"It's worth it if you can taste even a single grain of rice!" Agni swallowed his saliva, eyes locked onto the covered plate. The rich aroma of the divine meal teased his senses, making his stomach churn with anticipation.
"How about a taste?" he suggested his voice barely above a whisper.
"The King of Svarga shouldn't mind. We are all good brothers, after all," Vayu chimed in, his gaze shifting between the plate and the others.
Surya hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides. His golden eyes darted toward the plate, then back at the gathering of devas.
"Hmm... Just one bite. Only one!"
Narada Muni grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes as he hugged his veena close. His tongue flicked across his lips before he added, "I want to taste it too! Hurry, open it!"
"If we each take a small bite, no one will notice," Vayu said, glancing around conspiratorially.
The devas looked at one another, hesitation giving way to shared understanding.
And then—
In an instant, they moved as one, closing in on the plate like a pack of starved wolves.
"Airavata, go wait outside! I'll give you a bite later!"
Vayu shoved the great white elephant aside before he could protest and squeezed himself into the circle of devas.
Airavata blinked his large, watery eyes in confusion. With a deep, rumbling "Rrrrmmphh…", he extended his trunk, trying to slip it past the devas.
But before he could reach the dish, they blocked him with practiced ease.
"Brrrrrraaoooohhh!" Airavata let out a loud, frustrated trumpet, his ears flapping wildly. He stomped his massive foot, the ground trembling beneath him.
With a desperate "Hruuummph! Pwaaaaargh!", he tried again, his trunk writhing in determination. But once more, the devas held their ground.
Airavata huffed loudly, curling his trunk in disappointment. He let out a long, sorrowful "Hrrrrooooooo…," his deep, guttural groan echoing like a distant thundercloud.
Finally, he slumped down slightly, his enormous shoulders sagging. A final, pitiful "Brrrrrrmm…" escaped him, filled with unspoken longing and tragic defeat.
Surya stretched out his hand, his fingers brushing against the red cloth covering the plate. The moment he tugged—
Nothing happened.
Frowning, he pulled again, harder this time. But the cloth refused to move, as though the weight of the heavens itself pinned it down.
A hush fell over the group. Shock flashed across the faces of the assembled devas. Surya, second only to Indra, the King of Svarga, narrowed his eyes.
"Everyone, step back!" he commanded, his voice filled with authority.
His golden aura flared as he gathered the blazing essence of the sun into his palm. Light condensed into a fiery sphere as if a second sun had been summoned to Svarga. With a powerful swing, he unleashed the solar energy at the plate—
Blinding golden flames engulfed the red cloth. The heat rippled across the skies, making even the air tremble under its intensity. The divine brilliance scorched the ground beneath them, illuminating the devas with a fiery glow.
And yet—
The moment the golden light touched the red cloth, it vanished. Extinguished in an instant. The cloth remained utterly still, untouched, unaffected.
Surya's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Impossible! My flames can incinerate the seas, melt the hardest metals, and reduce mountains to dust. How could they be snuffed out so easily!"
The devas exchanged uneasy glances.
Stepping forward, the Varuna rolled his shoulders, his expression calm but determined. "Let me try."
Without hesitation, he raised his hands and pressed them firmly against the cloth, summoning the relentless force of water—
Boom!
The land trembled as a torrent of water surged skyward, an unstoppable force carrying the might to drown both Svarga and the mortal realm. The blackened waves swelled like an unholy deluge, blotting out the sun and sky as they surged toward the red cloth.
For a moment, it seemed as if nothing could withstand the overwhelming flood—
And then—
With a single ripple, the red cloth fluttered ever so slightly.
The water vanished. Not dissipated. Not absorbed. Simply gone, as if the flood had never existed in the first place.
"How?!"
Varuna stood frozen, his trident trembling in his grip. His mind reeled. This was impossible. His divine waters could carve valleys, drown cities, and erode even the hardest of stones. Yet now—nothing. Not even a single drop remained.
His breath caught in his throat. "No way… I—I wield the endless ocean, the tides that shape the world! How can mere cloth—?" His voice trailed off, swallowed by the heavy silence that followed.
A gust of wind stirred, carrying embers in its wake.
"Enough stalling, Varuna!" Vayu's voice cut through the air, sharp as the storm he commanded. His robes billowed as he strode forward, eyes blazing with resolve. "We will not be bested by a mere piece of fabric!"
"Agreed," Agni growled, tightening his grip on his staff. His body radiated scorching heat, the air around him shimmering with divine flames. "If water cannot touch it, then let us see how it fares against the combination of wind and fire!"
