Following Rishi's guidance, Indra walked with grace and poise through the sacred mountains, each step a deliberate echo of his divine presence. The path twisted and turned, leading him through verdant groves, where the whisper of leaves and the distant chants of ascetics resonated like an eternal hymn.
After some time, he reached the edge of the path, where the vibrant greenery gave way to the icy grandeur of the mountain peak. A crisp, refreshing breeze swept across his face, carrying with it a faint, otherworldly scent of sacredness.
Before him stretched a flat expanse of land, blanketed in pristine frost that glistened like uncut diamonds under the sun. But what immediately seized his attention was the towering Mahadeva Shivalingam at the summit. The Shivling was colossal, rising high into the heavens, its black stone surface smooth yet alive with a radiant, ethereal energy. At its core, the Shivling seemed to pulse with an inner light, snow-white and pure, illuminating the entire mountaintop with a divine aura.
It was not merely a stone. It was Shiva Himself—unmanifest yet omnipresent.
The Shivling's presence dominated the summit, its vast and rounded base rooted firmly in the earth, symbolizing the cosmic foundation. Above, the heavens stretched endlessly, and in the distance, the mountains rolled in waves like a celestial ocean frozen in time. Clouds drifted in lazy swirls, their edges tinged with golden light, as though bowing to the sacred pillar.
The voices of Rishis filled the air, their reverent chants resonating with the rhythm of the cosmos. Their praises to the Divine echoed, their words imbued with devotion:
"Namah Shivaya! Hara Hara Mahadeva!"
Indra stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the Shivling. Though he had visited this sacred peak many times, the sight of Shiva's earthly form never failed to humble him. His heart swelled with awe and reverence, a sense of insignificance washing over him in the presence of the infinite.
"Truly magnificent," he thought, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his emotions. "As expected of Mahadeva."
With a deep breath, Indra folded his hands in anjali mudra and bowed his head in silent prayer. His voice, low and filled with veneration, murmured softly:
"Om Namah Shivaya."
But as his prayer ended, a thought stirred in his mind. His expression shifted slightly, his eyes gleaming with purpose. His lips curled into a faint smile as he recalled something.
"I still have plenty of marigolds left from the fire sacrifice," he mused to himself.
Straightening, Indra extended his hand, summoning his divine power. A soft hum reverberated through the air as a dense, dark cloud materialized above him, swirling ominously. Though small—no larger than a modest dwelling—it carried with it the weight of divine intent, heavy with latent energy.
Without hesitation, the cloud unleashed a torrential downpour, its waters cascading over the Shivling in a purifying flood. The sudden deluge startled the gathered Rishis, who turned their wide eyes toward the heavens.
The rain washed over the sacred Shivalingam, carrying away any impurities from the surface and renewing its sanctity. The droplets sparkled like liquid jewels as they struck the Shivling, flowing down its massive form and pooling at its base.
As their gazes swept over the scene, they spotted Indra standing in reverent devotion, his hands clasped together in praise.
"Indra?" one Rishi murmured, his voice thick with surprise.
"Indra…" another repeated, still taken aback.
"Indra, son of Aditi…" came the murmured chorus, each voice laced with reverence and awe.
Their eyes widened, their mouths slightly agape, as they took in the sight of Indra, offering his tribute to the mighty Shivling. The scene before them was nothing short of breathtaking, as the torrential rain poured relentlessly, drenching the sacred pillar.
The next moment, Indra raised his hands, and as if by command, the clouds parted, the storm dissipated, and the sky cleared in an instant. Brilliant rays of light descended from above, like beams from the heavens themselves, shining down upon the Shivling. The soft glow illuminated the pillar in divine radiance.
As the light cascaded down, beautiful marigolds began to fall, drifting gently through the air like blossoms scattered by Devi herself. The flowers were not just limited to the Shivalinga; they fell on the Rishis as well, blanketing them in a delicate, fragrant rain.
The Rishis reached out eagerly, their hands catching the marigolds as they fell. Smiles spread across their faces, and their hearts swelled with emotion. It was a sight to behold—a beautiful sacrifice indeed.
"He is indeed the wise and noble Indra, as the Vedas proclaim!" whispered Rishi Atri, his voice tinged with admiration.
