Chapter 77 King of Svarga’s Moment
The Vedas glowed with a radiant golden light, casting an ethereal glow that filled the space with an aura of profound wisdom. Brahma's serene gaze lingered on the sacred texts, his hand unfurling with deliberate grace as the ancient scrolls drifted upward, shimmering with a brilliance that seemed to carry the weight of all divine knowledge.
A smile, full of timeless satisfaction, touched his lips as the Vedas ascended into the Sky. Their luminous presence was not just a sight, but a living embodiment of enlightenment itself. The world seemed to hold its breath as the texts, sacred and eternal, hovered in mid-air, their power rippling through the very fabric of the universe.
"The Vedas have spoken," Brahma's voice resonated, deep and filled with cosmic authority. "And with them, the path is illuminated. Remember this moment, for it will echo through the ages."
The Rishis, standing in awe before the celestial display, could hardly contain the wave of reverence sweeping over them. Their eyes shimmered with wonder, as though the very air around them was infused with divine truth.
"Vedas..." The word escaped their lips like a prayer, trembling with the weight of centuries of wisdom.
Rishi Atri's whisper was barely audible, but it carried the reverence of the Sky. His hands were clasped together in fervent supplication, his heart overflowing with gratitude.
The other Rishis followed suit, their faces glowing with an otherworldly joy. It was as though the Vedas were a life-giving rain falling upon them after an eternity of thirst. Some fell to their knees with a reverent thud, hands raised to the Sky, their voices breaking the stillness with unrestrained devotion.
"Vedas!" Rishi Atri repeated, his voice trembling, as though he were standing on the edge of eternity.
The collective chant rippled outward, growing louder, the very walls vibrating with the sacred resonance of their words. "Vedas!" they cried each voice an echo of countless generations past, a unified chorus of worship.
A mighty wave of devotion swept through the room, enveloping all who stood witness to the miracle. In that moment, the space was not just a room—it was a sanctified realm, touched by the divine. The Vedas, the eternal font of wisdom, hovered above them, a beacon of knowledge and grace.
…
Amid the devout praises of the Rishis, the Vedas gleamed once more, their golden light flashing brilliantly. From their sacred pages, hymns began to resonate, filling the air with an ethereal melody.
"Lord of the Rains, Storms and Thunder!"
"Sitting among the devas, they call you, the wisest among the wise!"
The faint yet powerful chant emanated from the Vedas, its sound imbued with timeless divinity. The hymn seemed to transcend the barriers of time and space, flowing across the boundless cosmos until it reached the ears of every Rishi.
In that instant, all Rishis who remained awake, not yet immersed in meditation or ascetic practices, heard the sacred verses. Their hands instinctively clasped together, and they joined in the hymn, their voices filled with reverent devotion.
In the Human world
"This... this is Indra!" Rishi Kasyapa exclaimed, raising his head as awe filled his expression. He clasped his hands tightly, his voice trembling with excitement as he joined the celestial chant.
"Lord of the Rains, storms and Thunder!"
"Sitting among the winds, they call you, the wisest among the wise!"
In the Vaikuntha Realm
Narada Muni, unable to resist the hymn's enchantment, began to sing with deep reverence. His voice harmonized with the hymn, a vessel of devotion.
The Devas, moved by the divine melody, joined in, their voices intertwining with the praises.
By the end of the celestial chanting, the Vedas' luminous glow slowly dimmed, and they descended back into Brahma's waiting hands.
"The wisdom of the world shall endure forever," Brahma declared solemnly. "This debate will be recorded within the Vedas and preserved until the end of this Kalpa."
Vishnu's lips curved into a smile as his gaze rested upon the sacred texts. "A most unexpected delight!" he said warmly.
"Excellent!" Shiva's voice, calm yet powerful, resonated across the gathering. "Indra, as King of Svarga, you have shown excellence today!"
Hearing these words, the other Rishis turned their gaze to Indra. Their eyes sparkled with surprise, admiration, and newfound respect.
"Homage to Indra, Lord of Thunder and Rains! Homage to the King of Svarga, the Slayer of Vritra!"
Their voices rose in unison, echoing across the Sky, a song of praise to the mighty King of Svarga, the Lord of the Rains, storms, and Thunder.
…
Many Rishis clasped their hands together in reverence, bowing deeply as they paid tribute. They did not hesitate, pressing forward eagerly, their eyes gleaming with fervor. Like wolves drawn to the scent of prey, they moved closer to Indra, surrounding him in an almost chaotic crowd.
To even catch a glimpse of the light of wisdom, to breathe in its sacred essence—this alone was enough to fill their hearts with satisfaction.
