Chapter 66 Vishnu’s Name Echoes
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"Did you forget me so soon?"
The words echoed in the air, heavy with the weight of certainty.
Narasimha's fury erupted instantly. He bared his teeth, claws extended, struggling against the restraint of the Sharabheshvara. His roar ripped through the atmosphere, the sound waves carrying with them the terrifying power to obliterate everything in their path.
The very air around Kailash trembled, the ground shaking as if it might collapse beneath the force of Narasimha's rage. The force of his roar was so overwhelming that it felt as if the world itself might break apart.
But Indra, shielded by the blessings upon him, remained untouched. The might of Narasimha could not harm him in the slightest.
"You're scared," Indra said, his voice steady with an undercurrent of certainty.
He fixed his gaze on the roaring beast, no longer hesitating. He strode forward, moving closer to the immense figure of Narasimha and the Sharabheshvara. Despite his own comparatively small stature—he looked like little more than an ant before the mighty lion-man—Indra's voice rang out with a quiet confidence.
"Anger comes from fear, and fear comes from the unknown," he declared, his tone unwavering. "You're afraid of me."
His words carried the weight of truth, and for a moment, the roaring Narasimha seemed to falter. The beast's vicious bellow softened as if the weight of those words had struck a chord.
Indra continued, undeterred. "You don't know why you can't hurt me," he said solemnly. "But you're afraid of what you don't understand."
The anger within Narasimha flared anew. The lion's head shook violently, and the force of his struggle sent shockwaves through the battlefield. The Sharabheshvara, though mighty, struggled to maintain its hold.
"No!" Narasimha roared, his mane and beard whipping about in the frenzy of his fury. His bloodshot eyes glared at Indra, and his growl was one of pure, unrestrained rage. He opened his bloody maw, bellowing a threatening challenge.
But Indra saw through him.
With a calm smile, Indra raised a single finger, pointing directly at Narasimha. His voice rang out, slow and deliberate, each word weighted with the authority of one who had seen through the beast's anger.
"Since you want to know," he said, his voice carrying the certainty of someone who understood far more than he let on, "I'll tell you why you can't hurt me."
Narasimha's growls paused as if waiting for the answer, his fury momentarily subdued by curiosity.
Indra leaned forward, eyes gleaming with purpose.
"Because," he said, his voice full of finality, "there's someone above me."
He paused for effect, allowing the words to sink in.
"And just like you can't harm me," Indra continued with a smile, "you can never defeat this person."
At the sound of Indra's words, Narasimha's bloodshot eyes locked onto him with an intensity that could burn through the stone. His bloody mouth gaped open in a furious roar.
"Who is he?!" Narasimha howled, his voice seething with rage that could obliterate everything in its path. His thirst for destruction surged; he wanted nothing more than to tear this man apart, to annihilate everything around him.
Indra stood unshaken, his expression gentle, a serene smile playing on his lips. He spread his arms wide as if embracing the very world itself, welcoming the challenge.
"Vishnu," he said simply.
The name echoed through Kailash, reverberating in the ears of all the great Devas.
"Vishnu! Vishnu! Vishnu!" Indra's voice rang out, carrying the weight of divinity itself.
For a moment, Narasimha froze, his blood-red gaze softening as the fury in his eyes began to fade.
"Ain't that Truth," murmured Lord Shiva, a smile curling on his lips as he nodded approvingly.
Shiva raised his trident gently, causing Kailash to tremble as the destructive music that had filled the air shifted into something more harmonious. What had once been a cacophony of rage became a soothing, auspicious melody, echoing peacefully throughout the land.
The once-chaotic vibrations turned into a rhythm of calm, reverberating across Kailash.
Narasimha, who had been thrashing in his madness, now fell silent, his mighty roar quieted.
Brahma's eyes brightened as he watched, nodding in approval. "As expected... someone who has gleaned something from Vedas," he murmured, understanding the power of the words that had pierced through Narasimha's rage.
Sarasvati watched Indra with a knowing smile, her gaze warm and approving, as a mother might look at a son who had expertly solved a crisis.
Lakshmi, too, exhaled with relief, her eyes glistening with joy as she looked toward Narasimha, her heart at peace.
For a moment, all was quiet.
Then, with a soft, confused roar, Narasimha opened his mouth again, as if unsure of what had just happened. He stood still, dazed on the ground.
A golden light began to emanate from his body, flowing outward like the first rays of spring melting the last remnants of winter's chill. It was a slow process, but a process nonetheless.
However...
Indra chuckled softly, his smile widening. "Lord, let me help you," he said, the playful tone in his voice unmistakable.
He stepped to the side, his posture regal and commanding. With a flick of his wrist, his right hand spread wide, and in an instant, a vajra materialized in his grasp.
The vajra, with its four sharp corners and countless teeth, appeared like a giant hammer in his hand. It blazed with divine brilliance, casting a radiant light that rivaled the sun itself.
"If you dare to eat my brothers," Indra said, his voice steady but laced with power, "I'll give you something you won't forget."
The energy surrounding Indra crackled, and the vajra pulsed with overwhelming force as it glowed brighter, ready to intervene if needed.
Indra seized the vajra, his grip firm and unyielding, and took a powerful stride forward. With a leap that seemed to defy gravity, he soared through the air, his figure illuminated by a brilliance that shone like a thousand suns, crackling with sparks and lightning.
In one fluid motion, he propelled himself higher, leaping over Narasimha's massive form, and flying directly in front of the great lion. The vajra, now enveloped in a storm of thunder and lightning, hummed with untold power, releasing a roar that shook the very foundations of Kailash.
"Wake up!" Indra's voice rang out, commanding and full of divine authority.
With both hands, he raised the vajra high above his head and, with a fierce cry, brought it crashing down onto Narasimha's skull.
Boom!
The impact was like a thunderclap, a deafening clang that echoed across Kailash—resonant, as if a drum had sounded at evening and a bell had tolled at dawn. The ground trembled in response to the sheer force.
Narasimha's massive head jolted slightly, but the lion did not falter.
Indra's hand moved in a blur, slapping the lion's face with divine speed. His armor glowed with intense blue light, the radiance shimmering as it absorbed the destructive energy coursing through Narasimha's body.
