The next day dawned bright over Rajgir, the capital of Magadha, as the royal family and citizens prepared for the grand celebration of Maha Shivaratri at the New Mahadev Mandir.
The palace halls echoed with the hustle of servants arranging silver trays laden with bilva leaves, fruits, and sweets for offerings, while maids strung fresh garlands of jasmine and lotus for the mandap.
Priests chanted preliminary mantras, their voices blending with the scent of sandalwood incense wafting through the corridors.
Bahubali, dressed in a pristine white dhoti and angavastram, oversaw the final touches with Dushala by his side, her saffron sari embroidered with gold threads.
In the guest quarters, the Hastinapur royals stirred, Dhritarashtra and Gandhari discussing the day's significance.
"This mandir, built by our son-in-law Bahubali, is a monument to Mahadev's grace," Gandhari said, her voice filled with devotion. "It will bring prosperity to Magadha and Hastinapur alike."
Dhritarashtra nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Indeed, Gandhari. Let us prepare—today, we honor Mahadev with our allies."
Duryodhana and Bhanumati, along with the Kaurava brothers, dressed in festive silks of crimson and gold, joined the Magadha family in the courtyard, where they helped load chariots with coconuts and ghee for the havan, their laughter lightening the sacred preparations.
Neighboring kings—Angaraj Karna with Vrushali, Kalinga Naresh with his retinue, and others from Dwarka, Indraprastha, and beyond—arrived directly at the temple, their chariots rolling through Rajgir's streets, where citizens waved colorful flags and chanted "Har Har Mahadev!"
By evening, the mandir's vast courtyard teemed with Brahmins from across Magadha, their white dhotis and sacred threads pristine, ready for the consecration rites.
As night fell, the celebrations ignited in full swing. Thousands of lamps illuminated the mandir's marble facade, its towering spires glowing like beacons under the starlit sky, casting a divine aura over the gathered crowd.
The royal family—Bahubali and Dushala leading the procession, followed by Dhritarashtra, Gandhari, Duryodhana, Bhanumati, the Kauravas, and Bahubali's parents—entered the temple amid the resounding blasts of conch shells and the rhythmic tolling of bells.
The priests, their faces lit by the havan fire, greeted them with folded hands, leading them to the sanctum for the consecration.
The ceremony began with the Ganesh Puja, invoking Lord Ganesha to remove obstacles. Bahubali and Dushala offered modakas and durva grass to a beautifully carved Ganesha idol, the head priest chanting, "Om Gan Ganapataye Namah," as the couple sprinkled ghee into the sacred fire, its flames dancing in the night breeze.
Next was the Abhishekam, where milk, honey, yogurt, ghee, and Ganga jal were poured over the Shiv Ling in a rhythmic flow, symbolizing purification and devotion.
The family joined, each pouring a ladleful while the priest recited, "Om Namah Shivaya," the holy liquids cascading over the Ling, filling the air with a sweet fragrance.
The Bilva Patra Archana followed, with each participant offering three bilva leaves to Shiva, representing the three gunas—sattva, rajas, and tamas.
Bahubali placed his leaves, murmuring, "Tridalam Trigunakaram," as the priest explained, "These leaves honor Mahadev's trinity—creation, preservation, and destruction."
Finally, the Aarti illuminated the sanctum, lamps circled before the Ling in clockwise motions, the family singing "Om Jai Jagdish Hare," their sacred chants uniting in harmonious devotion, the flames reflecting in their eyes as the pooja concluded.
With the pooja complete, festivities erupted throughout the night, transforming the mandir grounds into a vibrant carnival of devotion.
Dramas unfolded on a grand stage—first, scenes from the Ramayana, actors portraying Rama's exile, Sita's abduction, and Ravana's defeat, drawing cheers and tears from the crowd; then, tales of Shiva, like the churning of the Samudra Manthan where He drank the halahala poison to save the world, evoking gasps of awe and chants of "Har Har Mahadev!"
Dances swirled in circles—graceful Bharatanatyam depicting Parvati's tandava, with performers in flowing skirts mimicking the goddess's cosmic rhythm, and energetic folk garba honoring Shiva's nataraja form, where villagers and nobles alike clapped and twirled under the stars.
Scholars sang traditional bhajans like "Shiv Shankar Bhola Bhandari," their voices soaring with classical raga, while common folk performed rustic folk songs, their simple melodies accompanied by dholaks and harmoniums, inviting all to join in devotional clapping.
Guests mingled, savoring prasad—sweet pedas and halwa—sharing stories of Shiva's miracles, the air alive with laughter, unity, and reverence.
Amid the revelry, Duryodhana turned to Bahubali, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched the crowd's joy. "Bahu, your people adore you, and this temple is a marvel of devotion! But why don't you sing for them? Dushala tells me your voice is as enchanting as your archery—let your subjects see their king's talents extend beyond the battlefield, a ruler who masters the kalas with the same grace he wields his bow. It'll inspire them, show them Mahadev's spirit lives in their leader."
Dushala, beside him, nodded eagerly, her voice playful yet encouraging. "Yes, Swamy. Why don't you sing for them? Sing for Magadha—it'll show your heart, your devotion, and remind them you're not just a warrior king but a soul connected to Mahadev's rhythm. Please, my Swamy, for your people and for me, let your voice echo this sacred night."
Bahubali chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at his friends, his voice warm with affection. "Dury, your praise flatters me, but if it brings joy to my people and honors Mahadev on this auspicious night, I'll sing. But let's make it interesting—I'll perform as you ask, but afterward, you and your brothers must do as I direct. A small challenge to add fun to the festivities. Are you up for it, Yuvraj? No backing out, or the Kauravas' valor will be in question!"
Dushala and Bhanumati, seated nearby, giggled softly.
Dushala teased, "Oh, Bhaiya, what if Bahu asks you to dance? This will be entertaining!"
Bhanumati added, her voice light, "Swamy, show us your hidden talents—don't let Hastinapur down!"
Duryodhana's cheeks tinged pink, blushing as he composed himself, glancing at his brothers for support. "Bahu, you drive a hard bargain, but if you sing for this gathering and move their hearts, my brothers and I accept. We'll face your challenge head-on—let's see what you have in store!"
Bahubali nodded, grinning. "Done, mitra. The deal is sealed."
The herald, sensing the moment, announced with flourish, "Hear ye, people of Magadha and honored guests! Maharaj Bahubali will sing to honor Mahadev and express his love for his subjects on this auspicious Maha Shivaratri!"
Bahubali stepped to the center of the field, the crowd falling pin-drop silent, their faces illuminated by torches. He thanked them warmly, "Pranipat, my beloved people, kin, and allies from afar. Your presence blesses this consecration, a tribute to Mahadev who guides us all. In gratitude, I offer the hymn from my heart."
Facing the temple, he raised his hands in namaskar, took a deep breath, and intoned, "Om Namah Shivaya," the sacred mantra reverberating.
The audience stilled, and Bahubali began the Shiv Tandav Stotram, his voice deep and powerful:
"Jatatavigalajjala pravahapavitasthale
Galeavalambya lambitam bhujangatungamalikam
Chakara chandtandavam tanotu nah shivah shivam
Jata kata hasambhrama bhraman nillimp nirjhari
Vilolavichivalarai virajaman murdhani
Dhagadhagadhagajjva lalalata patta pavake
Kishora chandrashekhare ratih pratikshanam mama"
The melody wove a spell, evoking Shiva's cosmic dance, the Ganga's flow from His locks, and the moon's glow on His forehead. The crowd closed their eyes, lost in trance, hearts lifted to divine realms, the sacred night vibrating with spiritual ecstasy.