"Magnificent! Divine! Blessed!"
The exclamations rose like a hymn in their own right, their voices trembling with joy and awe.
Narada Muni, shaken from the spell of the Vedas' hymn, stood apart from the throng. Holding his veena close, he stared into the distance, lost in thought.
It's done, he realized with a pang of both pride and dismay. The debate between the King of Svarga and his sister was now Rishiized within the Vedas, etched into eternity.
But with that, a troubling thought followed. When others speak of this debate in the future, discussing its origins, who will they mention?
Narada swallowed hard, his expression tightening. It will be me—Narada, the instigator, reduced to a mere stepping stone in this tale of greatness.
"The wisdom of the King of Svarga," Narada murmured with a touch of awe, "has truly surpassed even my own."
Indra, now surrounded by the Devas and Rishis alike, basked in their admiration. The throng gazed upon him with reverence, their eyes reflecting not just awe, but a sense of worship.
A voice from the crowd rang out, eager and respectful. "King of Svarga, please grace my humble retreat in the forest! Teach your wisdom to me and my disciples. I shall welcome you with a grand ceremony!"
Indra, ever the gracious and composed king, nodded with practiced ease, his smile as radiant as the thunderbolt he wielded. "Ah, certainly… next time, my friend!" His tone was warm, yet there was a playful glint in his eyes.
Another voice echoed with similar reverence. "King of Svarga! Come to my home, and I shall offer you the highest courtesies, beyond compare!"
"Yes, yes," Indra replied, his voice smooth and charming. "Next time, of course! I shall make time for it."
Then, a bolder Rishi, with a mischievous gleam in his eye, stepped forward. "King of Svarga, I have a daughter—"
Indra, ever sharp and quick-witted, interrupted him with a loud, exaggerated cough. "Ahem! Testing me with such propositions, are we? Rest assured, my friend… next time, I'll attend to it!"
The crowd burst into hearty laughter, the sound ringing through the heavens like a melody. Their respect for Indra grew deeper, not just for his wisdom and power, but for the charm and wit that endeared him to those around him.
Indra, the mighty deity of storms and war, stood not only as a figure of awe but as a leader who understood the hearts of his people, humor and all. His ability to balance grace, humor, and authority made him not just a king, but a beloved and approachable divine figure.
…
The voices from the crowd came in an endless stream, each Rishi and Deva making their requests with unrestrained enthusiasm. Indra, with all the grace of a King, deflected them one by one, his smile unwavering even as the persistence of his admirers tested his patience.
Not far from the commotion, the Trimurti stood together with their divine consorts, observing the scene with varying expressions.
"Indra is indeed wise," Vishnu remarked, his tone light, "and he performs admirably as the King of Svarga. But alas, something is missing."
His words drew curious glances from the others.
"Nath, why do you say so?" Devi Lakshmi asked, tilting her head as her golden jewelry sparkled in the divine light.
Vishnu's smile widened, radiant and warm like the sun at dawn. His gaze softened as it fell upon her.
"A man without a wife," he said, his voice carrying the weight of both affection and certainty, "is incomplete—just as I cannot imagine being without you."
Devi Lakshmi blushed, her serene composure momentarily giving way to a rare moment of vulnerability. She stepped closer, leaning into her husband's embrace as his arms wrapped protectively around her.
Devi Parvati, hearing Vishnu's words, turned to Shiva with a knowing smile. Without a word, she tightened her grip on his hand, her gaze conveying a love as eternal as the mountains he meditated upon.
Meanwhile, Brahma glanced sideways at Devi Sarasvati, who stood by his side with her usual calm, unyielding grace. Her serene smile betrayed no reaction, but Brahma let out a quiet sigh of relief nonetheless.
Ah, the ease of a long and steady marriage, he mused, though a flicker of exasperation crossed his face. But truly, this sort of sentimentality is not for me anymore!
The interplay between the gods and their consorts unfolded quietly, each dynamic reflecting the balance of the cosmos itself. While Indra basked in the admiration of the Rishis and Devas, the Trimurti and their divine wives found joy in subtler, yet no less profound, connections.
…
Finally, after much persuasion and countless excuses, the Rishis gradually dispersed, their fervor subdued but their spirits visibly lifted.
As the crowd thinned, Surya approached Indra with an exuberant smile, followed closely by the other Devas.
"Those Rishis!" Surya said with a chuckle. "They always carried such stern, self-important expressions. This is the first time I've seen them so animated!"
"Indeed!" Vayu added his grin broadening. "I doubt any Rishi will dare say now that the Devas lack wisdom."