Narasimha's body twitched violently as if fighting the very force that sought to calm him.
From the lion's bloodied mouth, a dark, poisonous mist, like the coils of a naga serpent, began to spill out. It slithered through the air, but the divine armor responded in kind. Brilliant light flashed as it absorbed the venom, returning it to the earth from which it came.
Indra's eyes narrowed, watching the deepening blue of Narasimha's face with a solemn focus. The Halahala poison had been absorbed, yet the lion's face remained a stark, unsettling shade of blue—its depth hinting at the lingering corruption.
Boom!
Indra descended from the air with a fluid motion, his feet hitting the earth with a reverberating thud. The golden light surrounding Narasimha continued to intensify, shimmering and pulsating as if the very essence of life was being restored.
From the swirling golden radiance, a shape began to emerge. It took the form of a figure, graceful and regal—the image of Vishnu, the eternal protector of the world. The figure of Vishnu shimmered within the light, a presence that seemed to lift the very atmosphere of Kailash.
Great joy filled the air as the figure of Vishnu solidified, bringing an overwhelming sense of peace and renewal.
Shiva watched the manifestation of Vishnu with a smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Brahma, his gaze fixed upon the newly formed figure, finally let out a sigh of relief.
Sarasvati, her eyes glowing with approval, smiled softly as she gazed at the returning Vishnu, her heart filled with admiration.
The battle was over. The divine balance had been restored.
…
In the Sea of Milk, Goddess Lakshmi stood with a gentle smile gracing her lips. Her beautiful eyes sparkled as she blinked, her white hands pressed delicately against her chest, lost in a sea of thoughts that danced in her heart.
"Nath is finally awake…" she thought, a feeling of warmth and joy flooding her being. "I think I'll pick some stars from the Akasha Ganga and weave them into a bracelet for him. A surprise, just for him."
Her heart swelled with happiness at the thought of it.
Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind signaled the arrival of Garuda. With a graceful flap of his mighty wings, he landed before Goddess Lakshmi, his expression filled with excitement.
"Mother!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with joy. "Are you going to see the Prabhu? I will escort you!"
His voice was full of eager anticipation, clearly as happy as she was to see Vishnu.
Goddess Lakshmi's eyes sparkled playfully, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head. "No need, Garuda," she said gently. "I'll go on my own."
Her words were light, her smile radiant as she walked briskly, her heart fluttering with the thought of the surprise she had planned for Vishnu. She was already imagining the beautiful stars she would pick from the sea and craft into a bracelet—an offering of love for her beloved.
…
Here's the revised version with the requested addition:
Back in Kailash, Vishnu had finally returned, bringing with him a wave of tranquility.
Narasimha, the fierce lion, had regained his sanity. Ugra Narasimha became the peaceful Soumya Narasimha. He opened his mouth wide, and a powerful gust of wind erupted from it, followed by a wave of Devas who had been swallowed in his fury.
Whoosh!
In a spectacular display, many Devas, Rishis, Apsaras, and Gandharvas tumbled out of Narasimha's mouth, each of them looking bewildered and shaken. The darkened air buzzed with their presence, and a murmur of shock and disbelief rippled through the crowd.
Had Narasimha, the incarnation of the Protector, truly regained his sanity?
With reverence, Narasimha slowly clasped his hands together and bowed. "Pranam," he said, his voice steady yet filled with awe.
Vishnu smiled softly at him, his presence as calm and powerful as ever. He raised his hand, pointing toward Narasimha's head.
From it, a ball of sky-blue light—pure and dazzling, like a brilliant diamond—floated into the air. It shimmered brightly, its light casting an icy glow that sparkled like a star.
The Devas and Rishis watched in wonder, their eyes wide with curiosity. What was this light? And what did it mean?
The silence that followed was filled with unspoken questions, but Vishnu remained serene, his smile the only answer they needed.
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Chapter 67 Vajra’s Origin
The sapphire-like light flickered, its brilliance filling the air. Vishnu extended his hand, connecting with the radiant blue orb. He turned his palm upward, and the light hovered above it, glowing with a mysterious energy.
"This," Vishnu said, his voice deep and resonant, "comes from Hiranyakashipu and Narasimha—the combined anger and arrogance of both."
He paused, his gaze firm and resolute. "Now that I have extracted it, I will send it to the Akash Ganga. Let the pure light of the stars cleanse it."
With a flick of his finger, the light shot through the void, racing out of Kailash toward the distant stars that twinkled in the night sky.
The Devas watched in awe, the truth dawning on them.
"So this is what happened," Surya murmured in understanding. "The Lord has returned, and Narasimha has calmed down. But why did the avatar of Vishnu transform into Ugra Narasimha?"
Just then, the presence of Shiva, Brahma, and the Sarasvati materialized before the gathered Devas.
"Pranam to the Mahadev!" the Devas chanted in unison, bowing low in reverence.
"Pranam to Brahmadev!"
"Pranam to the Devi Sarasvati!"
The Devas and Rishis clasped their hands together in respectful prayer, their heads bowed in admiration. Shiva remained silent, walking forward with purpose. The Devas parted in reverence as he made his way to the sage Rishi Dadhichi, who lay on the ground.
"Pranam Mahadev!" Dadhichi called out, his voice tinged with regret. "Lord, my bones are broken. Forgive me for not being able to stand and offer my Pranam."
Rishi Dadhichi raised his head, clasping his hands, a faint sorrow in his eyes. It pained him that his body, broken in service, prevented him from giving his full homage to the Lord.
"Rishi Dadhichi," Shiva spoke gently, his voice warm with compassion. "You were injured while protecting Kailash. I will bless you, and your bones will be indestructible."
With a smile, Shiva raised his right hand.
Whoosh!
Golden light erupted from his palm, cascading down upon Rishi Dadhichi. The light flowed into his body, filling him with a new, radiant vitality. Dadhichi's eyes widened with surprise, and he leaped to his feet, his body infused with divine energy.
"Pranam to the Svarga!" he cried, his voice filled with astonishment and gratitude. He bowed deeply, stamping his feet in joy.
