, his fiery aura flickering wildly as he was swallowed whole by Narasimha's colossal jaws. The fire god barely had time to react before vanishing into the darkness.
"Help!"
Varuna's desperate cry echoed briefly before he too was pulled into the gaping maw, his watery form swirling into oblivion.
Vayu lowered his head against the relentless pull of the suction. Gale-force winds whipped around him as he summoned all his power to resist. His legs moved in a blur, spinning like a wheel as he sprinted across the celestial plains, desperate to escape the beast's hunger.
Roar!
Narasimha inhaled deeply, the air itself bending to his will. The devouring force surged, and Vayu was dragged backward, his resistance failing. He spun helplessly in midair, a leaf caught in a merciless storm.
Beside him, Soma, the moon god, was swept up as well.
"Father! Help me!"
Soma's voice cracked with terror, his face pale and contorted in fear. He flailed against the rushing wind, his silvery glow dimming as he was pulled closer to Narasimha's gaping maw. He reached out, his fingers trembling, grasping at nothingness.
"Soma!"
Rishi Atri stood rooted in place, his wooden staff clutched tightly in one hand. He stretched his free hand toward his son, his voice raw with anguish.
But it was too late. Soma, his cries swallowed by the howling winds, was dragged into Narasimha's mouth and consumed.
"SOMA!"
A cry of unimaginable grief echoed through the very fabric of the cosmos. Rishi Atri's voice trembled, filled with sorrow. His hand reached desperately into the vast, empty void where his beloved son had vanished, his fingers grasping at the space where once there had been warmth and life. His eyes, wide with despair, flickered with a deep, unfathomable loss.
...
Long ago, Tridevi Saraswati, Lakshmi, and Parvati sat together, discussing devotion and virtue. Each goddess, devoted to her divine husband, believed that no woman could surpass them in chastity and piety. As their conversation deepened, they turned to Narada Muni known for his wisdom and who fared Triloka more than anyone else.
Narada smiled knowingly and said, "Devio, while your devotion is immeasurable, there is one among mortals whose purity and faith shine even above the gods—Anasuya, the wife of Rishi Atri."
Intrigued by Narada's words, the goddesses shared this with their husbands—Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. The Trimurti, curious to see the truth for themselves, decided to test Anasuya's devotion. Disguising themselves as wandering sages, they descended to Earth and arrived at her ashram.
Anasuya, known for her boundless kindness and unwavering faith, welcomed the sages with great hospitality, unaware of their true identities. But their request was unusual—one that sought to challenge her virtue.
The three sages told her that as part of their tradition, they could only accept food from her if she served them unclothed. This was a test unlike any other, meant to see if her chastity and dharma would waver under pressure.
Anasuya, calm and devoted as ever, did not falter. She closed her eyes, meditated on her husband, and with her divine purity, transformed the three sages into infant children. Now, as helpless babies, they no longer had any ill intentions.
When Sage Atri returned home, he instantly recognized the divine presence in his house. Understanding what had happened, he prayed, and the Trimurti regained their original forms. Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, now humbled and in awe, praised Anasuya's unshakable devotion and offered her a boon.
The Trinity's blessing came in an unimaginable form. As a reward for Anasuya's steadfast love and devotion, the three gods—Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva—transformed themselves into infants. Anasuya, with her heart filled with maternal love, nurtured them as her own, offering them the warmth and affection of a mother's embrace for the first time. It was said that this act of pure, selfless love humbled the gods, bringing them closer to the human experience than they had ever been before.
Moved by this unparalleled devotion, the Trimurti bestowed upon the couple a gift beyond compare—children born of their divine power. Each of the three gods imbued a part of themselves into the children that would soon grace the earth.
Soma, the moon god, was born to Anasuya, a reflection of Brahma's divine wisdom and cosmic grace. Dattatreya, a fusion of Vishnu's nurturing compassion and boundless power, was given as a gift to Atri and his wife. Lastly, the fiery Durvasa, known for his temper and immense aesthetic power, was born as a fragment of Shiva's essence.
...
But now, that bond had been shattered. The grief that overwhelmed Atri's heart was a reflection of the tragic reality that even the divine cannot escape fate. His son, Soma had been torn away from him, leaving only an aching emptiness in the space where once there had been life and light. The Rishi's mind raced through the memories of those blissful moments—the days when the gods, humbled by their own experience, had shared their divine power through his beloved children.
