Chapter 121 Nara Narayana
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"Ah, I see. That explains it."Indra smiled faintly. His expression remained composed, but deep inside, he couldn't help but grumble.
"Here I was, fulfilling my duties, fortifying Svarga and growing in strength through righteous labor, when suddenly I am expected to counsel Vishnu simply because Devi Lakshmi is concerned for the One who alleviates the burdens of all beings across Triloka and throughout infinite cycles of time?"
Wasn't Vishnu himself a master of psychology? Hadn't he been the one to orchestrate the marriage of Shiva and Parvati? And now, of all things, Devi Lakshmi wanted Indra to help someone through an emotional crisis.
He was good at tricking people, but was not good at persuading people, and had a change of heart. If something serious happens, Mahadev himself would intervene for sure. He had no intention of getting involved.
"Honestly, I think Lord Vishnu can handle this himself. There's no need for us to interfere better to let things unfold naturally." Indra's tone was lighthearted, but his stance was firm.
As the three of them walked through Svarga, the atmosphere buzzed with divine energy. The grand halls and celestial streets were filled with the hymns of Gandharvas, their melodious chants weaving through the air. Everywhere they passed, the devas paused their work to offer their respects.
"Pranam, King of Svarga!"
"Pranam Suryadev! Pranam Garuda, the fastest in Triloka!"
Their voices rang out in reverence. The Gandharvas toiled diligently, their spirits high. After all, if the King of Svarga himself was taking part in the labor, how could they do any less?
Garuda, however, remained unfazed. His expression was serious, his golden wings shifting slightly as he walked.
"This is a task entrusted to me by my Devi, and it is for the Lord Vishnu as well." His words carried weight, his brows furrowing in determination.
Indra let out a short sigh before turning to Surya with a raised brow. "Tell me, has your son ever died?"
Surya blinked, momentarily thrown off. After a brief pause, he sighed and said, "Yeah… he died. But then he became the King of Yamaloka."
Indra's gaze sharpened. Ever died, huh?
Surya's son, Yama, was once a mortal. When he met his end, he became the first to tread the path beyond death, crossing into realms unseen. In doing so, he transcended his human limitations and emerged as the ruler of Yamaloka, the Dharmaraja who upholds cosmic order. He had died, yet in that very death, he took on his true role.
But did that even count?
Indra tilted his head slightly. "And tell me… how did that feel?"
His voice carried a quiet intensity, the question lingering in the air like a distant thunderclap.
Upon hearing Indra's words, Garuda's gaze shifted toward Surya. If anyone could understand the Lord's emotions, it was he.
Surya hesitated, his lips parting slightly. "It's sorrowful… painful…" he murmured.
Indra narrowed his eyes. "Is that all?"
Surya lowered his head slightly as if embarrassed by his own thoughts. His voice was hesitant and uncertain. "Well… there was also a thought… a question, really. Why only my son? Why must he be the one to meet his death? And in that moment… I wanted the whole world to suffer with me. I wanted to destroy everything."
His words lingered in the air, raw and unfiltered.
Indra blinked, then gave Surya a long, scrutinizing look.
What a human-like emotion and turmoil for a deva.
"Anything else?" he asked.
Surya fell silent, struggling to articulate the depth of what he had felt.
Of course, there was more. The emotions were too complex to fully express. He could use his divine power to let the Lord Vishnu see his memories firsthand, but would that even help? If anything, it might only deepen the Lord's sorrow.
Garuda, meanwhile, looked increasingly impatient. He wasn't here to decipher emotions; he had a mission to complete. "Enough of this. Let's go already! There's no need for all this discussion."
He shot Indra an anxious look, but despite his urgency, he didn't dare outright interrupt. Instead, he could only attempt to push things forward.
Indra, however, merely glanced at him, unimpressed.
Does this guy still think he can take me anywhere?
If Garuda was going to insist on dragging him into this mess, Indra might as well drown him in philosophy first. Spreading his hands, he looked at Garuda with exaggerated patience and launched into a speech filled with the kind of theoretical nonsense that only the truly enlightened or the exceptionally lazy could wield with confidence.
"Everything is Brahman. Everything is Maya."
"Our emotions? Mere illusions limited by our perceptions, bound within the web of Maya. How then can we hope to grasp the true essence of Brahman?"
Indra's voice took on a rhythmic cadence, almost as if he were chanting scripture.
"The Lord is the protector of the world. He is the master of Maya, the weaver of illusion. The sun, the stars, all beings, even Nagas, even you, Garuda, all of existence are but reflections of his will."
Garuda squinted at him, his expression caught somewhere between deep contemplation and complete bewilderment.
"I… don't get it."
He shook his head, utterly lost in Indra's words. And yet, somehow, it all sounded profound.
"But what does any of this have to do with not going to Vaikuntha and helping the Lord?"
Indra explained.
"Madhu and Kaitabha defied the cosmic order, plunging the world into chaos." His voice grew heavy. "And Vishnu… he had no choice."
He exhaled, as though the weight of the thought itself bore down on him.
"As the Preserver, he had to destroy them. Yet as their Creator, he had given them life. Their karma was already bound to him." He paused, his gaze shadowed with understanding. "To protect the world, he was forced to unmake his creations."
His voice softened, almost uncertain. "Even as one of the Trimurti, he still feels. He still grieves. He may be beyond mortal attachments, but that doesn't mean he is untouched by them." A solemn breath. "He is Vishnu… but he is not without sorrow."