Witnessing this, Indra's heart stirred. He raised his Vajra, watching closely as Rishi Dadhichi stood, marveling at the sage's transformation.
Wait... Indra thought, narrowing his eyes. Isn't Rishi Dadhichi the future Vajra, the weapon I will wield?
Indra blinked, his thoughts swirling like storm clouds over the battlefield. If memory served him correctly, the fate of Svarga had always been shaped by cycles of conflict and betrayal, and many of them had stemmed from his fraught relationship with Tvashtr, the divine craftsman.
Tvashtr, the celestial shaper of forms, was no ordinary artisan. He was the one who had forged Indra's Vajra, the thunderbolt that could shatter mountains, from the bones of the sage Dadhichi. But his influence stretched far beyond craftsmanship. He was the preparer of Soma, the sacred elixir of the devas, and through his daughter, Saranyu, an ancestor of humans. Even so, despite all he had given, despite all he had created, Tvashtr and Indra had never seen eye to eye.
The tension between them had been brewing for an eternity. It all started with the Soma Ras. Tvashtr had feared Indra's hunger for power and had barred him from partaking in a great yajna, keeping the divine elixir from his reach. But Indra had never been one to accept denial. He had stormed the sacred rites, his presence like a tempest, and stolen the Soma Ras with the sheer audacity that only the king of the Devas could possess. The golden liquid had burned down his throat, filling him with power, with divinity, with an undeniable high. And in that moment, he had felt unstoppable.
But the theft had been the spark that set their enmity ablaze.
It was Vishvarupa, Tvashtr's son, who had escalated things further. Vishvarupa, the three-headed priest, had served the Devas, chanting mantras, offering oblations, and guiding their yajnas. But even as he poured Soma for them, he whispered prayers for the Asuras—his mother's kin, his secret allegiance. When Indra learned the truth, his fury had been absolute.
There had been no trial. No deliberation. No mercy.
With a single strike of the Vajra, Vishvarupa's three heads had been severed from his shoulders, each one cursed to take a new form—one as a sparrow, one as a partridge, and the last as a pigeon. The ground had been soaked in divine blood, and with it, Indra had sealed his fate.
The weight of Brahma-hatya descended upon him like a great darkness. Even the heavens recoiled from him. The air had turned heavy, the cosmic balance disturbed by his act. And so, Indra had fled, abandoning his throne, seeking penance for a crime the cosmos would not forgive so easily.
But Tvashtr had not forgiven either.
Enraged at the death of his son, he had called upon his power, shaping his vengeance with his own hands. With fire and mantra, with wrath and sorrow, he had forged a new being—one that would crush Indra, that would erase him from the heavens.
Vritra.
A beast of impossible strength, a serpent vast enough to coil around the world, a demon whose very existence defied the Devas. He had swallowed the celestial waters, choking the world in drought. The Devas had trembled before him, powerless, broken.
Indra, still reeling from his self-imposed exile, had been helpless. For the first time, the king of the Devas had been defeated.
But fate had a way of favoring the bold.
Tvashtr had made a single mistake—a flaw, so small, so subtle, buried within the very incantation that had birthed Vritra. The words that should have made the demon invincible had instead left him vulnerable, just enough for Indra to find his opening. Guided by Vishnu's wisdom, wielding the Vajra once more, he had struck down Vritra, reclaiming his throne and his honor.
The memory of this conflict lingered in Indra's mind, shaping his thoughts about the present and future. His grip on the Vajra tightened as he reflected on the recurring theme of betrayal and vengeance.
As his mind continued to spiral, Indra quickly shook his head, dismissing these thoughts. That's all in the future, he reminded himself. Tvashtr won't cause trouble... not yet, at least.
He let out a deep breath. And if anything happens, I'll be ready. If I train hard enough, Vritra won't be able to touch me. At worst, I'll handle whatever comes my way, and the Trimurti will have my back.
Indra's gaze shifted to Rishi Dadhichi, who stood nearby. I won't let anyone else make unnecessary sacrifices, he resolved. If things go awry, the Trimurti will handle it, but I'll be prepared to run if I need to.
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, the Narasimha, still standing at a distance, raised his hands in prayer and bowed his head.
Shiva and Brahma nodded in acknowledgment.
Slowly, the Narasimha turned around, his hands clasped together as he looked directly at Indra. Although the poison of Halahala had been purged from his body, the blue tinge still lingered on his lion-like face.
"Pranam Indra!" Narasimha's voice was filled with reverence. "It was your wisdom and strength that calmed me from my rage and protected the entire world. I thank you, great King of Svarga!"
His eyes sparkled with gratitude as he looked up at Indra, his hands still pressed in prayer.
Indra cleared his throat, his chest swelling with pride despite himself. He coughed twice to hide his discomfort. "You're welcome. It's my duty as the King of Svarga," he said with a modest wave.
The Narasimha's slender beard quivered, his expression softening with emotion. "The King of Svarga is so kind."
Indra couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment at the praise, but he kept his composure, determined not to show any weakness. Still, the weight of Narasimha's gratitude hung in the air, and for a brief moment, Indra felt a deep sense of pride.
He clasped his hands together once more and saluted Indra, then transformed into a ray of golden light, soaring through the air before merging into the body of Vishnu, the protector of the world.
The doomsday disaster was finally resolved, and the Devas, filled with relief, celebrated their newfound peace.
Brihaspati, deep in thought, listened intently to the Lord's recounting of the events that had just unfolded. A look of regret crossed his face, for he lamented that he had no eyes outside his body and could not witness the scene firsthand.
He picked up his pen and began to write in the "Life of Indra."
"The Narasimha became enraged, and it was the King of Svarga, with his great wisdom and power, who awakened Narasimha from his fury. Together, they defeated Hiranyakashipu. Thus, they can be called the ones who defeated Hiranyakashipu. And since Narasimha expelled the Devas, leaving his lion's face still blue, he may be referred to as the Green-Faced Lord."
The sage then began to describe Indra. "The King of Svarga, also part of the group that defeated Hiranyakashipu, used his immense wisdom and strength, holding the vajra in his hand, to calm the enraged Narasimha."