"SOMA!!!"
Grief turned to fury. Rishi Atri's chest heaved as he clutched his staff with both hands, his knuckles white with rage. His gaze lifted to Narasimha, and his eyes burned with righteous anger.
"Narasimha!!!"
His voice thundered like a storm, cutting through the chaos. The Rishi's power, honed through centuries of penance, surged to its peak. The air around him crackled as his fury transformed into a binding curse.
"I curse you!" he roared, his voice trembling with divine authority.
"As you have forgotten the balance of the world today, so too shall you forget yourself. One day, your divine nature will fade from your mind, and you will lose the very essence of who you are. You shall wander, lost, in the world you once loved!"
He raised his staff high, the wood glowing with the energy of his resolve. A fiery rope of karmic power burst forth, lashing out at Narasimha with the force of the curse.
The skies trembled, and the celestial realms shuddered as the curse took hold, binding itself to Narasimha with an unbreakable chain of fate.
Rishi Atri's form was flung into the air, pulled helplessly toward Narasimha's gaping, bloodied mouth. Without hesitation, the lion god devoured him whole.
"Raaawwrrrrr!!!"
The roar of Narasimha reverberated through the realms, shaking the very foundation of the heavens. One by one, the Devas and Rishis were swallowed into his massive belly, their fate sealed by the beast's insatiable hunger.
Uh-huh!
Narasimha's scarlet, beastly eyes turned, locking onto Brahma. The sight sent a chill through the creator god, his gaze widening in disbelief. Beside him, Devi Sarasvati's expression faltered, her mouth slightly agape in concern.
"We must leave, quickly!" Brahma urged, his voice steady despite the chaos.
Without another word, Brahma raised his hand, and with a silent prayer, he and Goddess Sarasvati vanished from Brahmaloka, retreating from the horrors unfolding before them.
"Raaawwrrrrr!!!"
Narasimha threw his head back and roared in triumph, his chest thundering as he beat his fists against it in a rhythm that sounded like the beat of a war drum. The sound reverberated across the three worlds, a triumphant declaration of his victory.
The Devas had all been consumed, their struggle futile against his overwhelming might. The question now was:
Who else?
"Nara! Simha!!!"
A familiar roar sliced through the air, interrupting Narasimha's victory cry.
Ouch!
Narasimha recoiled, his neck jerking in surprise. His eyes snapped to the source of the disturbance, and there, in a flash, Sudarshan Chakra whirled toward him, its sparks trailing like a comet's tail.
Before Narasimha could react, the Sudarshan Chakra struck him squarely in the forehead. His beastly eyes widened in shock, and the divine wheel seemed to expand within his gaze, magnifying the pain tenfold. A violent surge of agony coursed through his body as the divine weapon split his forehead, sending sparks flying in all directions.
Roar!!!
Narasimha howled in torment, shaking his head violently to dislodge the assault. His sharp claws lashed out, swiping at the spinning wheel, and with a mighty swipe, he managed to knock the Sudarshan Chakra away.
Clutching his head, Narasimha's fury surged. He shot forward like a streak of light, racing toward the horizon.
"This direction… Kailash!"
Indra's voice rang out, commanding. "Chase!"
The battle was far from over.
---
Chapter 65 Sharabheshvara
Kailash
In a sacred and tranquil realm, the skies stretched endlessly, the clouds as pristine as snow, and the sky mirrored the azure depths of the sea.
Suspended in this celestial expanse stood Mount Kailash, its snowy peaks reaching toward infinity. Vast and eternal, it was the sanctum of ascetics and the abode of the Mahatmas. Here, countless Rishis and seekers followed the path of self-realization, Brahman, and enlightenment, their lives dedicated to ascetic devotion.
Suddenly, a deafening roar shattered the serene atmosphere.
"Raaawwrrrrr!!!"
The thunderous cry of a lion reverberated through the heavens, drawing every eye and heart toward its source.
Rishi Dadhichi emerged from the meditative forest, his tranquil expression giving way to urgency. Clad in a simple orange robe with his chest bare, his determined eyes locked on the approaching figure of Narasimha. The beast tore through the skies, his mane wild, his mouth drooling, and his presence radiating an insatiable hunger for destruction.
"Something is terribly wrong!" Dadhichi exclaimed, his voice steady but filled with dread. He turned to his fellow ascetics. "Go! Inform the ganas at once!"