Indra cast a glance at the two beside him. Both had fallen into deep thought, their expressions distant as if lost in a realm of contemplation.
Seeing this, he couldn't help but curl his lips into a slight smirk.
Just like that, I've sidestepped the problem. If even these two were now caught in the web of philosophical musings, he was off the hook. He could finally slip away to some quiet corner, take a well-earned nap, and train in peace.
But then "Nara… his human part…"
Garuda's voice broke the silence, murmuring as if speaking to himself.
"Nara…?"
Indra's smirk faded.
Nara?
In Sanskrit, Nara meant "man," a being of the mortal world.
Surya, still deep in thought, lowered his head, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I think I understand… As the Protector of the World, the Lord is an extension of the universe itself."
Then, as if a missing piece had suddenly fallen into place, Surya's breath hitched.
"…What about Narayana?"
His words lingered in the air.
Nara is the human essence, the embodied soul.
Ayana, the ultimate refuge, the path to the eternal.
Narayana is the supreme foundation, the cosmic source from which all existence arises and into which it dissolves.
Indra blinked. His mind raced. Nara, Narayana…?
Those names... they were…!
"Nara-Narayana?!"
The words left his lips before he could stop them.
"A whisper, yet it rippled through Svarga. A murmur, yet it pierced the void. It echoed beyond the celestial planes, beyond the vast cosmic ocean, carried by the unseen winds of divinity until, at last, it reached the sacred heart of Vaikuntha."
Upon the coils of Ananta Shesha, within the eternal serenity of Vaikuntha—
Vishnu's eyes fluttered open. A faint smile, warm and knowing, curved his lips as if he had been waiting for this very moment.
By his side, Devi Lakshmi turned, her luminous gaze searching his face.
She did not yet know what had transpired, but she could see the shift in his presence, the subtle sorrow that had long lingered in his divine heart now softened, as though an unseen burden had been lifted.
With effortless grace, Vishnu rose from the coils of the great serpent.
And the universe responded.
The very instant his presence stirred, a breath of renewal swept across creation. The winds carried the scent of a thousand blossoms, whispering hymns of devotion. Dormant buds, as if called from slumber, unfurled into radiant bloom. The rivers shimmered in divine brilliance, their currents weaving a melody of cosmic harmony. The earth, which had waited in silent reverence, now pulsed with vibrant life.
A celestial rhythm awakened.
Vishnu pressed his palms together in a gentle anjali mudra, his expression serene, timeless.
"Indra."
As the words left his lips, golden light blossomed from his hands, rippling outward like waves upon the cosmic sea.
At that moment, Vishnu spread his hands, and two radiant streams of golden light flowed forth from his palms. The luminous energy drifted down before his celestial throne upon the coils of Ananta Shesha.
As the divine brilliance settled, it took shape, coalescing into two figures.
Both bowed with hands pressed together in anjali mudra, their forms mirroring Vishnu's divine radiance.
Not only were their physiques identical to his, but even their features bore an uncanny resemblance. Yet, there were distinctions subtle yet profound distinctions.
The figure on the left, draped in immaculate white robes, bore flowing black hair that cascaded over his shoulders. His presence was tranquil, embodying the stillness of deep meditation, serene yet boundless, like the silent depths of a vast ocean.
The figure on the right, clad in robes of crimson, stood with his powerful arms exposed, radiating unwavering strength and divine resolve. His very stance spoke of cosmic will, unyielding, relentless, the force that upheld Dharma itself.
Both were resplendent. Their faces are luminous, their eyes imbued with the wisdom of eternity. Broad shoulders, strong waists, the very embodiment of divine perfection.
"Nara… Narayana?"
Devi Lakshmi's delicate brows lifted in surprise, her lotus-like eyes widening as she beheld the manifestation before her.
Vishnu's gaze shimmered with warmth as he looked upon his two newly born incarnations. A quiet joy flickered in his celestial smile.
"Nara represents the individual self," he explained, his voice like a sacred hymn woven into the fabric of creation. "Narayana, the universal self. Two facets of the same truth."
"Like two hands clasped in Pranam. Inseparable."
He turned then, his divine vision resting upon Devi Lakshmi. Without hesitation, he reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers with effortless grace.
"My beloved, it was your devotion that brought this into being."
Lakshmi blinked, caught off guard. "Because of… me?"
Vishnu chuckled, his celestial voice a melody of affection. "Of course. It was you who sent Garuda to Svarga, guiding Indra and Surya to reflect upon the nature of existence. Their realization resonated across the cosmos. Thus, Nara and Narayana emerged."
As the weight of his words settled upon her, Lakshmi's expression softened with understanding. A revelation unfolding like the petals of a lotus in the golden light of dawn.
Vishnu's gaze turned outward, his voice carrying across the boundless expanse of creation.
"From this moment forth, when the world calls upon me, let them speak the name… Narayana."
His declaration resonated, rippling outward like waves upon the cosmic ocean, echoing beyond Vaikuntha, beyond the sea of milk, reaching the farthest realms where the Vedic hymns eternally resounded.
And thus, the name of Narayana was etched into the very essence of existence.
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Chapter 122 Karma in Motion
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"Nara. Narayana. Born into the world as men..." Devi Lakshmi folded her hands gracefully, her fingers delicate as lotus stems. She looked upon her husband with eyes full of love, her smile as soft as moonlight. "They will suffer, fight, and protect. But in the end, the world will remember them not as gods, but as saviors."