He paused, pondering what title to bestow upon Indra.
Rishi Brihaspati recalled the marks on Narasimha's forehead and an idea suddenly flashed through his mind.
"I've got it!"
Quickly, Brihaspati picked up his pen again.
"The King of Svarga, with great wisdom, struck the Narasimha on the head with his vajra, awakening the furious lion-headed Narasimha. Hence, he may be called the 'Awakener of Furious.'"
Rishi Brihaspati continued with a grin, writing, "In future generations, when one encounters an angry person, they may use weapons such as sticks, or hammers to strike their heads and shout at them to awaken their sanity."
This event was witnessed by the great Brihaspati himself, and he assured that there was no falsehood in his words.
Satisfied with his work, Rishi Brihaspati smiled contentedly.
Meanwhile, Sage Rishi Atri arrived at Vishnu's side, his son Soma in tow.
"Lord Vishnu!" Rishi Atri exclaimed, his face etched with regret. "I apologize for the anger I expressed earlier and the curse I laid upon you."
Clasping his hands together, Rishi Atri knelt before Vishnu, his heart heavy with remorse.
Vishnu smiled warmly, raising a hand to gently lift Rishi Atri to his feet. "There is no need to worry," he said, his voice soothing. "All of this is part of karmic consequence. Everything in the world is bound by karma. This, too, is part of the balance that maintains the world. I accept your curse."
His smile never faltered.
"As this disaster has passed and my Vaikuntha has been newly restored, why don't we all gather there? Come, let us meet and celebrate in Vaikuntha."
Vishnu opened his arms in invitation, a warm gesture to the Devas, beckoning them to come together in the serene realm of Vaikuntha.
...
Amidst the vast expanse of the starry sky, Goddess Lakshmi floated gracefully, her hands gently plucking stars as if they were delicate jewels.
Suddenly, a spark of brilliance caught her attention. Her eyes, radiant and full of wonder, blinked in surprise. In the corner of her gaze, she caught a glimpse of a dazzling, sapphire-like light that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.
"Huh?" she murmured, her breath catching.
"So beautiful..." she whispered, captivated by the ethereal light.
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Chapter 68 Forgotten Son of Shiva
The Akash Ganga stretched out in a deep blue, a sea of stars shimmering like countless diamonds scattered across the heavens. Each star gleamed with its dazzling brilliance, releasing waves of pure, radiant energy that seemed to cleanse the air and renew all living things.
A cluster of blue light flickered, slowly fading into the vastness.
"How strange..."
"Where did that blue sapphire go?"
Goddess Lakshmi's golden sari fluttered as she blinked her delicate eyes, her gaze darting in every direction, searching for the disappearing starlight. She had never seen a star so stunningly blue and unique. It would make a beautiful addition to a bracelet!
She swept her gaze across the sky, unaware that a faint blue aura—almost invisible and on the verge of vanishing—drifted through the air, like a delicate silk ribbon, and gently entered her elegant back.
"What a pity… I can't find it."
Her voice held a soft note of regret. "Only such a beautiful star would be worthy of my best husband in the world!"
With a disappointed shake of her head, her flawless face reflected her dismay.
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At the edge of the river, Rishi Shukracharya, draped in his flowing white kaashaya, walked slowly, the snake-shaped staff in his hand tapping the earth with each deliberate step. Beside him walked Samhrāda, a young man of average appearance, following in silence.
"Hiranyakashipu is dead too," Rishi Shukracharya spoke slowly, his voice filled with thought.
In the past few hundred years, he had watched as Hiranyakashipu grew more stubborn, nearly mad with his obsession. Eventually, Shukracharya distanced himself from the Asura king, choosing to teach Andhaka and Samhrāda instead.
As for why he hadn't chosen Prahlada, Hiranyakashipu's son—well, that was a matter understood only by those who knew the ways of the world. Prahlada was a devout follower of Vishnu, and Shukracharya, with his allegiances, could never have shared a bond with him.
He is the teacher of Asuras. He only guides an Asura King as a father would guide their children—such differing beliefs cannot be reconciled.
The two of them came to a stop and gazed toward the center of the river.
The river raged, its waves crashing in a rhythmic fury. Foam billowed upward endlessly, only to be consumed by the shore beneath their feet.
Amid the chaos, Andhaka stood, his eyes covered with a red cloth, his body balanced in the independent stance of a golden rooster, one foot raised as he performed his penance.
"Om Namo Brahmane Namah!"
"Om Namo Brahmane Namah!" he chanted in devotion, his voice echoing across the rolling waters.
…
The faint voice continued to echo from Andhaka's lips, carrying a tone of piety and unwavering confidence. It seemed to stretch on endlessly, as though it could persist forever.
"Teacher, brother… he has been meditating here for seven hundred years. Do you think his hard work will truly bear fruit?" Samhrāda asked, doubt clouding his expression.
Rishi Shukracharya focused his gaze, his eyes steady, and nodded solemnly.
"Don't question your brother's devotion," he said, his voice firm. "Though Andhaka seems to be blind to most, the power hidden within his eyes is extraordinary—far darker and more potent than the golden eyes of Hiranyakashipu. Once this power awakens, it will surpass even that of his father!"
"If you add the blessing of Trimurti Brahma, your eldest brother will have the strength to rule over the entire Tri-Loka."
Samhrāda's eyes widened with disbelief. He couldn't hide the skepticism on his face.
"Is that so?" he muttered, tilting his head in thought.
In his worldview, his father, Hiranyakashipu, and his uncle, Hiranyaksha, were considered the most formidable Asuras to ever walk the earth. Their power was terrifying, their boons incomprehensible. Samhrāda had grown up hearing of their strength, and in the future, few Asuras could hope to rival them. But now, his teacher Shukracharya himself was claiming that his uncle's adopted son—Andhaka, the child he picked in the forest—held a power even greater than Hiranyaksha's. To say Samhrāda was doubtful was an understatement.
"You don't understand yet, and that's to be expected," Rishi Shukracharya said, his voice filled with patience. "When Andhaka was born, his very existence was tied to the forces of darkness and divine power."
