Chapter 150: Chapter 150 New Devotee
Vishnu, the Lord of Māyā, stood untouched by the veils that could shroud even the heavens. No illusion in the Triloka could truly deceive him. It was no surprise, then, that Indra's intricate illusion held no power over him.
But most beings were not Vishnu.
Shachi, despite her divine birth, was still among those unable to pierce through such finely woven Māyā. Her eyes could not see what the Lord of Vaikuntha saw with effortless clarity.
Vishnu watched her from a distance.
By now, Shachi had already raced ahead, her silken garments fluttering like banners in the wind. She arrived before the sacred land where Aditi's ashram once stood.
A gust of wind swept through, scattering dry leaves and lifting dust into the air.
Shachi's footsteps slowed as she gazed around in confusion. The thatched cottage was gone.
"No…"
"Did she… leave too?"
She turned in circles, searching the empty clearing, her heart pounding with unease. But beyond the open ground, there was nothing. No figure. No trace of Aditi.
Vishnu, still cloaked in the appearance of a traveler, took two measured steps forward. His divine gaze flickered with purpose.
He could sense it now, an unseen pulse, a vast wave of spiritual force moving through the air.
A silent thunder rolled through the subtle planes, unheard by mortals, but unmistakable to the gods.
Vishnu paused and turned his head toward the horizon.
In the far reaches of the world, fire blazed skyward. A surge of ascetic energy, fierce and pure, rushed upward like a pillar of flame, its brilliance illuminating all of Bhūloka for a brief, blinding moment.
The divine light came and went swiftly. In an instant, it was gone, like a vision in a dream.
But Vishnu had seen it. Others, too, would have noticed.
His expression sharpened.
"Rishi Durvasa..."
"This is the fire of his mahā-tapasya. His offering nears completion. With his penance, the garland gifted from Svarga shall be transmuted into a weapon of sacred power. When the sacrifice ends, a divine līlā will begin."
He spoke softly, reverently.
This light, this surge, was the sign of Rishi Durvasa's sacrifice reaching its final stage. The garland, offered in purity, was absorbing the heat of his spiritual fire, preparing to become an instrument of cosmic balance.
And where such power rose, others would gather.
"Even the Asuras have taken notice," Vishnu murmured, his gaze scanning the unseen corners of the world.
Then his eyes returned to the hidden clearing.
He peered through the layers of Māyā, each as delicate and treacherous as a spider's web. There, hidden from all eyes, was Indra, his expression taut with surprise.
Vishnu smiled.
"So, Indra noticed as well."
He closed his fist slowly. A shimmer of divine light passed across his knuckles. This was not a misfortune. It was an opportunity.
Under this divine cause and effect, even Indra had been drawn out from hiding.
And perhaps, just perhaps, his matchmaking was nearly complete.
…
"What immense power of penance..."
Indra opened his eyes.
He rose slowly from his seated posture, his silhouette still hazy, like a mirage born of heat and meditation. Each step he took forward shimmered through the layers of illusion he had woven.
Around him, the world of Māyā glittered dreamlike, vibrant, painted in iridescent hues. Every illusion reflected like a gem in the light, deceptive in its beauty, yet familiar.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His footsteps echoed softly as he moved.
He emerged from the illusory barrier and gazed into the horizon. In the far-off sky, a pale radiance lingered, the clouds shifting like waves of silk. Yet there was no sign of the divine flame that had earlier blazed upward. The ground bathed in soft light gave no trace of the ascetic fire that had once scorched the heavens.
Still, Indra was certain.
That was no ordinary presence. The energy had been vast and sacred.
"Such intense tapas... Who could it be?"
His brows furrowed, and a murmur passed through his lips.
This was no ordinary ascetic for sure. Only a well-renowned Rishi could radiate such force, one who had plunged into the fire of penance and returned carrying the authority of Dharma itself.
Rishis were not warriors or kings. They were the keepers of balance, teachers of truth, and guardians of cosmic order. It was through them that Dharma was preserved when it began to decay.
Even avatars of the Trimurti had knelt before Rishis, Rama before Vasishta and Vishvamitra, and Krishna before Sandipani. The sons of devas, too, had to learn, as did the sons of asuras.
If one was cursed by a Rishi whose tapas was superior, there was often no protection. The only true defense was greater penance. Otherwise, fate would offer no mercy.
And yet, their justice was never blind.
If the cursed one approached the Rishi with humility, acknowledged their fault, and sought forgiveness with a sincere heart, the Rishi might offer a path to redemption. At times, they would even reveal the very remedy to undo or soften the curse, for their goal was never destruction, but recreation after destruction.
It was a harsh but necessary cycle.
A forest of silent rivalry, where power lay not in weapons, but in stillness, restraint, and the fire of inner sacrifice.
Indra sighed.
"This whole Rishi path has become a contest of who can suffer the longest," he muttered.
Just then, a soft fragrance drifted through the air.
A voice followed, light and curious.
"What a strong child you are. You must be from a noble lineage. Have you seen a thatched hut nearby?"
Shachi stood behind him. Her voice was gentle, but there was a glint of intelligence in her eyes. She tilted her head slightly, studying the small figure before her.
The boy before her was bare-chested, sturdy and healthy, his arms still round with the fullness of youth. A string of rudraksha beads was wrapped tightly around his biceps. He wore pleated white trousers, almost resembling a warrior's dhoti.
Even from behind, he looked like a fierce little prince.
Indra turned his head, one eyebrow arched in amusement.
Before him stood a woman, graceful, radiant, unmistakably someone from the Danava clan.
And beautiful. Very beautiful.
"Who are you?" he asked, placing his hands on his waist with theatrical seriousness.
Shachi giggled quietly. He looked so serious for someone so small.
"My child," she said softly, "I am a descendant of Kashyapa Rishi. I came to visit my grandmother, Devi Aditi."
She bowed slightly as she spoke, her tone respectful.
Indra blinked, a little bewildered.
What kind of introduction was that? Every second being in the realms descended from Rishi Kashyapa. Did she think he wouldn't notice?
"Really now?" he said, tilting his head. "You seem troubled. Are you sure you're here to visit? Or is there another reason you're searching for the daughter of Prajāpati Daksha?"
Shachi's smile faded. Her eyes lowered, shadows curling in their depths.
"I… encountered a hardship," she said quietly. "Something I cannot resolve alone. I hoped my grandmother could help me."
Indra tilted his head, pretending to consider her words.
"The daughter of Daksha isn't accepting guests today," he said with mock gravity. "You've come too late."
Shachi's lips parted in surprise. Her shoulders slumped, and a flicker of sorrow crossed her face.
But then Indra's tone changed.
"That said... I know a way to solve your troubles."
Shachi's head snapped up. Her eyes sparkled with sudden hope.
Could this child be someone special? The youngest son of Aditi, perhaps?
She quickly folded her hands in reverence.
"Oh, divine child!"
"You are brilliant like a peacock in the morning sun. You are wise like a swan gliding through the sacred lake. Please… bless me with your counsel."
Indra's chest puffed slightly with pride.
He liked this.
He liked this very much.
"Very well," he said, voice solemn. "I will share the secret of my strength. With it, any wish you hold in your heart will become reality."
"Go forth… and perform tapas."
"Do penance in the name of the great Indra."
"When your penance bears fruit, your desire shall be fulfilled by Indra Himself."
He spun around quickly, trying to maintain a dignified air, though a hint of blush touched his cheeks.
This was the first time anyone had worshipped him like this, so directly.
It felt… nice.
He had just gained a beautiful new devotee. Honestly, he was a little embarrassed that he had tricked her, but he was also deeply pleased.
...
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