Vishnu returned her gaze with a faint, knowing smile. His divine eyes shimmered like the surface of the Milky Way. Before him stood two radiant figures, reflections of his essence yet distinct.
"You each have your path," Vishnu said, his voice calm and deep like the hush before the rain. "Go. Cultivate your strength and perform your dharma."
His eyes flickered with a gleam, something unspoken, something seen beyond the veil of time.
Nara and Narayana, standing before him with eyes as warm as spring and hearts as steady as mountains, bowed their heads in unison. Their palms met in a reverent gesture. They vanished into the sacred sanctuary of Vaikuntha.
Even as they faded, Vishnu's voice echoed outward. It traveled beyond Vaikuntha, beyond time itself, carried across the waves of the Milky Ocean.
Brahmaloka
Brahma, seated in the heart of his lotus throne, paused as the celestial sound reached his ears. A smile curled beneath his beard as he gently turned a page of the Vedas resting in his hands.
"Pranam Narayana..." he whispered.
Then, louder: "Hail to the Guardians of the Veda!"
He chuckled softly, proud and a little amused. "Well, it seems I'm trending in the higher realms today."
Kailasha
Snow fell in silence over the sacred mountain. The winds carried a divine rhythm, like a song only gods could hear.
Seated upon a smooth boulder, Lord Shiva rested with legs crossed and expression serene. There was mischief in his eyes, pure and ancient as time itself.
He nodded slowly.
"Pranam Narayana," he said with reverence. Then he added, with a small smirk, "And to the Guardian of the Veda."
The mountain echoed his words like a mantra.
Bhu Loka
In a quiet forest where the grass whispered in the wind, Narada Muni paused mid-step. He tilted his head, listening as a name floated down from the heavens.
"Nara… Narayana…" he murmured, heart opening like a flower in the sun.
But then, he heard another phrase.
"Vedic Guardian?"
His brows shot up. The words caught him off guard.
"…Wait." A beat passed. The realization struck like thunder.
"Indra?!"
Narada Muni blinked, mouth slightly open. He stared into the canopy for a long moment, speechless.
He did not speak. He did not have to. His silence said it all.
Across the earth, in ashrams tucked deep within forests and on mountaintops veiled in mist, sages and seers stirred from meditation.
The voice of Vishnu, resonant and absolute, had awakened them. Not from slumber, but from their absorption in the eternal.
One by one, they turned their gaze to the distant horizon, eyes shining with clarity. They folded their hands and bowed low.
"Pranam Nara Narayana."
"Hail to the Guardians of the Veda."
Their voices rippled outward like hymns woven into the wind.
The Rishis rejoiced. A new name for the Lord had been revealed, a new incarnation, a new aspect, a new path for bhakti.
"Guardian of the Veda?" one of the rishis mused, stroking his beard. "A new title. A new story must lie beneath it."
"Could this be the King of Svarga himself?" another asked with wide eyes. "Surely there is a tale of divine wit behind it. I must hear it for myself."
"The inauguration of Svarga is about to begin," said a third, practically dancing with joy. "I want to meet the Vedic Guardians. I must!"
"I will write it down, every verse of it!"
"I am coming too!"
The forest echoed with excitement. The sages leapt to their feet, robes billowing, hearts light with curiosity and devotion. Each of them, seekers of truth and storytellers of the cosmos, hurried toward the heavenly realms, eager for the wisdom waiting to unfold.
In another corner of the retreating forest, beneath the dense shade of a towering Jambudvīpa tree, Sage Kashyapa sat cross-legged. His posture was still, his breath calm. The dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy above, dancing across his weathered face as he lifted his gaze toward Svarga, the celestial realm.
"Indra..." he murmured with a faint smile, the name rolling off his tongue like an old melody. "To think that child Indra has grown into such a wise king."
There was warmth in his voice, tinged with pride. From the boy who once charged forward without thought, all fire and thunder, to a deva whose discernment now rivaled even the rishis, Indra had changed. Courage he always had, perhaps too much of it. But wisdom had once seemed a distant horizon.
And now, Indra had caught up to it.
A rare thing indeed, for a god to bloom late.
With a soft sigh, Rishi Kashyapa rose slowly, gripping the walking stick resting beside him. The earth hummed faintly beneath his feet as he stepped forward.
"Let me visit Svarga," he said to himself. "It has been far too long since I have seen my son."
Meanwhile, in the mortal world, within a humble thatched hut surrounded by the soft rustle of grass, Rishi Atri stood at the edge of a small wooden fence. His hands were folded in reverence, his eyes lit with something more than mere curiosity as he stared toward the heavens.
"Nārā and Narayaṇa..." he whispered. "The Lord's name carries such profound weight."
He paused, his voice softer now.
"Vedic Guardian?" His brow furrowed in thought. "Did they grant Indra that title because he now safeguards the very essence of the Vedas?"
The question tugged at his spirit. It was more than curiosity now. It was the feeling of being called, as if the cosmos itself had extended an invitation.
Without hesitation, Atri turned, grabbing the wooden cane by the doorway and stepping forward, robes fluttering behind him like wind-swept pages.
Just then, a gentle voice called from inside.
"Husband, where are you going?"
Anusuya stepped out, her pace graceful, concern knitting her brows as she looked at the unusually animated rishi. Her voice, soft as rain on a rooftop, halted him mid-step.
"Anusuya," Atri turned to her, a youthful gleam in his eyes, "I must go to Svarga. There is a light of the Vedas shining through the heavens, and I want to be there for it. I can feel it calling me."
