Indra leaned back, silver spoon in hand, ready to indulge in his well-deserved feast. Before him, the Chhappan Bhog gleamed with divine radiance, each dish a testament to his status as the King of Svarga. He smirked, pleased with how effortlessly he had reshaped the dream to his desires.
He took a bite—warm, fragrant, rich with ghee and saffron. Perfection.
But as he lifted his spoon for another, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. The golden plate before him shimmered, its edges blurring like ripples on water. The puris stacked high, the sweets glistening with syrup—everything looked too perfect, too vivid, too unreal.
Indra frowned.
A thought, unbidden, whispered through his mind: Is this a dream? Or… something else?
His grip on the spoon tightened.
The feast wavered. The aroma dulled. The golden plate trembled, and suddenly—
It was gone.
Cold, hard reality snapped into place. No luxurious cushions. No celestial banquet. No divine feast. Only the rough, unyielding stone beneath him and the crisp air of Kailasha stung his skin.
Indra sat cross-legged, breath steady, mind reaching toward the divine.
Yet before him, a single golden plate hovered once more, laden with dal, chaval, puris, and fruits—neatly arranged, glowing with purity.
The sight stirred his appetite. Instinctively, he flicked his wrist, summoning a golden spoon. He scooped a bite, savoring the taste. It was simple. Humble. Yet, inexplicably, it filled him with something deeper than mere indulgence.
"It tastes… good," he murmured, almost in surprise.
The plate floated beside him, the curry within shimmering, circling him as if teasing, tempting—
Indra's eyes widened.
Wait… this has happened before.
His pulse quickened, unease coiling in his chest. The flickering glow, the shifting sensations—was this another dream? Had he truly awakened, or was he simply slipping into another illusion?
The golden plate wavered again, its glow dimming. The food, once so fragrant, turned translucent, dissolving like mist under the morning sun.
Indra shut his eyes, exhaling slowly. No more illusions. No more deception.
This was not Svarga. Not a feast. Not a king's indulgence.
He was in Kailasha.
And perhaps… this was yet another attempt to disturb his penance.
A quiet resolve settled over him as he let go of the illusion. This time, he would not be swayed.
...
"Why haven't you woken up yet, big brother?"
Surya furrowed his brows, confusion flickering in his golden eyes as he turned to Rishi Dadhichi beside him.
Dadhichi, his expression tense, stared wide-eyed at the sacred feast hidden beneath the red cloth. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, unable to suppress his reaction to the overwhelming aroma. Yet, instead of reaching for the meal, he turned his gaze toward Indra.
There, upon the stone bed, the King of Svarga lay motionless. His brow creased with a solemn resolve as if he were actively resisting the divine allure of the Amrita Bhojana.
"As expected of the man recorded his wisdom in the Vedas... To suppress even the temptation of Amrita Bhojana!"
Pressing his palms together, Dadhichi exhaled deeply. Awe and reverence filled his voice, but beneath it lingered something more—a tinge of guilt, a realization that his asceticism was still lacking.
"Narayana, Narayana~"
A familiar voice rang out, laced with mischief.
"Why not lift the red cloth together?" Narada Muni suggested, strumming his Veena as he inhaled deeply, savoring the divine scent. "Surely, that would only make the taste even sweeter."
The mere thought sent a ripple of unease through the gathered deities. Surya, Agni, Vayu, and Varuna fixed their gazes upon the veiled meal, their faces taut with the same caution one would reserve for a dreaded Asura King.
"I'll help!" Soma declared, stepping forward.
"So will I!" Rishi Dadhichi echoed.
Without hesitation, the devas and sages raised their hands in unison. A brilliant surge of energy erupted—seven dazzling hues intertwining, forming a radiant, rainbow-like force that shot toward the crimson veil.
Prrrrrr!!!
From a distance, Airavata flapped his mighty ears, his trunk rising high before unleashing a powerful spray of water. The celestial mounts stirred, their roars and cries blending with the rushing winds and crackling flames, each force converging in an unyielding effort to unveil the sacred feast.
Yet, the red cloth remained undisturbed.