But before the warning could be delivered to Shiva Ganas, Narasimha landed at the base of Mount Kailash. His colossal form loomed, his feral eyes scanning the holy grounds. He could sense a powerful force—a divine energy—emanating from within. Bloodlust coursed through him, his thoughts consumed by a singular purpose: devour and destroy.
"Raaawwrrrrr!!!"
The beast roared again, advancing with heavy, deliberate steps. His movement ceased abruptly as he glanced down, noticing an ant-sized figure blocking his path.
There stood Rishi Dadhichi, his staff in hand, resolute and unyielding despite the towering menace before him.
Narasimha let out a guttural growl, his leonine eyes blazing with unrestrained wrath. Without a second thought, he raised his massive foot and delivered a brutal kick. The impact sent Dadhichi hurtling through the air, his cry of pain echoing across the sacred mountain.
The sage's body hit the ground with a sickening thud, lifeless but not broken in spirit. Even as his breaths faltered, his lips moved in silent prayer, calling upon the Lord of Kailash.
"O Mahadeva," Dadhichi whispered, his voice barely audible over the howling winds.
The earth quaked beneath the lion's ferocity but then came a sound—a resonating, primal vibration.
At the summit of Mount Kailash, Shiva opened his eyes. His crimson eyes blazed with fury, his grip tightening on the Trishula. The divine weapon trembled in his grasp, and the mountain itself reverberated with his wrath. Each strike of his trident sent waves of destruction cascading across the trilogy.
The rhythm carried by the furious vibrations rippled through the Tri Loka, unleashing chaos. Oceans surged into violent storms, the earth split into gaping chasms, and volcanoes erupted with unrelenting ferocity. Even the distant planets in the cosmic expanse succumbed to Shiva's rage, shattering into fiery fragments.
The cosmos bore witness to an unparalleled truth: Shiva was enraged.
Rishi Dadhichi, a devoted follower of Lord Shiva, had spent countless years in ascetic practice on Mount Kailash, the sacred abode of his lord. His unwavering devotion was legendary, but even his piety was not enough to shield him from the fury of Narasimha, who had descended upon Kailash with violent intent.
The sage was struck down by the enraged Narasimha, his defeat echoing like a thunderclap across the holy mountain. This act of sacrilege awakened Shiva's wrath.
Shiva's crimson eyes blazed with fury, his Trishula trembling in his right hand, sending resonant vibrations through Kailash. The mountain itself seemed to hum with the rhythm of his anger.
Without a word, Shiva reached behind his head with his left hand, pulling a single strand of jet-black hair. With deliberate force, he hurled it to the ground.
"Ha!"
The strand shimmered as it fell, radiating the destructive divinity of Shiva. Upon touching the earth, it transformed into a towering blue giant wreathed in golden light. His wild hair and beard framed a visage of primal ferocity, and a garland of human skulls adorned his neck.
Bhairava.
This was Shiva's incarnation of pure wrath, a form that had once obliterated Prajapati Daksha and now sought to quell the chaos unleashed by Narasimha. Bhairava charged forward, clashing with the half-lion, half-man avatar in a cataclysmic battle.
Explosions tore through the heavens as their struggle shook the Tri Loka, drawing the attention of the divine. Goddess Lakshmi and Parvati appeared, their watchful eyes fixed on the clash of these mighty forces.
Moments later, Brahma and Saraswati arrived, their forms glowing with divine radiance as they stood near Shiva.
"Mahadev," Saraswati began, her voice steady yet urgent, "Narasimha's fury remains unchecked. With every act of destruction, his strength only multiplies. If this continues, and should Bhairava confront him without restraint, the universe itself may face annihilation. Lord Vishnu would not wish for such devastation. Neither a single Deva nor an avatar alone can pacify Narasimha. Only the union of man, beast, and bird may succeed in restoring balance."
Shiva listened in silence, his anger smoldering beneath his calm exterior. Slowly, he raised his hand once more. Another strand of hair was pulled and thrown to the earth.
From this Jatta emerged Sharabheshvara, a formidable incarnation. With the head of a lion atop a human body, four muscular arms, a lion's torso and limbs, and immense bird-like wings that shimmered with divine light, he embodied the fusion of man, beast, and bird.
Bhairava stepped back, bowing respectfully to Sharabheshvara, and vanished from the battlefield, leaving the path clear.
