"Brother!" Vayu called, lifting his head high. His eyes burned with determination as his deep voice carried across the space.
"Brother!" Varuna's usual calm was shattered. His voice, sonorous and commanding, echoed as he locked eyes with Indra.
"Vayu! Varuna!"
Indra stepped forward, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. His gaze softened, shifting first to Vayu's youthful, fiery expression, then to Varuna's composed and serene demeanor.
"The next crucial task—the duty of bringing rain to the mortal realm—rests with you."
His voice was steady, yet brimming with authority. Slowly, Indra withdrew his hands and extended them before him, palms upward. Lightning flickered across his fingers, twisting and coiling like serpents.
Boom!
Boom!
Thunder exploded from his hands, rolling through the skies of Svarga.
Vayu and Varuna gasped, their eyes widening in awe as two radiant maces materialized before them—a sky-blue mace, shimmering with black clouds, and a dark-red mace, crackling with thunde clouds.
"Vṛṣṭi...Duṣkarṣa..." Vayu murmured, his voice tinged with wonder.
The brothers reached out solemnly, each grasping a divine artifact. As their hands met the maces, the sound of thunder erupted once more, reverberating across the skies and shaking the earth below.
Indra smiled faintly, the weight of his role evident in his expression. Relief mingled with pride as he watched his younger brothers accept their burdens.
Vayu's excitement was palpable; his breaths came sharp and quick like gusts of wind. Varuna, in contrast, held his mace with a calm determination, his face resolute as if already bracing for the monumental responsibility ahead.
"I will begin my penance now," Indra said, tilting his head back, his tone solemn but resolute. "Svarga will depend on you."
"Do not worry, Brother," Vayu declared, his voice steady despite his excitement.
"We will ensure your return is met with triumph," Varuna added, his tone low but unwavering.
The three exchanged a lingering gaze, an unspoken understanding passing between them. This was not merely a farewell; it was a vow. They were entrusting each other with their lives, their duties, and the future of the world.
Indra turned slowly, his broad, muscular back the last thing visible as he prepared to depart.
"Where will you go to perform your penance?!"
Vayu's voice rang out, cutting through the heavy silence.
Both Vayu and Varuna stood frozen, their eyes locked on Indra's tall, imposing figure. Their expressions wavered between anticipation and fear as if drawing strength from the sight of their elder brother.
"Kailash," Indra replied, his voice low but resonant, his head tilting slightly forward.
Kailash... Kailash... Kailash...
The name echoed like a divine mantra, and almost immediately, a low rumble of thunder emanated from his body. Lightning crackled wildly around him as dense clouds and swirling mists engulfed him in an instant.
When the mist dissipated, Indra was gone.
Vayu and Varuna stepped out of the palace, their eyes fixed on the heavens. They gazed at the vast, distant sky, their hearts heavy with respect and determination.
Go and perform penance for the Devas!
As expected of Big Brother!
Even in departure, he had not forgotten to bestow upon them the precious artifacts of rainfall. Compassionate, wise, and endlessly generous—that was their brother.
High above the sea of clouds, Indra shrugged his shoulders and brought a hand to his face. A mischievous grin broke free, and before he could stop himself, he burst out laughing.
"Haha! Hmm… Hahaha!" He chuckled deeply, his voice rolling like thunder through the skies.
"Those three fools in Patalaloka aren't to be underestimated. If I stayed back and waited in Svarga, I'd have been defeated sooner or later. Better to retreat now—call it a tactical escape out of respect for their boons!"
His laughter continued as the weight of responsibility lifted from his shoulders. "I can finally leave Svarga!"
His mood lightened further, and the corners of his mouth curled upward. Even when he managed to stop laughing, his lips stayed pressed in an amused smirk.
The wide seas for diving, the skies for soaring—it's my time to move freely once more.
Kailash awaited him, the sacred mountain where no force could hinder his penance.
He thought back to recent events, a faint sigh escaping his lips. His strength had dwindled, much of it consumed by past exertions. Back in Vaikuntha, he had expended a significant amount of his energy cursing Narada. That meddling muni's misdeeds had forced his hand, and even a minor curse had drained him.
"Ah, Narada," Indra muttered, shaking his head. "That curse was justified—he violated dharma and fled the battlefield. Still, my strength shouldn't have been so easily taxed."
The realization weighed on him. His penance had been insufficient. His strength, though formidable, was no longer at its peak.
"I must try to do a harder penance at Kailash," he resolved. "There's no room for complacency!"
Determined, Indra moved like the wind, streaking across the skies in a flash. As he soared, he looked down upon the majestic Mandala Mountain and the vast, sprawling expanse of the four continents—east, west, north, and south.
Kailash awaits, he thought, his resolve solidifying.
The skies stretched infinitely before him, and Indra felt a thrill of freedom, as though the universe itself was urging him onward.
At this time, the seven continents were gradually returning to life.
From high above, the land below unfolded like a vivid tapestry. Majestic mountains stretched toward the sky, green trees swayed gently in the wind, and even the wild weeds seemed to hum with vitality. Life thrived everywhere—humans, beasts, Yakshas, Rakshasas, and countless other creatures lived and flourished, filling the land with an energy that was impossible to ignore.