Instead, an even richer, more intoxicating fragrance burst forth, sweeping over them like an unstoppable tide.
The devas, rishis, and celestial mounts froze, their bodies stiffening as the divine aroma of the Amrita Bhojana filled the air. Eyes widened, mouths watered—some even leaned forward unconsciously, drawn in by the overwhelming scent.
Even Airavata let out a deep, rumbling breath, his trunk twitching toward the food. Surya's Ashwas stomped their hooves impatiently, and Garuda, despite his sharp discipline, flicked his tongue over his beak.
Yet, at the center of it all, Indra sat unmoved.
His expression was calm, his breathing steady, as if he were completely unaware of the feast before him.
"What the—?!" Vayu muttered, rubbing his nose as if that would somehow dull the temptation. "How is he not reacting to this? I'm barely holding myself back!"
"Forget reacting, he's not even flinching," Agni added, his usual fiery tone laced with disbelief. "Does he even realize what's in front of him?"
Rishi Dadhichi exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "He knows. That's the thing… he knows, and yet he chooses not to care."
The devas exchanged uneasy glances.
"So what do we do?" Soma finally asked.
Dadhichi sighed. "Nothing. You can't wake him up unless Indra completes his tapasya."
A heavy silence fell over the gathering. The celestial meal, still radiating divine energy, no longer seemed as tempting.
And still, Indra remained motionless.
...
Meanwhile, in Vaikuntha…
A ripple spread across the infinite ocean of milk. The great serpent Shesha stirred, his countless hoods shifting as if sensing the disturbance in the cosmic balance.
Lord Vishnu, reclining upon the serpent's coils, slowly opened his eyes. His gaze, deep as the endless sky, turned toward Mount Kailasha, his expression calm yet contemplative.
Was this truly possible?
Even he, the Preserver of Dharma, was bound by cosmic law. Hayagriva had seized Svarga through a rightful challenge, and by the rules that governed the universe, Vishnu could not simply undo what had been done.
To interfere directly would mean disrupting the sacred order.
Yet, in all his divine foresight, he could sense the ripples of fate twisting in unforeseen ways. This was not just a matter of celestial politics—there was something greater at play.
"Narayan?"
Lakshmi's voice was soft yet steady, her presence beside him radiating warmth. He turned to her, finding her eyes filled with quiet understanding.
"The path is uncertain," he admitted. "For the first time in ages, I must wait."
Lakshmi placed a hand upon his. "Even the Preserver must let the universe unfold."
Vishnu exhaled, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of his Shankha. The weight of uncertainty was rare, even for him. But one thing was certain—Indra's tapasya would decide everything.
...
"What an enchanting fragrance."
A calm yet commanding voice cut through the tension.
The devas froze. Recognition flashed across their faces, and as if drawn by an unseen force, they turned in unison toward the source of that unmistakable presence.
Swish!
He stood before them.
On one hand, a Trishul gleamed with an otherworldly radiance. A damaru hung loosely from its shaft, its silent rhythm echoing in the very fabric of existence. His form, draped in the rugged skin of a tiger, exuded the raw, untamed power of calm, focus, and destruction.
Wild, matted locks cascaded over his shoulders, framing a face both serene and fearsome. His throat, deep blue as the Halahala, bore the mark of his divine sacrifice.
But most striking of all—at the center of his forehead—the Third Eye of Destruction remained ever-watchful, though firmly shut.
Mahadev Shiva had arrived.
Beside him stood the radiant Devi Parvati, her presence both noble and ethereal, her divine beauty unmatched.
"Pranam, Mahadev!"
"Pranam, Devi Parvati!"
One by one, the devas bowed in reverence, their voices rising in unison.
...
Even the celestial mount bowed its massive form, lowering to the ground in deference. The entire peak seemed to be still as Mahadev's sharp gaze locked onto the golden plate beneath the red cloth. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his presence alone commanding the attention of all.
Devi Parvati followed closely behind. A sense of unease rippled through the gathering.
Oh no… Does Mahadev intend to eat it too?! Shiva reached for the cloth.
Swish!