Her smile, small and knowing, curved at the corners of her lips. She stepped close, hands gently tugging at his robe, fixing the folds with quiet care.
"Not so fast," she said, brushing a few strands of his hair back into place. "You will only end up waiting if you rush now. It is still early."
Her fingers lingered for a moment before reaching for his sleeve.
"Why not visit Soma first?" she added. "He has not been home in some time, or so Rohiṇī said. Spend a little while with him before you head to Svarga."
Atri hesitated, then let out a soft chuckle. He looked at his wife, the serenity in her eyes grounding him more firmly than any mantra.
"You are right, as always."
Anusuya smiled, peaceful and patient, and quietly returned to the threshold of their home, leaving Atri to gather his thoughts beneath the vast sky.
Rohiṇī was one of Soma's wives, the most cherished among the daughters of Prajapati Daksha.
When Soma, the radiant Moon God, married all twenty-seven of Daksha's daughters, each named after a nakshatra, he gave his heart almost entirely to Rohiṇī. Though bound by sacred rites to all, he favored her above the rest. He visited only her house, adorned only her with garlands, and spoke sweetly only to her. The others, though no less divine, watched silently as the balance of love tilted, like a ceremonial scale left uneven.
But in the life of a grihastha, a householder, there is no room for such neglect. Dharma demands impartiality. Affection, though it may vary in feeling, must never waver in responsibility.
Soma forgot this.
Prajapati Daksha, father to the slighted brides and guardian of cosmic order, saw the injustice and was furious. With the authority of a progenitor and the fire of a sage, he pronounced a curse upon Soma. The Moon's glow began to fade. His brilliance dimmed. His strength waned. He weakened day by day, as if dissolving into the dark sky he once adorned.
It was Lord Shiva who took pity. In compassion deeper than oceans, he placed the fading Soma upon his jata, his matted locks, and infused him with divine power. Thus, Soma was reborn as Chandradeva. His cycle of waning and waxing forever reflected both his punishment and his pardon.
But these days, Soma was rarely seen at home.
Anusuya could not help but worry. Her heart was heavy with the thought that her son might repeat his past mistakes, that he might once again let desire cloud judgment.
Hearing her concerns, Rishi Atri stroked his beard and nodded thoughtfully.
"You are not wrong," he said. "Soma is likely in the Chandra-loka. I will visit him first. Once that is done, I will head to Svarga."
A smile tugged at his lips as if the thought of the divine assembly brought him peace.
"Good," Anusuya said softly, her gaze warm and full of care.
She was relieved, but not just because Atri would see Soma. What truly troubled her was the possibility that Durvasa might also be in Svarga.
Her husband and her son.
Both proud, both quick to anger, more stubborn than two bulls locking horns in the middle of a field. If they clashed again in public...
She shuddered at the thought.
...
Meanwhile, in a humble thatched house nestled beneath a blooming Ashoka tree, a voice rang out.
"Pranam Narayana!"
Rishi Durvasa clasped his hands reverently, offering a soft salute to the Lord whose name echoed across realms.
But then, from the whispers of the wind, came another name, one bearing a title that caught his attention.
"Hmm? The Guardian of the Vedas... Indra?"
Rishi Durvasa's brow twitched as his voice dropped to a mutter. The words lingered on his tongue, bitter and disbelieving.
He fell silent.
Then, slowly, his gaze sharpened. His decision was swift.
"I must see this with my own eyes," he murmured, resolve settling into his bones. "What has Indra done to be granted such honor?"
Just then, the footsteps of a royal attendant echoed against the stone-paved courtyard.
Clad in a white dhoti with the emblem of the Lunar Dynasty embossed on his sash, the young emissary bowed deeply, balancing a basket of freshly gathered sacrificial flowers in his hands.
"Forgive the delay, Maharishi," he said respectfully. "His Majesty King Brihadyumna instructed me to ensure only the finest blooms were brought for your rites."
Durvasa's eyes narrowed at the sight.
"Brihadyumna!" he thundered, his voice cracking like lightning across the mountain air.
"You are a king, not a gardener's apprentice! If these flowers arrive a moment too late, the sanctity of the ritual is lost. Lost!"
The young attendant flinched but maintained his composure. This was not his first time weathering the Maharishi's fury.
Durvasa's scowl remained, but his gaze lingered just a moment longer. Somewhere behind the storm clouds of his wrath, a quiet approval flickered.
He turned away with a sharp flick of his robes.
"Prepare the chariot. We ride for Svarga."
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Chapter 123 Vidyut and Durvasa
As the chariot rumbled along the path, Vidyut, the royal attendant, drove it in silence. Yet, his mind was anything but quiet. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily on his shoulders.
For the past several hours, he had been in the presence of Durvasa, bearing witness to the full force of the sage's wrath. He had heard the thunderous voice, the biting rebukes, and seen the fear in the eyes of the courtiers and attendants alike. Even the king had sent him alone, likely to avoid facing the Rishi personally. Yet, despite Durvasa's imposing presence, Vidyut couldn't shake a troubling thought that lingered in his mind.
Why did Durvasa's anger seem so... endless?
"Forgive me, Maharishi," Vidyut ventured cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper. "But… why do you always seem to get so angry? You curse people so easily, and yet, your power is far greater than theirs. Is it not… exhausting?"
Durvasa, who had been walking in silence, suddenly halted. His gaze turned toward the boy, sharp as ever, but there was something in his eyes, something almost imperceptible, that made Vidyut hesitate.