"Absolutely!" Agni exclaimed, patting his chest with exaggerated relief. "Thanks to Big Brother, we've silenced them all! I was nearly scared to death by the Tridevis during that debate!"
Cough! Cough!
Indra cleared his throat pointedly, turning his head toward Agni with a raised eyebrow.
Agni froze, realizing with dawning horror that the Devis were still nearby. His expression shifted immediately as he scrambled to correct himself.
"Of course, I didn't mean that the Devis were wrong!" he stammered, his face flushing with panic. "It's just… I'm too timid for such intense moments!"
Varuna chuckled softly but wisely held his tongue, glancing nervously at the Devis from the corner of his eye.
Indra smirked, shaking his head slightly at his fellow Devas' antics. "Enough of that. We still have important matters to attend to," he said firmly. "It's time to speak with the Lord about the mounts."
At this reminder, the Devas straightened, their jovial demeanor replaced by a determined resolve. This mission was crucial—for their future comfort and convenience, they couldn't afford any missteps.
Turning toward the lush green expanse nearby, the Devas called for their mounts.
TRUUUU!
With thunderous strides, Airavata, Indra's majestic white elephant, trotted forward, shaking his enormous head and swaying his trunk joyfully. Behind him, horses, Gazelle, Makara, and the other mounts of the Devas followed closely, their movements graceful yet powerful.
As the mounts gathered, Indra clasped his hands together and turned toward Vishnu, bowing deeply.
"Pranam Lord Vishnu!" he declared with reverence.
The other Devas quickly followed suit, echoing Indra's words with nervous sincerity.
Vishnu, his expression calm and benevolent, looked upon them with a faint smile. His gaze held the patience of eternity, a quiet approval shimmering in his eyes.
"Lord, it is as we say," Indra began, his voice steady and earnest. "We Devas labor tirelessly to uphold the balance of the world. If we, as masters, toil so diligently, it is only fitting that our mounts should share in that effort. We ask that they train under your guidance and grow stronger."
Vishnu's gaze shifted thoughtfully, moving across the assembled mounts.
The white elephant, the white horses, the gazelle—each radiated a divine aura, their forms glowing faintly with celestial energy.
As his eyes lingered briefly on Surya's white horse, a knowing smile spread across Vishnu's face. It bloomed, radiant like a sunflower turning toward the light, as though he glimpsed a vision of the future—one only he could see.
After a moment, Vishnu turned his attention back to Indra and the Devas, his expression serene.
"As you wish," he said with a gentle nod. "When these mounts have completed their penance, I shall bless them with my favor."
His words carried a divine weight, and his smile, radiant and reassuring, filled the air with a quiet, unspoken promise.
---
Chapter 78 The Self Above All
Bhu Loka
Rishi Atri gripped his cane tightly, his expression radiant with joy as he returned to his humble residence. Emotion swirled in his chest, making every step lighter than the last.
"To witness the manifestation of the Vedas," he murmured to himself, his voice trembling with elation, "is a reward earned through countless cycles of karma!"
His face radiated joy that erased years from a man's visage. Eager to share his overwhelming happiness, he quickened his pace, his heart longing to tell his wife, Anasuya, about the divine experience.
The small, thatched house stood surrounded by a simple wooden fence, its charm accentuated by the warm domesticity within. Outside, Anusuya, a cheerful woman with a kind smile, busied herself preparing a Satvik meal. The inviting aroma of roasted grains and freshly steamed rice mingled with the soft curls of white smoke rising from the cooking fire, adding a touch of serene simplicity to the scene.
The scent reached Rishi Atri before the sight did. His nose twitched slightly, and he inhaled deeply.
"Ah, the sweet fragrance of rice… and…" He paused, his eyes lighting up with realization. "Laddus made from jaggery and sesame! Anusuya has prepared laddus!"
Excited like a child, he hurried toward the house, his cane tapping rhythmically against the ground.
The door creaked open just as Rishi Atri reached the entrance. He stopped short, his eyes widening in surprise as a tall, mature-looking man stepped out. The newcomer's cold, serious expression and thick beard made him look every bit the stern ascetic, and the cane he carried added to his commanding presence.
Rishi Atri froze, momentarily stunned. But then recognition bloomed on his face, and his heart swelled joyfully.
"Durvasa!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing with delight. "You're back, hahaha!"
Unable to contain his happiness, Rishi Atri's laughter rang out as he opened his arms and moved toward the man. Despite his advanced age, he trotted forward with surprising energy, embracing his son tightly.
"Durvasa, my son!" he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Durvasa, ever stoic, allowed a faint smile to touch his lips.
