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.
---
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