King of Devas

The eyes of the Devas sparkled with awe, their attention drawn to the shimmering lake before them. Water sprayed gracefully from Airavata's mighty proboscis, cascading into the lake below. Each droplet reflected a kaleidoscope of colors, creating a dazzling Indradhanush that seemed almost otherworldly.

"Airavata!" Agni called out, their voice echoing with reverence.

Airavata let out a powerful, resonant trumpet, an exciting cry that reverberated across the landscape.

"Snow-white and flawless, majestic and proud~"

"The king of elephants, the Airavata~"

With a serene smile gracing his face, Rishi Brihaspati stepped forward, arms spread wide. A layered hymn poured forth from his lips, rich with melody and devotion, as he approached the magnificent creature.

Airavata tilted his massive head, his keen, intelligent eyes scanning the Devas curiously. A soft, questioning rumble escaped him, blending with the music in the air.

Thud! Thud!

The rhythmic sound of steps followed as Vayu and Varuna moved forward, their strides purposeful. Their voices joined the hymn, harmonizing in perfect unity.

"The mount of Indra, King of Svarga, unparalleled ruler of all beasts, clad in white~"

"Caller of storms, bringer of rain, conqueror of all~"

"Airavata~ Airavata!"

As the two Devas advanced side by side, divine light flashed in their hands. A shimmering golden shawl appeared, its surface glinting with celestial brilliance. With a graceful motion, they flung it into the air. The golden cloth floated gently before descending onto Airavata's broad, powerful back, cloaking him in regal splendor.

Surya and Agni stepped forward, their voices joining the growing chorus.

"What a majestic white elephant, drawing thunder and lightning with every step~"

"King of Elephants! Airavata~ Airavata!"

Surya raised his hands to the heavens, and beams of sunlight coalesced into a shower of golden marigolds. The flowers rained down in celebration, their petals glimmering like fragments of pure sunlight.

Agni, not to be outdone, conjured a burst of vibrant flames. The fire transformed into fine red powder, which swirled and danced in the air before settling like a veil over Airavata's form. The elephant's pristine white body now bore a brilliant blush of red, the colors blending harmoniously.

Yellow flowers bloomed and red powder fluttered through the air, creating a scene of unmatched beauty.

Ah-choo!

Airavata sneezed, curling his long trunk in a playful display, his mighty cry echoing once more. The Devas laughed in delight, their song swelling as they celebrated the king of elephants, the mount of their beloved Indra.

Rishi Brihaspati stepped lightly across the rippling surface of the lake, each step creating gentle waves that radiated outward. He approached Airavata with a serene expression, holding a jeweled gold circlet aloft in both hands. As he reached the majestic elephant, he carefully placed the ring upon Airavata's broad head and continued his hymn with unwavering devotion.

"The radiant light of Airavata brings forth clouds and rain," he sang, his voice resonating with divine energy.

"The roar of this sacred elephant shakes the skies, commanding the awe of all living beings. Born of the churning of the ocean of milk, the auspicious Airavata embodies wisdom beyond the reach of even three heads~"

"Airavata~"

The Devas joined in unison, their voices a harmonious chorus that filled the air.

"Airavata!!!"

Enraptured by the hymn of the Rishis and Devas, Airavata's spirit soared. His hind legs kicked with excitement, and he lifted his front legs high, his massive frame radiating power and grace. With a triumphant cry, he raised his head, trumpeting an earth-shaking call that sent water splashing in all directions.

"Airavata!" the Devas exclaimed joyfully, their faces alight with admiration.

As the hymn faded, the Devas gathered around Airavata, their expressions warm and encouraging.

"Airavata!" Surya said, stepping forward with a kind smile. "You are the embodiment of purity, nobility, and flawlessness—a symbol of the King of Svarga's power over clouds and rain."

Another Deva added, "We now face a daunting challenge, one only you can overcome."

"We have faith in you Airavata," said Rishi Brihaspati, his tone solemn yet reassuring.

Airavata tilted his massive head, flapping his great ears in contemplation. His large, intelligent eyes brimmed with curiosity and uncertainty. His rumbling voice seemed to echo in the air, carrying a note of doubt as he glanced at the gathered Devas.

But as the light of their encouragement surrounded him, the doubts in Airavata's heart began to waver.

…

Kailash.

Shiva sat in his eternal stillness, one foot resting on the ground and the other folded atop his knee, maintaining his meditative posture. His gaze was serene as he nodded slightly, acknowledging the distant efforts of the Adityas.

"The Devas have found their path," Shiva said, his voice a deep, resonant echo that carried the weight of the universe. "Indra can continue his penance."

As the guardian of ascetics, Lord Shiva's divine presence radiated a calm strength. It was said that those who harmed an ascetic risked invoking his fearsome wrath, a truth etched into the lore of the cosmos.