Rishi Atri blinked away tears as he stepped back, his hands still on Durvasa's shoulders. He shook his head, overwhelmed by the fortune of the day.
To witness the manifestation of the Vedas and return home to find his son, one of his three, had completed his ascetic practices and come back—it was a joy that seemed too vast for one heart to contain.
He raised his gaze to the heavens, his voice quivering with gratitude. "What a day! If I were to ascend to Svarga now, I would leave without regret."
The laughter of a father reunited with his son and the scent of a lovingly prepared meal filled the air, transforming the humble home into a haven of divine happiness.
"Father, why are you so happy?"
Rishi Durvasa's piercing gaze fell upon his father, who couldn't seem to stop smiling since returning home. The joy radiating from Rishi Atri was infectious, yet puzzling to Durvasa, who had just emerged from his long meditation.
After ushering his father into the house, Durvasa finally asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.
Rishi Atri clapped his hands together, his eyes brimming with warmth and an odd touch of pity. A deep sigh escaped his lips.
"Ah, my son! You just finished your meditation, didn't you? Such a pity! Such a shame!" Atri lamented, shaking his head. "You missed it. I visited Vaikuntha all Tridev and Tridevi were present there! The Vedas… they manifested!"
Durvasa's brow furrowed deeply, his confusion was evident.
"What?!" he exclaimed, tilting his head slightly, his tone demanding clarity. "What's the big deal about that?"
Having been immersed in meditation, Durvasa had been entirely detached from worldly events. He now found himself grappling with the apparent significance of what he'd missed.
Rishi Atri sighed again, the weight of his awe palpable. "Lord Vishnu summoned the Devas and Rishis to Vaikuntha. You were absent, Durvasa, deep in meditation, so you have no idea what transpired."
Durvasa leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Father, what happened?"
"The Vedas manifested in their glory," Atri began, his voice reverent. "Their sacred words resonated for the entire Triloka to hear. His wisdom and name now have been recorded within them."
Durvasa's eyes widened, blinking with a mixture of astonishment and urgency. He shook his head, grabbed his father's arm, and leaned closer. "Who was it?" he demanded, his voice almost trembling. "Which Rishi's wisdom has been etched into the Vedas?"
The mere thought of being part of the Vedas—the supreme, holy scripture revered by all Rishis—was enough to stir deep excitement in Durvasa. To be recorded within it was an honor beyond compare, worth any sacrifice.
Rishi Atri hesitated, his words faltering. "The one was…" He paused, his expression clouding with caution. Just as he was about to speak, he recalled something—his son's strained history with the King of Svarga.
After all, it was Rishi Durvasa himself who had cursed the Devas, stripping them of their divine power and forcing them to churn the Kshira Sagara alongside the Asuras. The memory of that grudge stayed Atri's tongue.
"Never mind," Atri said carefully, patting his son's arm. "Perhaps it is better for you to learn of it in due time."
Durvasa's frown deepened, his sharp mind sensing there was more to the story than his father let on. Yet for now, he held his peace, his curiosity burning like a hidden ember, waiting to ignite.
Rishi Atri turned to his son, his gaze meeting Rishi Durvasa's expectant expression. His eyes glimmered with a blend of wisdom and gentle compassion.
"My child," he began, his voice calm yet weighted with significance. "Sometimes, the truth may seem hard to grasp, even harder to believe. But no matter how unsettling it might feel, you must choose to accept it."
He raised a hand, placing it reassuringly on Durvasa's shoulder.
Durvasa tilted his head in confusion, an unspoken question written on his face as if a literal question mark hovered above him. Why was his father speaking in riddles?
Sensing his son's bewilderment, Atri chuckled softly and cleared his throat. "In Vaikuntha, a wise man engaged in a debate with the Devi Sarasvati herself. The Devi posed a question to the gathered assembly, one that resonates deeply with all who hear it."
Durvasa's brows furrowed as he listened intently. "What was the question?"
Atri leaned slightly forward, his tone solemn. "She asked, 'What is the greatest in the world?'"
Durvasa's expression grew thoughtful. He closed his eyes, retreating into the depths of his mind to ponder the profound query.
Atri watched his son in silence, his patience unwavering, his gaze a mix of admiration and quiet anticipation.
Durvasa's brow furrowed in deep thought, his intense gaze fixed on the ground as he pondered. After a few moments, his eyes snapped open, brimming with conviction.
"The greatest in the world must undoubtedly be the Trimurti!" he declared, his voice resonant and unyielding.
In his understanding, the Trimurti—the three supreme Devas—were the pillars of existence, an inseparable triad embodying creation, preservation, and destruction. Like an inverted triangle, Mahadeva and Vishnu formed the apexes above, with Brahma as the foundation below, each indispensable yet unequal in reverence.