"This is why he is called 'Andhaka,' for he was born blind—he embodies the concept of ignorance and obscurity."
Samhrāda listened, intrigued but still hesitant.
"Andhaka's connection to the divine runs deeper than you realize," Shukracharya continued, his gaze fixed on Andhaka, still standing in penance. "He is not merely a product of darkness—his origins are tied to Lord Shiva himself."
Samhrāda's eyes widened in shock. Andhaka... connected to Shiva?
Through meditation and divine wisdom, Shukracharya had learned the events of that fateful day—the day Andhaka was born.
It was perhaps fate's nexus. Parvati, the beloved wife of Lord Shiva, playfully covered Shiva's eyes, plunging the cosmos into darkness. The balance of the universe was disrupted, and from Shiva's forehead, a single drop of sweat fell to the earth. This divine essence, combined with the primordial energy of the earth, gave birth to a being.
That being was Andhaka. Born blind, his name—Andhaka—symbolized his inherent connection to darkness and ignorance. Though his origins were tied to Tridev and Tridevi, he was later handed over to Hiranyaksha who raised him as his son.
Thus, Andhaka, though born of Shiva's essence, grew up among the Asuras, his blindness becoming both a literal and symbolic mark of his life.
"Origin is important," Shukracharya said slowly, his voice heavy with meaning. "But what matters more is his cunning. It is this, his shrewdness, that will enable him to contend with the King of Svarga."
The master's eyes shone with an understanding that went beyond mere knowledge.
He had already seen the path ahead.
Indra was no longer just powerful—he was also shrewd. He and Hiranyakashipu had once been deceived, leading to the return of the legions to Patalaloka and allowing the Devas to regain their foothold. Only Asuras who were cunning enough, who possessed the wisdom to outthink the Devas, stood a chance against the King of Svarga.
As Rishi Shukracharya spoke these words, his gaze shifted, and he turned to look at Samhrāda.
"I, too, will perform penance," he said. "You, however, must remain vigilant and watch over us so nobody tries to disturb our penance."
Samhrāda furrowed his brow, confusion evident on his face. "Teacher, the patala is leaderless now—this is the time when we need you the most!"
Rishi Shukracharya's expression remained unreadable, his voice cool and distant. "The Devas possess the Amrita—the nectar of immortality. If we continue this to wage war against them, the Asuras will only die faster."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "I will perform penance to Shiva and seek the resurrection spell. Only then can the Asuras truly challenge the Devas."
The advantage of the Amrita was overwhelming. As long as the Devas possessed it, they could not be slain. Even with Andhaka's power, the Asuras could not kill a deva. In time, the Devas would always find a way to turn the war in their favor.
Samhrāda fell silent, the weight of his teacher's words sinking in. The idea of resurrection was far more enticing than continuing to fight an unwinnable war.
"Next, you will assist Prahlada," Shukracharya continued, his voice firm. "Help him guide the Asuras to recuperate and prepare for Andhaka's return, as well as mine."
Rishi Shukracharya paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if something had just occurred to him.
"Ah, yes, Puloman," he muttered to himself. "But Prahlada is a legitimate heir, despite his faith in Vishnu, still holds some strength. With the support of the Asura generals, I have no concerns about Puloman's scheming."
Shukracharya's lips twisted into a faint, knowing smile. "Even if Puloman seizes the throne, it will be of no consequence. He may think himself wise, but his impatience and refusal to practice asceticism render him powerless. He is nothing to fear."
With that, Rishi Shukracharya turned his attention back to his meditation, already deep in thought about the future and the path ahead.
"There's nothing more to say. Let's go."
Rishi Shukracharya took a firm step forward, heading into the depths of the earth, ready to begin his penance.
"Thank you, teacher, for your guidance." Samhrāda clasped his hands together, bowing slightly in respect to Shukracharya's retreating figure.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of Shukracharya's footsteps echoed as he descended deeper into the earth. His journey took him across molten lava, each step deliberate and measured, as though the heat of the world itself was nothing more than a passing breeze to him.
This was no ordinary Asura. This Danava was vast and imposing, with the unmistakable form of Hayagriva, the Danava, known for his horse-headed appearance, and a massive battle ax was lodged in the magma, its blade pointing upward. The horse-headed Asura stood balanced on one foot atop the ax's blade, his hands raised toward the skies, praising the name of the Primordial Goddess Mahadevi Shakti.
"Hayagriva?!" Shukracharya muttered under his breath, recognizing the figure immediately.
The legendary asura, the one who had once terrorized the realms, was still alive—his presence here, a symbol of the past, now rearing its head once again.
---
Chapter 69 Silent War of Penance
"Hayagriva?!" Shukracharya whispered, his voice heavy with disbelief, the words almost caught in his throat.
"He lives…" he murmured again, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto the figure in the distance.
But Hayagriva was not alone.
Flanking him were two other Asuras, their forms equally imposing, their focus unwavering. Short and stocky, they bore the marks of relentless devotion: wild, unkempt hair framed their weathered faces, and their bodies were streaked with a pale layer of white dust that clung to their skin like armor. Their black battle-worn armor seemed to fuse with the grime, the scars of countless battles etched into every surface.
Madhu and Kaitabha—names whispered with caution and fear—stood beside Hayagriva. The two had been legends of their own, known for their cunning and brute force, now united in a shared purpose.
The trio stood in perfect alignment, their feet firmly planted on the blade of a massive battle-ax driven into the earth. The heat of the molten sky bore down on them, yet they remained resolute, their postures unyielding.
"Ōm āim hrīm śrīm klīm!" Their voices rang out in unison, deep and resonant, carrying the weight of their devotion.
Again, they chanted: "Ōm āim hrīm śrīm klīm!"
Their words reverberated through the barren land, a powerful invocation to the goddess they sought to appease. Sweat dripped down their faces, mixing with the dirt and grime, yet their focus remained unbroken.
Shukracharya's fists clenched at his sides, his mind racing. Hayagriva's return alone was alarming, but to see him joined by Madhu and Kaitabha—a trio of titanic strength, origin, and penance—sent a shiver through his being. Under the molten sky, the penance of the Asuras cast a shadow that would not be ignored.