Divine power surged. The very air crackled with intensity.
A towering inferno exploded forth—a fiery tornado, blazing hot enough to incinerate the very fabric of reality. From within its depths, a colossal flaming naga emerged, coiling and writhing, its molten fangs bared as it roared. With a final, furious lunge, it shot toward the red cloth.
Zsssss
The naga vanished. Gone in an instant. All that remained was a faint wisp of blue smoke, curling into the air.
The plate beneath the cloth trembled slightly. Then, as if mockingly responding to their efforts, the aroma of the Amrita Bhojana intensified, its rich, intoxicating scent filling the air, making the devas' mouths water.
Boom!
Silence fell.
The devas stood motionless, stunned into speechlessness.
They had failed.
They had thrown the full force of their celestial might against the red cloth—and it hadn't even budged.
"Tch...!" Narada Muni blinked, then sighed, clapping his hands together with a wry smile. "Looks like the Devi Lakshmi was prepared for this. We won't be getting a taste after all." He shook his head in mock regret before grinning. "Well, no use crying over it! Let's go to Kailasha. At least we can still get some leftovers!"
One by one, the devas sighed in frustration, their shoulders slumping. Accepting their defeat, they turned away and took to the skies, flying toward Kailasha in resignation.
Their grand attempt had ended in utter failure. The red cloth remained—unshaken, untouchable.
And the Amrita Bhojana beneath it? Still waiting, untouched, its divine aroma lingering in the air like a silent taunt.
…
Kailasha.
The sacred mountains stood tall, their peaks piercing the heavens, shrouded in mist and divine energy. Within this celestial realm, Shiva and Parvati walked side by side, their steps slow and unhurried, as if time itself bowed before them.
Not far behind, Nandi, the sacred bull, followed faithfully, his large eyes brimming with devotion. A gentle smile adorned his face, never once looking away from his beloved Mahadev and Devi.
Wow!
Without warning, tiny raindrops began to fall, cascading from the sky in a gentle, glistening sheet.
Parvati gasped softly, her eyes widening in surprise. She stretched out her delicate hand, letting the cool droplets gather in her palm.
Rain? In Kailasha?
It never rained here. And even if it did, they had nothing to fear from it. But that wasn't the point—
Something felt different.
"Oh, my Dev!"
Parvati turned to Shiva, her beautiful face lighting up with playful excitement. With a sudden, impassioned movement, she pressed herself into his arms, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.
"What should we do if it rains? Should we go home?"
Her pink lips parted slightly as she spoke, her usual cool and regal demeanor melting into something softer—more mischievous. She clung to him, acting coquettish, teasing in a way only she could.
Shiva chuckled, his expression calm and knowing as if he had already unraveled the mystery behind the sudden downpour.
Gently, he wrapped an arm around Parvati.
Uh-huh!
In an instant, the world around them shifted. Space twisted, the mountains and rain fading away—
And when the light cleared, they were standing high above the clouds. A vast sea of vibrant, swirling colors stretched endlessly beneath them, shimmering like a celestial dream.
Here, no rain could reach them.
Shiva smiled. "There will be no rain here."
Parvati blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
Then, her gaze flickered downward, her brow furrowing slightly.
"The rain… It was caused by Airavata." Her voice was softer now, the playful edge giving way to something more contemplative.
Shiva followed her gaze, his own eyes steady. "The devas have come to Kailasha. They seek their king, Indra."
Parvati's expression cooled. Her gaze shifted, sharp and knowing, toward the place of Indra's penance. And yet—
The very next moment, a new sensation interrupted their thoughts.
A rich, intoxicating aroma drifted through the air, curling around them like an invisible whisper. Both Shiva and Parvati inhaled, their noses twitching slightly— Their eyes flickered.
…
At last, the devas laid eyes upon the King they had longed for.
"Indra!"
Surya stood at the forefront, holding the sacred meal in his hands. His radiant gaze locked onto the figure resting upon the massive rock before them—Indra, King of Svarga.
"Brrrrrraaoooohhh!" Airavata, the mighty, white elephant, lifted his head proudly, raising his long, elegant trunk. A powerful cry echoed from his throat, ringing through the skies like the call of a great conch shell, its resonance stretching endlessly into the distance.
Varuna took a step forward, his brows furrowed. "King of Svarga, awaken!" His voice carried the weight of the sun itself. "Your kingdom—your home—has fallen!"
Vayu, the swift wind god, stepped forward, his robes billowing as he called out, "Big Brother Indra! The Asuras have seized Svarga!