With a single effortless motion, the red veil lifted into the air.
BOOM!
A blinding golden light burst forth like a divine explosion, radiating in all directions. The devas gasped, instinctively shielding their eyes from its overwhelming brilliance.
But Shiva remained unfazed. He picked up the golden plate, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. Taking a handful of the sacred rice, he gently placed it into his mouth and closed his eyes.
At that moment—
A vision of Vishnu appeared before him. Mahadev's expression softened. A deep, indescribable warmth spread through him as he savored the celestial taste.
Beside him, Devi Parvati reached out. She plucked a single grain of rice between her slender fingers and placed it delicately upon her lips. The instant it touched her tongue, her eyes widened with joy, her brows lifting in sheer delight.
Before anyone could react—
The Amrita Bhojana was gone.
The devas stood frozen in shock.
Surya furrowed his brows. "The Amrita Bhojana… has vanished!" His radiant glow dimmed slightly in disbelief.
Vayu let out a low whistle. "Well… Mahadev certainly doesn't hesitate." He crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But what happens now?"
Rishi Dadhichi exhaled, shaking his head. "Fate moves in ways beyond our understanding. Indra remains in his meditation, and now… There is not even a grain left for him—or anyone else."
Soma paled, his usually luminous form flickering. "The Amirta bhojana… it looked so delicious. And yet, we did not even get a taste." His voice held a tinge of sorrow.
Narada Muni plucked at his veena, his tone half-amused, half-exasperated. "Hmm… Mahadev devours the Amrita Bhojana while the rest of us go hungry—truly, a cosmic jest!" He sighed dramatically. "Not a single grain left for the rest of us… what a tragedy!"
A murmur of unease—and disappointment—spread through the gathering.
But Shiva…
He was lost in the lingering taste of the divine meal.
Then—
Boom! Boom! Boom!
His body swayed. The sacred aroma still clung to the air, wrapping around him like an intoxicating melody. His arms lifted, his feet moved—instinctively, effortlessly.
Without hesitation—
Mahadev began to dance. The sky trembled.
The springs of Kailasha chimed like temple bells. The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves in rhythm. The very earth seemed to sing along, drawn into the divine pulse of his movements.
The devas stood in awe, transfixed.
This was not the Tandava of destruction, but the Ananda Nartanam, the Dance of Divine Bliss.
Figures emerged from Shiva's divine rhythm—some lifting their legs, others raising their arms, their heads tilting back in exaltation. One by one, they were drawn into the flow, surrendering to the celestial harmony.
Countless sacred winds—shimmering in shades of violet, pale gold, soft green, and deep aqua—spiraled upward, swirling through the vast sky like celestial ribbons.
"The Ananda Nartanam… The dance of joy!"
Parvati gazed toward the heavens, her voice filled with emotion.
When Shiva danced in rage, the world quaked. But when he danced in bliss, the cosmos itself rejoiced.
"To witness this… is to glimpse the heartbeat of creation itself." Rishi Dadhichi pressed his palms together in reverence, his voice trembling with awe.
"What a dance… a rhythm so pure, even time itself pauses to listen." Narada, his expression dazed with admiration, swayed slightly as if intoxicated by the sight.
The devas, too, stood spellbound, their eyes fixed upon Lord Shiva's divine movements.
And th, n the dance came to an end.
Silence fell.
Shiva's smile was serene, his presence radiant. The devas lifted their gaze toward the sky—toward something new. Shiva's expression brightened as his eyes landed upon a massive, snow-white boulder. A soft chuckle escaped him.
Atop the great stone—
Indra sat cross-legged, his posture steady. His eyes were downcast, brows slightly furrowed in deep contemplation.
But inwardly—
What just happened?!
A strange sensation lingered in his mind. Had he been so deep in meditation that he missed something extraordinary?
And just like that, he had woken up! Before he could make sense of it all, a familiar voice called out to him.
Shiva. His sacred right hand lifted toward the sky. "Indra!"
The devas stirred, their voices rising in a chorus.
"Indra! Indra! Indra!"
The echoes rang through Kailasha and Indra's ears.
---
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