...
The sounds of prayers echoed in rhythmic succession, each one rising into the air with devotion. Though the scene before him was peculiar, it failed to draw the attention of Rishi Shukracharya. What truly caught his eye, however, were the two Asuras coated in white dirt, their bodies radiating a powerful aura that seemed unmistakably tied to Vishnu.
It was as if these two Asuras had been soaked in the very essence of Vishnu. From a distance, the presence they exuded felt off-putting to Shukracharya, an unsettling aura that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Hmph!" he scoffed under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "These two Asuras' origin and karma must be closely tied to Vishnu. I can only hope their penance fails, or better yet, that the Indra puts an end to them."
Shukracharya muttered this silently, a curse under his breath before his face twisted in disgust. He quickened his pace, eager to distance himself from the troublesome pair. The last thing he wanted was to cross paths with them.
As he walked, he made his way deeper into the earth, until he reached the heart of the fiery chasm. The ground beneath him was scorched, molten magma flowing like rivers of flame, and the air thick with the pungent stench of sulfur.
Taking a deep breath of the thick, acrid smoke, Shukracharya allowed himself a moment of calm before he floated into the air. His body gradually turned upside down, his head facing the ground, as he hovered above the blazing magma. The black smoke billowed upward, swirling in the heat, yet he welcomed it, unfazed.
With his hands pressed together beneath his head, he caught the sweat that trickled from his body.
Drip. Drip.
The sweat fell, gathering in his hands as he performed his penance. His posture, suspended in the air amidst the smoke and fire, was a testament to his discipline—an ascetic practice honed through countless years of devotion. Others could endure such trials, but none could match the grace and precision of his form.
Shukracharya took a deep, steadying breath and turned his focus inward, allowing the divine presence of Lord Shiva to fill his thoughts.
"Om Namah Shivaya," he whispered, his voice a low, reverent murmur as he continued his meditation, undisturbed by the chaos around him.
…
On the other side, in Svarga, a new era dawned.
With Hiranyakashipu's complete elimination, Svarga was finally reclaimed by the Devas. The long struggle had come to an end, and the celestial realm was once again in their hands.
However, the devastation caused by Narasimha's rampage had left Svarga in ruins. The Asura strongholds had been utterly destroyed, their once mighty structures now little more than smoldering wreckage. There was no need for the Devas to take up tools to tear them down; all that was left to do was clean up the remnants.
The air was filled with a sense of relief and jubilation.
"Congratulations, everyone!" The celebrations began to echo through the celestial realm.
Amravati and many other grand cities, once nestled in the Brahma Loka, had now returned to Svarga, their radiant light restoring the former glory of the Devas' home.
"Eh!" Agni put his hands on his hips and sighed, a small frown tugging at his lips. "After all this time in Brahma Loka, I'm still not quite used to being back here."
Years spent in Brahma Loka had softened their attachment to Svarga, and now, returning felt strange, almost unsettling.
"Yes, I'm with you on that," Vayu added, his tone echoing Agni's sentiment.
"Indeed," Varuna nodded in agreement.
Indra, standing nearby, blinked in surprise and glanced at them curiously. "Have you all really moved back to your cities to Svarga?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes!" came the unanimous response from Surya, Agni, Vayu, and Varuna.
Indra's gaze flickered over them in confusion. "Am I the only one who still has a palace in Brahma Loka? Maybe I'll stay there from time to time in the future."
"Didn't you prepare for this?" Indra added, his surprise deepening. He had never imagined that his fellow devas had left behind their homes in Svarga for the comfort of Brahma Loka.
He chuckled lightly, adding, "With so many Asuras still out there, and some as powerful as Hiranyakashipu, I thought it prudent to have a place to retreat to. If things ever go south again, I'll just head straight to Brahma Loka, and—" he stopped, raising his hands with a shrug, "—save myself the trouble of moving. The Devas have been beaten so many times, haven't we thought of being prepared for a rainy day?"
In an instant, his words left the Devas frozen, wide-eyed, and stunned. Indra's nonchalant suggestion had caught them completely off guard. The thought of retreating, of having a backup plan in place, was something they had not considered in their celebrations. The silence that followed spoke volumes about their surprise.
Surya frowned, his brow furrowing as he clenched his right fist and struck it against the palm of his left hand. Agni shook his head in disbelief, his eyes widening in realization. Vayu parted his lips, surprised at the idea, while Varuna turned his head with a look of regret.
No wonder Indra had been chosen as the God of Svarga!
Why hadn't they thought of this?
"Is it possible to move there now?" Varuna asked, breaking the silence.
The Devas exchanged uncertain glances.
After all, Brahma Loka was not their true home, and the idea of retreating there now, at this time, felt a bit... unsightly.
"We need to find a deva who's closer to Lord Brahma," Surya said slowly, as a new thought crossed his mind.
"Soma! Soma would be perfect!" Agni's eyes lit up as he spoke. Soma, he can be considered grandson of Brahma-pita as his father is one of the Saptarishi, Atri. If we ask him, he could move a palace to Brahma Loka for us."
It was a reminder of the time when the Trimurti had tested Rishi Atri's wife's faithfulness and given her three children. Soma had been one of their boons, symbolizing the boon born from the power of Brahma's boon himself.
"Exactly! Agni, you've hit the nail on the head!" Vayu's face brightened, a genuine smile spreading across his features. "If Soma takes us there, I'm sure Lord Brahma won't object. After all, we've lived in Brahma Loka for so many years. Keeping a few more palaces there shouldn't be an issue."
"That's the truth," Varuna agreed, nodding thoughtfully.
…
Time flew by.
The Gandharvas, full of enthusiasm, were hard at work renovating temples across Svarga. The Devas, too, were preparing for the grand occasion. Dressed in golden and silver attire, their bodies glowing with precious light and their divine power radiating brilliantly, they were getting ready to depart for Vaikuntha to attend the Lord's banquet. However, before they could set off, there was one task they had to complete first.
They made their way to the Nandana Garden to address a pressing matter.