"Exhausting?" Durvasa's voice was low yet filled with an almost eerie intensity. "You think it is exhausting?" He chuckled, though the sound held no mirth. "You think power is tiring, boy?"
Vidyut swallowed hard, realizing that his words might have been too bold. Yet, his curiosity grew, urging him to continue. There was a quiet rebellion in his heart and a longing to understand something deeper about the sage standing before him.
"I do not mean to offend, Maharishi," Vidyut began, still cautious. "But... I have seen you curse those who make the slightest mistake or even those who act out of ignorance. The fear in their eyes is unsettling. Does it not weary you to carry such power over others?"
Durvasa's eyes narrowed as he studied Vidyut, who stood with his head bowed, waiting for the sage's response.
"Do you think power should be a burden?" Durvasa asked, his voice tinged with an emotion Vidyut couldn't quite place.
The boy hesitated before answering. "I think… I think that power, if wielded with such a heavy hand, can consume those who use it. If you curse others so often, are you not also cursing yourself? The power to harm is not a light one to bear, Maharishi."
Durvasa stood still for a long while, staring into the distance as though considering something distant. His mind seemed lost in another world, where power and wrath intertwined in ways few could comprehend.
"You think I curse people out of rage alone?" Durvasa's voice was quieter now, almost contemplative. "You believe I am driven only by the fire of anger, like a beast driven mad by its own might?"
Vidyut, still unsure, nodded cautiously. "It is… it is how it appears, Maharishi."
Durvasa's gaze softened slightly, though his stern demeanor remained. "Rage," Durvasa muttered, more to himself than to the boy. "It is not as simple as that. Power, especially the power to curse, is not always born of anger. It is born of necessity, necessity to restore balance, to remind the world of the rules that govern us all." He paused, his gaze turning inward as if recalling something distant. "Sometimes, a curse is not a punishment. It is a lesson. A lesson for those who wander too far from the path of dharma."
Vidyut was quiet, absorbing the sage's words.
"And sometimes," Durvasa continued, his voice deepening with a solemn resonance, "anger is the only language the world understands. When the devas grow complacent, when the very foundations of dharma begin to tremble, who else can set things right but one who possesses the power to both bless and curse? Even a single word, spoken at the right moment, can shift the very course of the universe."
He paused, and in that stillness, Vidyut could feel the vastness of time itself, stretching infinitely forward and backward as if the entire cosmos held its breath.
"Fate, too, is like the wind," Durvasa murmured. "It is invisible, yet its effects are undeniable. The words of an innocent child, spoken at the right time, can alter the very course of the world, for time does not forget, and the universe never remains unchanged."
The boy's heart stirred with conflicting emotions. "But… why not show mercy? Why not try to teach without cursing? Isn't that a better way?"
Durvasa's lips twitched into something resembling a smile, but there was no joy in it. "Mercy is for those who truly seek redemption, child. But there are few who are willing to listen when the lessons are gentle. Only when the world faces the consequences of its actions, when the divine powers shake with fear, does it finally listen."
Vidyut stood still, his heart heavy with this new understanding, yet still conflicted. "I understand the need for balance," he said slowly, "but can one not achieve it through kindness as well? Is it not the same power that can create beauty as can destroy?"
Durvasa's eyes softened, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something akin to hope passed through his gaze.
"Perhaps you are right, child. Perhaps I have grown too accustomed to the weight of wrath. Perhaps there is another way, a way I have yet to truly grasp."
For the first time, Vidyut saw a crack in Durvasa's formidable exterior, a flicker of something beyond the fury that defined him.
"Perhaps," Durvasa repeated, more quietly, "there are other ways to teach. But I, too, am learning."
…
In Svarga
Indra, Surya, and Garuda turned their heads at the distant, echoing sound.
"Hari!"
"Narayan..."
Garuda folded his hands in Anjali Mudra, his golden eagle eyes flashing with an almost reverent gleam. His heart swelled with devotion as he gazed at the horizon, barely holding back tears of exhilaration.
How great is the Lord's new incarnation!
He could feel it—an overwhelming presence as if Narayana himself had descended, seated upon his back once more, illuminating all with infinite radiance.
"Om Namo Narayanaya."
With solemn reverence, Garuda bowed.
"Om Namo Narayanaya!"
Surya, watching Garuda, hesitated for a moment before joining him in a respectful salutation.
But wait, weren't they just discussing why the Lord had suddenly taken a new incarnation?
This wasn't supposed to concern them, right? The more Surya thought about it, the less sense it made.
Still, the Lord's voice sounded happy. Did this mean the turmoil in his heart had finally eased? Would they no longer have to journey to the Kshira Sagara?
Surya felt an odd mix of emotions. Devi Lakshmi's troubles regarding the mood of Narayana had been resolved.
But his own concerns regarding his son… remained unanswered.
So frustrating. Surya clenched his fists, his mind clouded with unease.
Indra, meanwhile, looked equally perplexed. Had he just spoken the names of Vishnu's two future incarnations without realizing it?
His gaze flickered toward Garuda, who remained deep in praise, then toward Surya, who was clearly brooding over something entirely different.
And then, an idea struck him. "Wait... isn't this actually good news?"
A smirk played at the corner of Indra's lips as a sudden realization dawned upon him.
"In the future," he mused, "a proud Asura, a devoted follower of the Surya, will rise. He will be endowed with the impenetrable Sahasrakavacha, the thousand-layered armor... but he will ultimately fall before Nara and Narayana."