Indra gazed down at this vibrant scene, his heart stirring with a rare sense of awe.
"The earth... it has almost fully recovered," he murmured.
A sudden thought crossed his mind, a memory that brought a faint smile to his lips.
"It's been a long time since I've seen Devi Bhumi," he mused. "Her dance... it was mesmerizing."
Nostalgia flickered in his chest. Perhaps when there's time, I'll visit her once more, he thought. With that, he steadied himself, his form shimmering as he shot forward, slicing through space like a radiant streak of light.
Whoosh!
Breaking through layers of space, Indra emerged as a breathtaking sight. Before him stood a range of snow-capped peaks, their grandeur unmatched.
The mountains rose with an otherworldly majesty, their presence exuding a divine, unshakable sanctity. The sunlight, brilliant though it was, seemed pale compared to the radiance emanating from the mountains themselves. The pure and flawless glow of the peaks was unparalleled.
This was no ordinary place.
The abode of Shiva. A sacred haven for ascetics. Kailash.
"Finally," Indra said softly as he descended, his feet touching the snow-dusted ground.
Standing at the base of the holy mountains, he pressed his hands together in a gesture of reverence, bowing slightly.
"Om Namah Shivaya!"
"Om Shree Matre Namah."
His voice was calm, steady, and imbued with quiet reverence. A faint smile graced his lips as he straightened, his resolve unshaken, and stepped forward. As Indra advanced, the very air seemed to bow to his presence, yet it carried a foreboding weight—a testament to the sanctity of the place he was approaching.
The once-pristine atmosphere began to shift, the skies dimming as if the heavens themselves were veiling their light in deference. The earth beneath his feet changed, transforming from lush, green life to barren desolation. The ground cracked and crumbled into a wasteland where jagged, dry trees clawed skyward, reminiscent of Asuras' hands reaching for salvation. Fires smoldered in scattered patches, their embers consuming the earth with an eerie hunger.
A blanket of bone-white ash coated the ground, whispering tales of both destruction and renewal. This was no ordinary place—this was the Mahashmashana, the great cremation ground, where life and death intertwined in an eternal cycle. Here, bodies were burned and returned to the elements, a sacred act reminding all of life's impermanence.
Amid the ashes, figures moved with purpose and devotion. Their bodies were smeared with sacred ash, their faces serene and detached from worldly concerns. These were Shiva's chosen—the Aghoris and ascetics who renounced all attachments, embracing the ultimate truth of existence. Their chants resonated with the power of cosmic understanding, carrying the essence of Shiva's eternal dance of creation and destruction.
Indra's gaze softened as he observed them. With a slight nod of respect, he acknowledged their presence, for even the King of the Devas recognized the divinity in their devotion.
Without breaking his stride, he moved through the surreal and haunting landscape. His expression remained composed, his focus unwavering. The weight of the place could unnerve even the mightiest of beings, yet Indra pressed on.
Beyond this sacred ground, where life dissolved into ash, the ultimate destination awaited.
Kailash.
With measured, steady steps, Indra moved forward. His gaze sharpened as the atmosphere shifted subtly around him. Passing through a veil of space, he reappeared in an instant, now standing at the base of the towering, snow-capped mountains.
Kailash!
Indra tilted his head upward slightly, clasping his hands together in reverence.
The domain of Shiva.
Though the sanctity of the place demanded respect, Indra had not come here to meet the great ascetic. His purpose was clear—he sought penance, not an audience. There was no need to climb further up the sacred peak.
Resolute, he turned toward a nearby jungle nestled beside the mountains.
The forest was a vision of natural beauty. Towering trees stretched toward the heavens, their canopies thick and vibrant, interwoven with patches of green grass and colorful wildflowers. The air was alive with a serene energy, a fitting retreat for seekers of enlightenment.
As Indra ventured deeper into the jungle, his keen eyes caught sight of figures clad in dark red robes—Rishis engaged in their rigorous ascetic practices.
"Pranam King of Svarga!"
"Pranam Indra!"
The Rishis, startled by his unexpected arrival, quickly recovered and bowed, their hands pressed together in reverence. Their voices carried a mix of awe and surprise.
"Pranam Rishis!" Indra replied with a gentle smile, returning the gesture of respect. His tone was warm, devoid of arrogance.
"I seek Rishi Dadhichi," he continued. "Is he present?"
The Rishis exchanged brief glances, still somewhat taken aback by the humility of the celestial king. This was not the domineering figure they had heard about in the legends. Instead, he exuded wisdom and grace—an Indra more akin to the noble hero sung of in the Vedas.
"Yes, Rishi Dadhichi is here," one of them finally said, gesturing further into the ashram.
Indra inclined his head in gratitude. "Thank you."
This was an ashram, a revered sanctuary where Shiva's devoted Rishis dedicated themselves to ascetic practices. And Rishi Dadhichi, the esteemed leader of this group, was exactly the person Indra sought.
With a respectful salute, Indra continued on his way, his steps unhurried but purposeful.
His goal was clear: to request Sage Dadhichi's guidance in finding an ideal spot for his penance. A large, flat rock in an open area would suffice—preferably one bathed in sunlight. Indra's lips curled into a faint smile as he imagined it.
A perfect place to hone my spirit under the watchful gaze of Kailashpatinath.
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