The atmosphere in the garden was serene. The air was fresh with the scent of flowers, and the lush green Bodhi trees swayed gently in the breeze. The sky was a clear blue, and the lake water rippled softly as birds chirped joyfully from the treetops. It was a scene of pure natural beauty.
Indra, leaning casually against the trunk of a Bodhi tree, put his hands behind his head and stretched lazily. A yawn escaped his lips, and for a brief moment, he felt the weight of sleep pulling at him.
"Hahu~" Indra murmured, settling in comfortably. "It's the perfect time for a nap."
The other Devas froze in shock, their expressions shifting as they took in the sight. They couldn't believe their eyes.
"Why!" Agni gasped, stepping forward, eyes wide with disbelief. "No way! Is Indra going to skip the Lord's banquet and keep training?"
Swallowing nervously, Agni raised his hand, trying to intervene. "Lord Indra, let's go! This is a rare opportunity to enjoy the beauty of Vaikuntha."
Indra lazily lifted his eyelids and stretched his arms. With a glance at the God of Fire, he replied, "I won't go. I said I'm going to focus on my penance next. There's no need for me to attend a party right now."
Indra was resolute. He was already mentally preparing himself for another intense round of ascetic practices. The banquet was simply unnecessary.
"I won't go," he declared firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
But Vayu wasn't giving up so easily. With a smile, he tried again. "King of Svarga, are you truly not coming? This is the Lord's gathering. We haven't seen Vaikuntha yet!"
Indra waved his hand dismissively. "It's not interesting. I'd rather practice."
Vayu scratched his head, his face twisted in exasperation. "But, if you're not going and are going to do another penance, then who will bring the rain to the Bhuloka?"
Indra raised an eyebrow, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "Didn't I do it just fine before? Airavata can manage."
At the mention of Airavata, Indra glanced toward the lake, scanning the surface. "By the way, where's my dear Airavata?"
Suddenly, a white shadow shot up from the water with a mighty splash, sending waves rippling across the lake. The figure sped off into the distance, leaving them in its wake. It was Airavata, Indra's elephant, charging ahead without a second thought.
---
Chapter 70 Airavata’s Destiny
"Airavata," Indra tilted his head, his eyes widening in surprise as he watched the white shadow darting across the lake. Wasn't that his Airavata? Why was it running so fast?
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, then looked again, this time with greater scrutiny. There was no mistake. It was indeed Airavata.
A frown creased Indra's face as he stood up from beneath the Bodhi tree. His mood shifted from surprise to seriousness. Without hesitation, he called out to the distant figure in the lake.
"Airavata!!!"
The name echoed through the forest, reverberating against the trees. The voice of the King of Svarga carried far, his command ringing through the air.
The Devas exchanged confused glances, all turning to look at the lake. The powerful sound of Indra's voice lingered, the echoes still vibrating in the air as they reached the ears of the little elephant.
In response, Airavata dipped his head, ears folding tightly against his head in a futile attempt to block out the sound. But it was no use—the call had reached him.
With a frustrated grunt, the elephant's trunk shot out of the water. He trumpeted loudly, the sound filled with indignation. Rising from the lake, he shook the water off his massive body, stomping across the shore, his movements heavy with embarrassment as he approached Indra.
Indra watched with a sigh, a look of disappointment creeping across his face. "What a disappointment," he muttered, shaking his head. "You're still young. How can you run away from work?"
Reaching up, Indra patted the middle head of Airavata gently, the gesture a mixture of affection and reprimand. Then, with a small grin, he rubbed his hands together and stretched them out in front of him.
A brilliant flash of golden light illuminated the area as two maces materialized in his hands. Indra tested their weight, nodding in satisfaction before turning his gaze back to Airavata.
"I know you're tired," he said with a knowing smile. "But don't complain just yet."
With a flourish, he handed the two maces to the giant elephant, slipping them into the trunks of Airavata's twin heads on either side. The maces glowed with divine power, each infused with an ancient, potent energy.
"These are the Vrista and Drista," Indra explained, his tone rich with pride. "These weapons are now yours. It is your mission to protect the human world, maintain peace, and bring rain and dew to the lands. A glorious task, indeed."
Indra stepped back, admiring his work as the maces settled into place on Airavata's mighty form. He looked at the elephant, then gave a nod of approval.
The next moment, another flash of light appeared in Indra's hand.
A seven-colored longbow materialized, shimmering with divine brilliance.
"This is Indra's Dhanush—the symbol of the rainbow!" he announced proudly. "Airavata, imagine this: every time it rains, you can use this bow to shoot into the sky, and a rainbow of seven colors will descend. You'll ride across the rainbow bridge, slowly passing over it."
Indra's voice was full of awe as he described the vision. "How beautiful! How sacred! Can you imagine how many worshippers will be captivated by you?"
He raised the divine bow high, letting the faint rainbow light dance across the air. The seven colors swirled in a dazzling display, their brilliance almost blinding as they shimmered before Airavata's eyes.
As Indra spoke, he moved the bow toward the elephant's head. With a playful yet tender motion, he gently grabbed Airavata's trunk and draped it across the bow, urging the elephant to lift his head.
Airavata obeyed, his large eyes sparkling with wonder. The elephant's mouth hung open slightly, and a line of clear saliva dripped down as he envisioned the glorious scene Indra painted for him.
"My glory be with you," Indra said softly, his voice full of reverence as he stroked the elephant's head, a solemn look on his face.
The Devas stared in awe, their eyes wide in shock.
"This cute elephant is going to be charmed out of laziness," Varuna whispered in disbelief. "Could it be that Airavata is about to replace Indra and bring rain once again?"
A thoughtful silence filled the air. But then, a new thought struck.
If Indra's mount, Airavata, worked so hard, could their mounts be given the same treatment? Varuna fell into deep thought, considering the possibilities.
Vayu sighed suddenly, clearly frustrated. "I am jealous of Indra! Why doesn't my mount, Gazelle, maintain the wind like Airavata does?" He sounded displeased, his usual cheeriness gone.
Agni also pursed his lips, a resigned sigh escaping him. "My sheep can't replace me either," he muttered under his breath, clearly dissatisfied with his mount's inability to match Airavata's greatness.