A gleam of amusement flickered in Indra's eyes as he tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"In that case..." he continued, his tone light with irony, "their arrival now saves me from the beating I was destined to endure later!"
A wave of relief washed over him, and a satisfied chuckle escaped his lips.
"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, the weight of his thoughts lifting as he reveled in the turn of fate.
Indra beamed, his mood improving instantly.
This was turning out to be a rather fortunate turn of events
"It seems Vishnu is in a good mood. That means I won't have to go to the Kshira Sagara."
Indra smirked, visibly pleased with the turn of events.
Surya, on the other hand, looked far less enthusiastic.
He had just stepped out of one situation, only to realize he now had to return home and deal with family matters.
His expression soured. "Ugh. Just my luck."
Rolling his eyes, he let out an exasperated sigh.
Surya, who had been watching the exchange, suddenly spoke up, his voice hurried. "Agni, Vayu, and Varuna are welcoming the Rishis. But there aren't enough of them, I'm sure they're overwhelmed. I'll go and help!"
The words tumbled out quickly, and before anyone could respond, Sulie spun on his heels and dashed off into the distance.
Indra blinked. Then, a slow grin spread across his face. "Why does his back look so... desperate?"
He chuckled to himself. "Garuda!"
The sharp call snapped Garuda out of his thoughts. His body jolted, feathers ruffling as his wings nearly flared out on instinct.
For a moment, pure shock flickered in his golden eyes.
The way Indra had called his name reminded him of the day he was cursed. A shiver ran down his spine before he quickly folded his wings behind him, regaining his composure. "Pranam King of Svarga!"
Garuda bowed swiftly, his voice steady but hurried.
Indra, amused by his reaction, simply waved a hand.
"You're already here, why not stay a while? The Rishis have all gathered in Svarga. It's been ages since we've had such a grand assembly."
Garuda's sharp gaze flickered left and right as if weighing his options. For a long moment, he said nothing.
Indra smirked. "You're not scared anymore, are you?"
Garuda's head snapped up. "How absurd!"
He scoffed, puffing out his chest. "Me? Afraid? Never!"
He turned sharply, wings stretching wide. "I'm going to find Surya! I'll wait for the banquet to begin!"
Before Indra could say another word, Garuda launched himself into the sky, streaking toward the direction Surya had gone.
Indra watched him go, a bemused expression on his face. "Fast as always... as expected of Garuda."
With a stretch, he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. His gaze drifted toward the newly built temple standing in the distance.
He turned and began walking toward it. "Still plenty of time before the gathering begins..."
Honestly, he had no interest in mingling with the Rishis.
Might as well do something productive. As he approached the temple, a smirk tugged at his lips. "Well then time to put in some honest work."
And with that, Indra got to work, content to build and strengthen his domain, one stone at a time.
In the Palace of the Soma Dev
The moonlight flowed like a silvery river, its cool radiance spilling gently over the land. A faint, ethereal glow wrapped the temple, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere that was both peaceful and eerily quiet. The moon's glow bathed the surroundings in its tranquil hue, making everything appear as if it were suspended in time.
The Devies, graceful in their beauty, moved soundlessly through the halls, their presence as soft as the moonlight itself.
The air was still, serene, and deeply beautiful.
Adiri Rishi, leaning on his walking stick, took a slow, relieved breath as he hurried toward the Palace of Soma, his steps quickening with each passing moment.
"Finally... I've arrived!"
Rishi Atri wiped his brow and crossed the temple threshold, the sound of golden vessels clinking loudly in the otherwise silent temple. His brow furrowed in confusion as he walked deeper into the space.
In an instant, he noticed the commotion.
Twenty-seven beautiful women were throwing objects in frustration, their faces marked with displeasure. The air felt tense with their discontent.
"What's going on here?" Rishi Atri's voice rang out with authority. "Throwing things around like this, what is this madness?"
At the sound of his voice, Soma's wives turned, lowering their gazes in respectful acknowledgment. One by one, they walked quickly toward him, their steps soft and graceful.
"Rishivar!"
Rishi Atri's eyes scanned the room, but there was no sign of Soma. His expression shifted to concern. "Where is Soma?"
Rohiṇī, Soma's first and once most cherished wife, spoke quietly, her voice heavy with sadness.
"I don't know… He hasn't been home for some time now."
Rohiṇī's eyes fell to the floor. Once the favorite, now she felt no different than her sisters. Soma had become distant, and his absence weighed heavily on her heart.
Atri's face tightened with concern. He knew his sons well.
His third son, Dattatreya, was the most diligent and steady, always the one to be relied upon. His second son, the temperamental one, had a fiery spirit, just like his own. But Soma… Soma had always been his favorite. Cheerful, bright, yet prone to trouble.
"I came here to attend the banquet of the King of Svarga," Rishi Atri said, his voice carrying authority. "As a Dev, Soma will surely return soon. A husband who neglects his duties, especially to his wife, will be reprimanded when he returns."
Atri's face hardened with resolve, his old features creasing as he spoke with a deep, fatherly voice. "I'll make sure he understands the consequences of such behavior."
"King of Svarga..."
Rohiṇī's voice trailed off, and suddenly, a memory seemed to spark within her.
She looked up, her eyes widening in realization. "The King of Svarga spoke of this before!"