Standing nearby, Nandi, Shiva's loyal mount, watched his Lord with unshakable reverence. Yet, there was a flicker of curiosity on the sacred bull's face. His ears twitched slightly as he tilted his head, hands clasped together in an expression of devotion.

"Mahadev," Nandi began hesitantly, his voice filled with wonder, "Will Indra also undergo the trials of rigorous penance? He never seems to suffer the way ascetics do."

Shiva lowered his gaze to meet Nandi's questioning eyes. A soft smile played on his lips, as timeless and inscrutable as the mountain itself.

"Nandi," Shiva said, his voice gentle yet profound, "do you find joy in your dedication to me?"

"Of course, my Lord!" Nandi replied without hesitation, his voice ringing with sincerity.

Shiva's smile widened, a fleeting yet radiant gesture that seemed to hold the secrets of creation. He said nothing more, lowering his foot to the ground. Slowly, he stood, the movement graceful and unhurried, as if time itself bowed to his presence.

"It's time to gather flowers for Parvati," Shiva said with a light chuckle, his tone warm and tender.

With that, he stepped off the stone platform and began walking toward the lush groves of Kailash. Nandi remained behind, his expression contemplative as he watched his Lord depart. The question lingered in his mind, unanswered yet somehow comforting, a fragment of wisdom carried on the winds of Kailash.

...

Svarga

The realm of Svarga stretched out in magnificent splendor. Palaces adorned the landscape, each more resplendent than the last, and terraces formed in perfect symmetry sprawled like a divine tapestry. Towering spires, dark and square, pierced the heavens, their dim light casting long shadows across the sacred ground.

"Teacher!"

Hiranyakashipu's voice cut through the stillness, sharp and impatient. His brow furrowed deeply as he turned to face Rishi Shukracharya, frustration bubbling to the surface. "When do you think Indra will appear?"

His patience had worn thin, eroded by the relentless passage of years. Too much time had been wasted chasing Indra, and yet, he had not even glimpsed his foe.

Rishi Shukracharya, ever composed, met his student's ire with calm detachment. "What's the hurry?" he replied, his tone steady. "He will come soon."

Hiranyakashipu ground his teeth, suppressing his growing irritation. His fists clenched tightly, veins visible beneath his skin as he fought to rein in his temper.

Then, from the distant horizon, a dark cloud emerged. It churned and billowed, blotting out the light as fierce winds howled across the skies. Moist raindrops began to fall, soaking the earth below, heralding a presence of immense power.

"He's coming!" Rishi Shukracharya's eyes narrowed, his voice cold and calculating. "Indra is finally here."

"Indra!" Hiranyakashipu hissed, his golden, slitted eyes gleaming with anticipation as he covered his face with his hands. The faint tremor in his voice betrayed a joy akin to that of a farmer awaiting a bountiful harvest.

THOOM! A thunderous roar broke through the storm, reverberating across Svarga.

"That sound—it's Indra's mount!" Shukracharya said, his voice sharp with certainty.

Ecstasy surged through Hiranyakashipu. His fingers flexed and uncurled as visions of triumph danced in his mind. He thought of how he would crush Indra, forcing the King of Svarga to kneel before him.

The dark clouds thickened, crackling with divine energy. And then, a flash of white illuminated the heavens.

"He's here!" Hiranyakashipu's voice was a low growl, his eyes wide with anticipation.

From the swirling storm emerged a colossal figure—a three-headed Airavata, its majestic form shimmering with celestial brilliance. Its heads were adorned with intricate golden chains, and its vast body was draped in flowing divine satin. Massive legs, sturdy as mountains, were encircled with golden anklets that jingled as they moved. 

"Airavata alone?" Hiranyakashipu muttered, his excitement faltering as he frowned. His gaze swept the surroundings, his divine energy probing for the unmistakable aura of Indra.

But there was nothing.

"No... This can't be," he murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. "Where is Indra?" His frustration ignited into searing anger, a fire that blazed within his chest. His gaze locked onto the three-headed Airavata, watching as the divine beast descended toward the mortal world.

With effortless grace, Airavata extended its trunk, spraying water like a living fountain. The droplets shimmered as they fell, transforming akin to Amrita, the nectar of immortality, blessing humanity below with much-needed rain.

Then, as though satisfied with its work, Airavata turned and ascended once more, vanishing into the black clouds that had birthed it.

Hiranyakashipu stood rooted to the spot, his fists trembling at his sides. Fury consumed him, his rage an unquenchable inferno. "Indra..." he growled, his voice low and venomous. "Why aren't you here?"

The skies offered no answer, only the faint echoes of Airavata's departure lingering in the wind.

"What a clever King," Rishi Shukracharya remarked, his voice calm yet tinged with an undertone of respect. His eyes narrowed as he spoke. "I'm afraid he has already guessed that we're waiting for him. This Airavata—it's the bait he's dangled before us, a calculated temptation."