Sharabheshvara spread his wings wide, the golden light of Shiva's essence emanating from his form. With a single powerful flap, he crossed the vast space between himself and Narasimha in an instant. His claws struck with divine precision, pinning Narasimha to the ground.
"Raaawwrrrrr!!!" Narasimha's roar echoed through the Kailash, a sound so powerful that it shook the very foundations of the Tri Loka. The planets trembled, and rivers of molten lava erupted from the cracks in the earth.
Despite the chaos, the Sharabheshvara opened its massive mouth, its fangs gleaming with an otherworldly ferocity. It roared in response, not backing down in the slightest.
A golden light flared behind it, and the figure of Mahadeva, Lord Shiva himself, materialized in the radiance, his presence meant to awaken Narasimha from his bloodlust. But—
"Rawwrrrrr!!!" Narasimha's roar only grew louder, his heart brimming with bloodlust and rage, drowning out all attempts at reason.
"Even if the sky was falling down it cannot wake Vishnu," Brahma muttered, his voice tinged with despair.
"Nath, this is not good!" Sarasvati's voice was filled with concern, her brows furrowing as she observed the growing destruction. Her eyes met Brahma's, worry etching her beautiful features. "If this continues, Narasimha and Sharabheshvara attacks will only grow stronger. Is the world truly going to be destroyed?"
Brahma blinked, his thoughts momentarily distracted by the weight of her words. The possibility of the world's end struck him with an odd sense of panic. If the world is destroyed... will I be forced to create it all over again? Only to watch it crumble again? He shuddered at the thought. No! I can't let that happen!
Shiva stood silent, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, the air around him heavy with his brooding thoughts. Beside him, Parvati was even more bewildered. My brother and my husband... at odds, fighting to the brink of destroying the universe. What can I do now?
Meanwhile, in the vast sea of milk, Goddess Lakshmi watched from afar, her face etched with concern. Her hands were clasped tightly in prayer, her heart reaching out to her husband in the hopes that he would regain control.
"Hari, you must wake up!" Lakshmi whispered urgently, her prayer a silent plea to the heavens.
At that moment, Indra finally arrived on the battlefield. He took one look at the terrifying destruction wreaked by the battle between Narasimha and Sharabheshvara, and his steps faltered. Narasimha had grown stronger, and the sheer force of his presence was overwhelming. Indra, powerful as he was, hesitated to approach the battlefield.
The power of Narasimha could not harm him—no, the true danger lay in the aftermath of Sharabheshvara's attacks. It would be far too humiliating to be knocked down by the aftershocks of another one of those earth-shattering blows.
Indra stood at a distance, watching. But as he did, he realized that the Narasimha had noticed him too.
"Roar!!!" The Narasimha let out a ferocious bellow, like a cornered beast, and in a flash, turned and fled from the Sharabheshvara's grasp.
The Sharabheshvara, ever swift, seized the opportunity to lunge forward. With a powerful motion, it gripped Narasimha's arms, twisted them behind his back, and bound them tightly in a vice-like hold.
Shiva, his eyes narrowed with sharp focus, spoke through the chaos. "Indra, Narasimha cannot harm you. My Sharabheshvara incarnation cannot hold him for much longer. Go now and try to awaken him."
Indra stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape. He glanced from the towering peaks of Kailash to the writhing Narasimha, a look of disbelief crossing his features. He was willing to join the battle, to help subdue the beast, but how was he supposed to know how to awaken Vishnu's presence within Narasimha?
"Awaken him?" Indra questioned, a trace of uncertainty in his voice.
"Go," Shiva's voice urged, firm but laced with urgency. "My avatar cannot do it now. It is up to you."
Indra hesitated but then nodded. He gazed at the furious Narasimha, who was thrashing violently, and slowly began to step forward. The eyes of Shiva, Brahma, Sarasvati, and the devas watched him intently, their gazes heavy with expectation, concern, and silent hope.
As Indra walked toward Narasimha, the roars grew louder, each one more destructive than the last, reverberating across the battlefield like a storm of fury. The very air seemed to vibrate with the force of Narasimha's anger. If they weren't on Kailash, it was likely that the entire mountain range would have erupted in response.
Indra paused, surveying the beast, his gaze sharp and calculating. He moved his eyes from side to side, sensing something, something that was hidden beneath the surface of Narasimha's rage. Then, in a moment of understanding, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Did you forget me so soon?" Indra asked, his voice steady, his confidence slowly rising.
---
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