Surya blinked, his eyes sparkling with divine light as he glanced at the Devas around him. The thoughts swirled in his mind, bringing him back to the time when he had been devoured by the mighty Narasimha. He couldn't help but wonder if his divine horses had been stronger, if they had more power, perhaps he could have escaped.
Surya clenched his fists in frustration. "I just hate the lack of horsepower!" He shook his head, determination hardening in his features. "The mounts don't run fast enough! I'll send my divine horses to Vaikuntha to train under Garuda. It must become the fastest of them all!"
His words hung in the air, and the Devas turned to look at one another, their eyes wide with surprise. The idea seemed to spark something in their minds as if they had stumbled upon a new path.
Indra's gaze fixed on Surya, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Wait a moment... Surya, you are a genius!
A brilliant smile spread across Indra's face. "What a brilliant idea!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "If Airavata goes to hard penance and gains the blessing to enhance his ability to bring rain, then Airavata won't have to work overtime for me. I'll retire from the task entirely!"
Indra's grin widened as he imagined the possibilities. When the time comes, I can continue to penance hard if I feel like it, or simply enjoy my life whenever I want.
"One year of hard work, one year of rest—repeat, endlessly!" Indra exclaimed.
"Let's go!" he declared with renewed energy. "We'll go to Vaikuntha to send them off for their penance!"
He was already excited about the prospect of resting while Airavata worked, and now it seemed like his own chance to focus on his training would come soon enough.
With that, Indra turned to the Devas, calling them to action. One by one, they mounted their steeds and set off together toward Vaikuntha, a synchronized force in motion.
Suddenly, the sky was streaked with light.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Five brilliant beams of light shot through the sky, each trailing behind a divine mount. They passed like white horses in the void, racing across the vast expanse of the human world before entering the Kshira Sagara.
The waves of the Kshira Sagara roiled beneath them, crashing violently against one another.
"I, Indra, have returned!" Indra called out, his voice rich with mirth, as the Devas continued their swift journey.
The incident of Samundra Manthan of Kshira Sagara is still vivid in my mind. The memory is always before my eyes, and the haunting image of Hiranyaksha never fades from my thoughts. But that being, that force, is completely gone. Gone, never to be seen again.
Whoosh!
As Indra approached the Kshira Sagara, the sight of the vast, black waves struck him. They were endless, bottomless, stretching out into an infinite darkness. But at the farthest point, amidst the shadows, a golden light shimmered, like the rising sun, casting a brilliant glow that seemed to promise something magnificent.
Without hesitation, Indra and the Devas moved in unison, flying toward Vaikuntha, the abode of Vishnu and Lakshmi that lay just ahead of them.
The gates of Vaikuntha stood tall, adorned with golden rings that gleamed in the distant light. These gates, connected in a continuous series, led deep into the heart of Vaikuntha. Everywhere they looked, there was green grass, flowers in full bloom, and lotus blossoms floating in the air. Jewels dangled from every surface, their radiance reflecting the eternal brilliance that filled the sacred city, which seemed as if it would never crumble.
"Finally, we've arrived!" Indra murmured, his heart stirring with a sense of awe. His eyes roamed over the beautiful scenery, and he couldn't help but sigh in wonder. "Svarga is rich and beautiful, but Vaikuntha... Vaikuntha is even more so."
"Truly magnificent!" Surya adjusted his crown and looked around, his voice filled with admiration.
Vayu and Agni shared smiles as they too gazed at the breathtaking surroundings.
"It's so beautiful," Vayu said with a deep breath, clearly moved.
Varuna, ever stoic, couldn't hide his amazement either. "Indeed," he murmured, his gaze lost in the splendor.
Indra stood straighter, a satisfied smile on his face, and strode forward with long, purposeful steps. The Devas had passed through the thousand-layered golden gates of Vaikuntha and now stood before a lush, serene garden. Green grass stretched beneath their feet, lotuses bloomed in vibrant colors, and majestic trees rose high, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze.
However, as they ventured deeper into the garden, their attention was drawn to a gathering at its heart. A group of revered figures stood there—Brahma, Sarasvati, and many revered Rishis—but it was not them that captured the Devas' gaze.
No, it was two goddesses, the most enchanting and beautiful beings in all of Vaikuntha. Their radiance outshone everything around them, captivating the gaze of Devas with their sheer divinity and grace.
The woman on the left possessed a face of unmatched beauty, adorned with a crown of rubies that gleamed brilliantly in the light. Her luxurious golden and crimson gown clung to her divine form, lavishly decorated with treasures as if all the wealth and splendor of the world were embodied in her alone. It could be none other than Goddess Lakshmi, the embodiment of fortune and grace.
To the right stood another vision of divine perfection. Her face, as luminous as moonlight, radiated nobility. Her presence was flawless, her skin glowing with a holy brilliance that seemed to emanate from the very core of the cosmos. Her eyes—vast and deep like the universe itself—held a penetrating gaze, watching all with a profound compassion. This, too, could be none other than Goddess Parvati, the wife of Lord Shiva.
In a quiet corner, Vishnu and Mahadeva stood observing, their expressions speaking volumes. The great Protector of the World appeared helpless, his usual composure slipping in the face of the unfolding scene. Beside him, the terrifying Destroyer remained silent, his gaze fixed yet unreadable. It seemed there was little they could do to mediate between their wives.
A tense silence filled the air, thick with unspoken energy. Then, with a sudden flare, the two Devis locked eyes. Their gazes clashed like a thunderclap—fiery, intense, crackling with divine power. The very air between them shimmered, charged with an impending cosmic storm, the tension mounting with each passing moment. This was no mere quarrel; it was a clash of Shakti, a dispute of goddesses that could alter the very balance of the cosmos.
From his celestial throne, Indra observed with keen interest. His lightning-like eyes flickered between the two Mahadevis, and a knowing smile played on his lips. Conflicts among gods were not unheard of, but a confrontation between Devis, especially of such magnitude, was a rare and formidable sight.
"Now this is something that is going to be remembered!" Indra mused, his anticipation rising. Even he, the wielder of Vajra, dared not intervene in a battle of Adi-Shakti's manifestations. This would be a divine struggle unlike any other.
---
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