Hiranyakashipu's rage boiled over. His teeth clenched so tightly it seemed as if they might grind the heavens and earth together, producing a harsh, grating sound. The thought of Indra's cunning filled him with a burning desire to rip the King of Svarga apart.

"So treacherous!" he spat, his words laced with venom. "What do we do now, Teacher?"

Rishi Shukracharya remained unflustered. Turning slowly, he fixed his student with a steady gaze. "I'm afraid we have no choice but to wait," he replied in a deep, measured tone.

"Wait?"

Hiranyakashipu's face darkened further. The very idea seemed to weigh on him like a storm cloud. His fists trembled with barely contained fury as he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Then wait, we shall!" His voice rose, fierce and unrelenting. "If he makes me wait for five hundred years, I will wait for five hundred years! If it takes a thousand years, I will endure a thousand years! And if he dares to make me wait for ten thousand years, I will wait for ten thousand years! Indra!"

He bellowed the name as if it had become a sacred chant, his obsession etched into every syllable. "Indra!" The word tore from his throat, echoing with a ferocity that shook the air.

Rishi Shukracharya observed his disciple with a furrowed brow. Most would dismiss Hiranyakashipu's claims as mere hyperbole, but the wise sage knew better. Hiranyakashipu was not like most men.

The stubbornness that defined him was both his strength and his curse. Once he set his sights on something, no force in the cosmos could deter him. His determination was as unyielding as the mountains themselves.

"Alas," Shukracharya sighed, a shadow of pity crossing his usually impassive face. "I only hope you can endure this wait."

With those parting words, the sage turned and walked away, his steps measured and deliberate. In his heart, he carried a gnawing concern—Hiranyakashipu's obstinate nature would not lead him to a peaceful end.

Yet Hiranyakashipu heard none of it. He remained rooted to the spot, his fiery gaze fixed on the horizon. The storm within him raged on, his singular purpose consuming him utterly.

He would wait. No matter how long it took, no matter the toll it exacted, Hiranyakashipu would stand steadfast, his eyes burning with the promise of vengeance. Until the day Indra appeared, he would do nothing else.

For Hiranyakashipu, waiting was not a delay—it was a declaration of his unbreakable will.

Time flies like the wind, indifferent to mortal concerns. The sun and moon rose in the east and set in the west, marking the passing of days that stretched into years. In the blink of an eye, three hundred years had passed.

The place where Hiranyakashipu once stood had transformed into a towering high platform. Draped from the canopy above were cascading curtains of pearl and gold, shimmering like captured sunlight. At the center, a grand golden throne stood resplendent. On either side, Asura women wielded delicate peacock feather fans, their movements gentle and rhythmic as they attended the sovereign seated above them.

Hiranyakashipu reclined on his throne, his powerful hands gripping its gilded arms. His golden, vertical eyes remained fixed on the sky above, unblinking, unwavering. He was waiting, like a hunter poised in silence, patient yet deadly.

For over three hundred years, Hiranyakashipu had barely left this spot. His palace, his kingdom, even his family—his wife, his son—all were distant echoes, secondary to the singular purpose that consumed him. He lived only for one thing: to see Indra again and exact his vengeance.

But today, an unexpected disturbance broke the monotonous passage of time.

"Rajan!"

A voice pierced the serene stillness. An Asura soldier hurried up the steps of the high platform, his armor glinting dully in the ambient light.

"Speak quickly!" Hiranyakashipu growled, his eyes never leaving the skies.

"An ill-omened report, my lord. Someone is offering yajanas for Devas and Vishnu!"

Hiranyakashipu waved his hand dismissively, irritation flickering across his face. "If someone dares to perform such trivial acts, kill them and be done with it. Do not waste my time!"

The soldier hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under his lord's gaze.

"But... it is the prince, my lord. It is Prahlada, your son."

At that name, Hiranyakashipu froze. Slowly, his gaze dropped from the skies, a dangerous light gleaming in his eyes. His focus turned to the soldier, the air around him seeming to thrum with a foreboding energy.

"What did you say?" His voice was low and menacing, like the growl of a beast lurking beneath the earth.

The Asura soldier visibly trembled, struggling to meet Hiranyakashipu's gaze. "Y-yes, my lord. The prince... the prince is offering yajanas and singing hymns."

"To whom?"

Hiranyakashipu's question was a command, sharp and cold as the edge of a blade. The soldier's knees buckled slightly under the weight of his king's fury.

"To... Indra and Vishnu," the soldier stammered, the words barely escaping his trembling lips.

The air around Hiranyakashipu seemed to darken. A terrible silence fell, broken only by the faint rustling of the pearl-gold curtains swaying in the breeze.

"Vishnu..." Hiranyakashipu hissed, his voice dripping with venom. His grip tightened on the arms of his throne, the golden metal groaning under the pressure.

---

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