Her voice was more certain now. "My husband has been absent for so long. If something were to happen, we would be unaware and left only with worry. Perhaps... I should speak to my sisters. Together, we might earn a blessing, and maybe we can discover where Soma truly is."
Rohiṇī clenched her hands tightly, her gaze shifting with resolve as she felt a small smile tug at her lips. "Father... I understand now."
Rishi Atri looked at her, puzzled. "Understand what?"
But before he could ask further, the ground beneath them trembled. A deep, familiar roar shook the air, echoing across Svarga.
"Indra!"
The name rang through the Svargaloka, the sound heavy with both anger and authority.
---
Chapter 124 Roar of Durvasa
"Indra!"
"Indra! Indra! Indra!"
The roar thundered through Svarga like the wrathful bellow of a lion—or the righteous fury of an enraged Brahmin. It shook the heavens, echoing through the celestial halls with an earth-shattering resonance.
Rishi Atri stood frozen for a moment. Just as he was about to speak to Rohini, his breath caught in his throat, his eyes widened in shock, then disbelief, as he instantly recognized the voice.
"Rishi Durvasa!" His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet laden with the weight of certainty.
...
Vaikuntha.
Upon the great serpent bed of Ananta Shesha, Vishnu reclined in divine ease, his gaze fixed upon Devi Lakshmi. His eyes gleamed with warmth, reflecting the love that rippled between them like gentle waves upon the cosmic ocean. She met his gaze with an affectionate smile, a serene joy radiating from her presence.
The thousand-hooded serpent, Ananta Shesha, observed them with quiet satisfaction. His forked tongue flickered, tasting the air as he watched over his Lord and Devi.
At last, peace had returned.
For once, the ever-interrupting Garuda was absent, soaring somewhere in the vast expanse of the cosmos. Here, in this moment, only Vishnu and Lakshmi remained.
Yet, even in the heart of Vaikuntha, tranquility was fleeting.
Vishnu's eyelids fluttered briefly before his expression shifted. His gaze turned distant, his lips pressing into a thin line. A flicker of divine awareness passed through him as he turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing toward Svarga.
"Rishi Durvasa..."
The name left his lips in a murmur.
Lakshmi, attuned to every shift in her husband's presence, felt a sudden unease creep into her heart. Her fingers, pale and delicate, instinctively tightened around his hand.
"Husband, what troubles you?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.
Vishnu exhaled softly, yet his voice bore the weight of certainty.
"Durvasa has arrived in Svarga, and he is furious. When he is in such a state, curses are sure to follow. The Devas are in danger."
At his words, Lakshmi's pupils contracted. Memories surfaced of past curses, of tribulations that had cost the Devas dearly. Her hold on Vishnu's hand grew firmer, her breath slightly uneven.
Last time, it was Durvasa's curse that stripped the Devas of their wealth.
A curse that had cast her into the Ocean of Milk, setting in motion the great churning that followed. So many things had unraveled from that single moment.
She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. "May the Devas be spared this time..."
Her long lashes trembled as she lowered her gaze, worry clouding her otherwise radiant face.
...
Brahmaloka.
From his divine throne, Brahma gazed downward, his eyes settling upon the celestial turmoil unfolding in Svarga. His brows furrowed ever so slightly.
"It is him," he murmured.
The Creator, though mighty in his own right, understood the weight of curses all too well. He himself had shaped destinies, weaving decrees into the very fabric of existence. Yet—when it came to the power of curses, Rishi Durvasa surpassed even him.
Durvasa, whose temper burned as fiercely as an unbridled yajna fire, would unleash his wrath without hesitation the moment he perceived offense.
Brahma exhaled slowly.
"The Devas are in trouble."
His voice was low, contemplative. His gaze shifted, drawn instinctively toward another presence in Svarga. A familiar, lean figure draped in saffron robes, fingers idly strumming a veena, lips curled in an all-too-knowing smirk.
Narada.
Brahma's eyes narrowed.
"Could it be him…?"
Across the ethereal chamber, Devi Sarasvati sat with quiet grace, her veena resting upon her lap. The delicate movement of her fingers stirred a melody rich with complexity, one that carried both beauty and unease.
Her voice, soft yet profound, filled the silence.
"Once again, the Devas stand at the edge of calamity."
A lingering sorrow wove through her tune, mirroring the worry in her luminous eyes.
"Durvasa's wrath is not easily quelled. If wisdom does not prevail, misfortune shall follow."
Her fingers glided over the strings, the veena's song shifting into a solemn refrain—one of foreboding, yet tinged with the faintest hope.
She lowered her gaze slightly.
"Let clarity find them before darkness does."
The veena's hymn carried forth, its celestial resonance rippling through the vastness of the cosmos.
…
Svarga.
A thunderous roar tore through the skies of Svaraga, shaking the very fabric of the celestial realm. Its sheer intensity sent ripples of unease across Svarga, reaching even the farthest corners of the sky.
High above, Garuda, soaring with his mighty wings outstretched, felt an eerie shiver race through his frame. His golden feathers bristled instinctively, standing on end as his sharp eyes darted toward the source of the voice.
"Rishi Durvasa!"
The name left his beak in a hushed murmur, his keen eagle gaze flashing with recognition.
This voice…
There was no mistaking it. The sheer authority, the unmistakable wrath could belong to none other than Rishi Durvasa.
Garuda's eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze downward. In an instant, his vision locked onto a towering structure in the distance, the grand court of the King of Svarga.