Agni's fiery eyes softened. "You are not just our King—you are our elder brother. If you do not rise, then who shall?"The voices of the devas rang in unison, their praise filling the air.
Yet—
Indra's eyes did not stir. He lay still upon the great rock, unmoving, as if he were a part of Kailasha Mountain itself—steadfast, unshaken, inviolable.
Not a flicker of response.
Indra rested on his side, one arm propped beneath his head, his face serene. His eyes remained closed, his expression utterly relaxed, a faint smile lingering at the corners of his lips—completely untouched by worry, sorrow, or the fervent calls of his kin.
"The King of Svarga must have fallen into deep meditation. Awakening him… will not be easy." A calm yet knowing voice broke through the reverent silence. The devas turned.
Stepping forward was Rishi Dadhichi.
Draped in simple red robes, he carried a wooden staff, his pace slow, deliberate. His weathered eyes studied Indra carefully. As an ascetic, he understood this state of profound meditation all too well. Such a trance was not easily broken.
"Rishivar, we need to awaken the King of Svarga! "Svarga has fallen into the hands of the Asuras. They have taken our halls, our lands—our very home. Without Indra, we cannot defeat them."
Surya's voice was firm, unwavering. He raised the sacred offering high, the golden plate gleaming in the divine light.
"The Devi Lakshmi has bestowed upon us the Amrita Bhojana. Surely, this will awaken him!"
At these words, Dadichi's gaze shifted. His sharp eyes fell upon the golden plate in Surya's hands.
His nostrils flared slightly—
A rich, divine fragrance surged toward him, hitting his very soul like a wave of celestial power. His expression wavered. Could this truly awaken Indra?
BOOM!
At that moment, it felt as if something had struck his very soul.
Dadichi's expression shifted rapidly, as though his mind was being bombarded from within—shock, awe, disbelief, and a hint of reverence flickered across his face in rapid succession.
His once-calm eyes widened, trembling with newfound realization. "The… Amrita Bhojana?!"
His voice quivered, barely above a whisper. "A meal this divine… I fear not even the most disciplined ascetics could resist its power."
Dadichi's words sent a ripple through the gathered devas and Narada muni. Their confidence swelled.
Excitement flickered in their eyes. Smiles crept onto their faces. Perhaps… just perhaps… this offering could awaken the King of Svarga! And if they were lucky—maybe they could even partake in the feast!
BOOM!
The golden plate was gently placed upon the massive stone.
The devas and saints pressed their hands together in prayer, their gazes locked onto Indra, their hearts filled with solemn anticipation.
Yet—
Indra remained unchanged. His peaceful smile lingered, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. But then—
His eyelids twitched. His eyes rolled beneath them, as though he had slipped deeper into his slumber. He was dreaming. Inside the Dream
A golden plate, its radiant wings fluttering, drifted toward him, gliding through the dreamscape like a celestial offering.
Indra gazed at the single golden plate before him, his smirk fading into a frown. The dal, chaval, puris, and fruits sat neatly arranged, glowing with divine purity, yet—
"Just one plate?"
His golden brows furrowed, and he tapped his fingers against his arm in irritation.
"Am I not Indra, King of Svarga?"
His voice rang with both amusement and disbelief.
"A single plate of food? This is the meal of a hermit, not a king! Do they expect me to sit cross-legged like a mortal, content with a bowl of rice and lentils?"
A scoff left his lips. "No, no, this isn't right. "I was… meditating. I know what's happening here." A slow smirk returned to his face as he realized the truth.
"This is a dream." His eyes gleamed with playful defiance. "And if it's a dream, then I refuse to settle for this! I am Indra! I feast like a king, not a mortal!" A single thought pulsed through his mind, his will shaping the very fabric of the dream.
Chhappan Bhog!
WHOOSH!
The golden plate trembled, its edges blurring—then, as if answering his call, a grand banquet appeared before him.
Fifty-six dishes, each plated in bowls of shimmering gold, spread out in an endless feast. Fragrant saffron-infused rice sat alongside delicately spiced vegetable curries, golden-fried puris stacked high, and creamy, fragrant kheer. An array of sweets—laddoos, pedas, malpua, and syrup-soaked jalebis—glistened with honey and ghee. Fresh fruits, cooling yogurt-based dishes, and rich makhan mishri completed the celestial offering, truly fit for a king.
Indra leaned back, satisfied. "Now, this is more like it."
With a contented sigh, he picked up a silver spoon, ready to indulge in his well-deserved royal feast.
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