Durvasa's expression grew sharper, his reasoning cutting through his declaration. "But among the three, it is only Mahadeva and Vishnu who are revered above all else. Since they embody the ultimate, could it be… Mahadeva?"
Rishi Atri's lips curved into a knowing smile, his silence profound, a quiet nudge urging Durvasa to delve further.
Durvasa tilted his head, his mind racing. "Or is it Vishnu, the sustainer and protector of all creation?" he asked, his tone now inquisitive, seeking validation.
Again, Atri remained silent, his serene smile unmoving.
Frustrated yet intrigued, Durvasa asked, "Father, what is the answer? What truth did the wise man tell?"
Atri's eyes softened, and he finally spoke. "It is I."
Durvasa blinked, stunned by the simplicity of the response. "You?"
"Not me as in Rishi Atri," Atri clarified, his voice carrying the gravity of his wisdom. "But the 'I' within every being—the self. Every person's soul, their Atman, is the greatest. It is through the Atman that all truths are realized, all connections are formed, and the divine itself is understood."
Atri then elaborated, weaving a tapestry of concepts and principles that tied together the eternal nature of the self with its role as both the seeker and the sought.
Durvasa listened, enraptured, as his father's words deepened his understanding of the world, the divine, and, most importantly, himself.
Durvasa sat in silence, his body motionless, as the weight of his father's words settled over him. His sluggish movements betrayed the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. Slowly, his head began to shake, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips, growing into a look of joy as the revelation dawned on him.
He raised his hands, bringing them together in reverence. "What a wise man!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "I never imagined such a wise man could exist in this world!"
Unable to contain his curiosity, he leaned forward, his eyes wide with eagerness. "Father, who is this Rishi Muni? Where did he practice asceticism? Have I met him before?"
Rishi Atri's calm demeanor did not falter. He nodded slightly, his gaze steady. "Yes," he replied simply, "you've seen him before."
"Who is it? Which Rishi are we speaking of? Rishi Kashyapa? Or perhaps Rishi Angiras?" Durvasa pressed on, his questions spilling out in rapid succession.
Rishi Atri couldn't help but smile at his son's rare display of unbridled excitement. It was the first time he had seen Durvasa so visibly unsettled.
With a composed air, Atri decided it was time to unveil the truth. "Indra," he said, his voice calm yet laden with significance.
The name echoed in the quiet room, resonating like thunder. "Indra… Indra… Indra…" Atri's tone was steady, but his words struck like a lightning bolt, reverberating in Durvasa's ears, refusing to fade.
Durvasa's eyes widened in shock, his expression morphing into one of disbelief. His normally solemn face froze, his features betraying his inner turmoil—dilated eyes, a slightly open mouth, and a bewildered stare.
It was as if time itself had stilled.
Durvasa's body remained rigid, his posture frozen, like a statue carved in the throes of confusion. The revelation was not just unexpected—it was monumental, shaking the very foundation of his understanding.
Rishi Durvasa blinked, his expression perplexed, as if trying to process what he had just heard. He shook his head, his gaze fixed on his father. Slowly, almost incredulously, he repeated the name.
"Indra?"
"Yes," Rishi Atri affirmed with a nod.
"Indra? The King of Svarga?!" Durvasa's voice rose in disbelief, his eyes wide as if the very notion defied all reason.
"Indeed," Atri confirmed once more, his tone steady.
"Impossible!!" Durvasa exclaimed, springing to his feet. He waved his hands vehemently, his voice filled with indignation. "Indra possessing such wisdom? Preposterous! A joke!"
To Durvasa, the idea was ludicrous. Unless the celestial teacher himself, Brihaspati, had composed the Vedas on Indra's behalf, this revelation was beyond belief.
"It's true," Atri said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of conviction. "When I first heard his answer, I assumed it was arrogance speaking, and I was ready to curse him on the spot. But the wisdom in his words... it silenced even me."
Atri tilted his head back slightly and sighed as if reflecting on the moment. "The King of Svarga has shattered my preconceptions. I see him in an entirely new light now."
Durvasa, however, remained unconvinced. "Father, don't let illusions sway you. Indra's nature doesn't change. Beneath it all, arrogance still festers in his heart!"
Atri's expression darkened at his son's defiance. Rising to his feet, he fixed Durvasa with a cold glare, his eyes blazing with displeasure.
"Durvasa!" Atri's voice thundered, commanding the room. "How dare you speak such disrespect about one whose words have been recorded in the Vedas?"
Atri's anger was palpable, his righteous indignation filling the air like an electric charge.
---
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