Before the court, golden steps cascaded downward in shimmering layers, faintly glowing like fireflies in the twilight. But the celestial splendor of the scene was lost on the gathered Devas, who stood frozen, their bodies tense with fear.
They huddled together like quails caught in a storm, their divine glow dimmed by the looming presence of the enraged Rishi before them.
Agni clenched his jaw. Vayu stood rigid, his expression grim. Varuna looked as if he had already drowned in his despair. But none was as visibly shaken as Surya.
A bead of sweat trailed down the Sun God's radiant face as he took a slow step backward. If I had known this would happen, I would have stayed in the Suryaloka…
Regret gnawed at him. If only he had listened to his daughter, remained within his domain, or better yet, gone to consult Yama instead.
The last time they had drawn Durvasa's ire, the punishment had been swift and merciless. Their divine power had been stripped away, leaving them helpless, weak, and powerless.
He will not dare to tempt fate again. Yet Durvasa's fury had already descended upon them.
"This is outrageous! Unacceptable!"
His voice bellowed like the roar of a lion, reverberating across the temple grounds. The force of his anger pressed down upon the Devas, leaving them unable to lift their heads. "You Devas… you dared to erect a statue of Asuras in Svarga?!"
His eyes gleamed with a piercing coldness, his gaze drilling into them like a divine judgment. "What is the meaning of this? What insolence is this!?"
A heavy silence gripped the air.
The Devas flinched, their faces paling. They exchanged nervous glances, but not one among them dared to meet the Rishi's gaze.
The gathered Rishis, who had witnessed the spectacle unfold, now turned toward the grand temple entrance. And there, before the temple, stood three colossal statues.
Towering like mountains, their golden armor gleamed beneath the celestial light. Their carved expressions bore an undeniable majesty, exuding an aura of overwhelming strength and defiance.
The onlookers needed no second glance to recognize the figures immortalized in stone.
Hiranyaksha. Hiranyakashipu. Hayagriva.
The air grew heavier. The Rishis slowly turned their gazes back toward the Devas, their expressions unreadable, waiting, expecting an explanation.
But the Devas remained silent, their lips sealed by fear. At last, a voice broke through the suffocating stillness.
A hesitant cough. A reluctant step forward.
Agni's flames dimmed by dread, gathered what little courage he had left, and forced out a reply.
"These statues… they were not our doing." He swallowed, feeling the weight of every eye upon him. "The Asuras carved them. Indra took them as trophies."
After all, he was the Dev of Fire, the very force that carried sacrificial offerings to the heavens. If the Rishis wished to perform yajnas, was it not fitting that they grant him some respect?
Yet, at this moment, respect was the last thing on Agni's mind.
"Trophies?" Rishi Durvasa's voice was like the crack of a whip, cold, sharp, and unrelenting. His eyes, frigid as the ice of the highest peaks, bore into Agni with such intensity that, despite being the Dev of Fire, he felt a chill creep through his very core.
"Shut up!"
The words rang out like the relentless tolling of a divine bell, each echo striking Agni like a hammer upon molten steel.
Durvasa's fury erupted like a storm. His eyes, now ablaze with divine wrath, spat fire as he advanced.
BOOM!
A deafening roar of thunder split the air. In one swift motion, Durvasa thrust his hand forward, jabbing a finger against Agni's forehead with such force that the Dev of Fire stumbled back.
"You Devas reside in Svarga, yet you have strayed from the path of your duty!" His voice thundered like a storm upon the cosmic ocean.
"You are the upholders of order, the guardians of Dharma, the guiding light for the Triloka. Yet here you stand before a temple desecrated by the very idols of the Asuras. Have you forgotten who they were? Hiranyaksha, the one who dragged Bhūmi Devi into the abyss. Hiranyakashipu, the tyrant who claimed he was greater than Vishnu and sought to kill his own devoted son. And Hayagriva, the Asura who stole the Vedas from Brahma and plunged the world into darkness."
"Have you forgotten why you exist? You are not the rulers of the three worlds. You are their caretakers. You do not own the Triloka. You serve it. And by honoring these enemies of Dharma, you invite the very destruction you were born to prevent."
His gaze burned with divine fury.
"Is this the path by which you uphold Dharma? Is this the example you set for the world?"
The devas flinched as his scolding rained down upon them, each word striking like a thunderbolt from the heavens.
BOOM!
Durvasa's dark eyes crackled with divine energy as his gaze swept over them, piercing their very souls.
Their expressions were a chaotic mix—fear, confusion, shock. Some clenched their fists; others cast their eyes downward, too afraid to meet his glare.
Then, his voice rang out again, sharp as a blade.
"Where is Indra?!"
His words cut through the air like a divine decree.
"Not only have you erected statues of Asuras in the heart of Svarga, but you summon Rishis to your banquets while your King does not even come to greet them! Is this how a ruler welcomes his guests?!"
Durvasa's fury surged once more, his voice echoing through the celestial halls.
"It's too much! It's too much!"
And then.
"Indra!"
His voice, like an unrelenting thunderstorm, rolled across the heavens, shaking the very foundations of Svarga. The name, repeated again and again, carried through the divine realm, traveling vast distances in an instant.
Far away, in the golden halls of his palace, Indra's eyes snapped open.
A sharp breath left him.
For a moment, he did not move. Then, realization dawned upon him, and a single figure appeared in his mind.
That voice…
That furious, earth-shaking bellow…
It was the same as before. His lips parted, and with a grim expression, he murmured the name.
"Rishi Durvasa."
---
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