"Pranam, Rishis!" Indra greeted warmly, a gracious smile spreading across his lips.
Once the praise had echoed through the air, Indra began walking toward the Rishis, who rose in unison to greet him. Among them, Rishi Dadhichi stepped forward, his hands clasped together in a respectful salute.
A look of deep reverence filled the faces of all present as they stood in honor.
"Pranam, O King of Svarga!" Dadhichi said, his voice resonating with warmth and reverence.
"Pranama Rishi Dadhichi!" Indra responded, his smile widening as he nodded to the other Rishis around him.
As the murmurs of respect settled, Rishi Dadhichi, still with his hands pressed together, tilted his head slightly and, with a curious glint in his eyes, asked, "The King of Svarga comes to Kailasha this time... is it to seek an audience with Mahadeva?"
Indra's smile deepened, and his lips parted slightly to speak. "I am here to continue my penance," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "Recently, three Asuras have gained boons and even dare to sneak inside Brahma Loka. I have come to meditate, to strengthen myself so that I may protect the Devas."
He rolled his eyes slightly, almost as if dismissing the thought, before adding a more personal, unspoken truth within himself. Some things are better left unsaid...
Rishi Dadhichi leaned forward, his serene eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and insight. "If you were not the King of Svarga, Indra, you would surely walk among the ranks of the greatest Rishis."
Indra chuckled, his lips curling into a faint smile as he shook his head. "You flatter me, Dadhichi. I am no Rishi. My connection with the Vedas pales before that of the Rishis, who have realized the ultimate truth and have taken part in the creation of the Vedas. I tread a different path—not of renunciation or solitary contemplation, but of action. My dharma binds me to Svarga, to safeguard the mortal world."
Dadhichi's expression softened, admiration evident in his gaze. "And yet, Indra, your deeds are not so far removed from the path of a Rishi. You protect dharma with a fervor that even sages might envy. Consider this: the path of a Rishi is not a single trail but a confluence of many. You can be a rishi while being the king of Svarga."
"There are Raja Rishis, kings who embodied both worldly leadership and spiritual wisdom. Think of King Satyavrata, also known as Manu, who was not only a ruler but also someone who saved mankind by building a boat during the great flood. Then, there are Devarishis like Narada, who traverse both divine and mortal realms, spreading the wisdom of the Vedas and stirring the wheels of destiny when needed."
He paused, gesturing with one hand as if to illustrate a vast expanse. "The Maharishis gain their greatness through immense Tapasya and unshakable resolve. Rishi Bhrigu, for example, peered into the essence of stars themselves and created Bhrigu Samhita, an astrological (Jyotish) classic, while Kashyapa fathered entire realms of beings. And, at the pinnacle, we have the Brahmarishis, like Vashistha and Vishwamitra, who have touched Brahman, the ultimate reality, through their boundless wisdom and penance."
Indra's expression turned reflective, his posture relaxing as he absorbed Dadhichi's words. "It is true, Dadhichi, that the titles of Rishis are great. But I believe it is not the title that grants greatness, but the dharma and karma one upholds and the service one renders to the world. The Rishi seeks wisdom and understanding; the king serves the people and maintains the laws of dharma; the warrior upholds justice and protects the weak; the merchant spreads prosperity; the teacher imparts knowledge; and the farmer nurtures life itself."
Dadhichi nodded slowly, his voice reverent. "That is wisdom, Indra. It is not surprising to hear such depth from the protector of Bhuloka and Svarga."
For a moment, Indra's gaze turned distant, a shadow of longing crossing his face. "And yet, I wonder, Rishi Dadhichi, what it might be like to tread the path of a Rishi. To set aside the weight of the throne of Svarga, the endless battles, and the politics of triloka, and find peace in the stillness of ascetic life. Perhaps that life is not so distant from me after all."
Dadhichi's faint smile returned, filled with knowing. "Ah, Indra, the desire for stillness is not foreign to even the most restless of hearts. But remember this—whether you walk the path of a Rishi or remain King of Svarga, the essence of greatness lies in the balance of your actions and your intent. If you choose to serve dharma, no path is lesser than the other."
Indra looked at Dadhichi for a long moment, then nodded. "Perhaps you're right, Dadhichi. And yet, it's comforting to know that even kings and warriors can learn something from the wisdom of the Rishis."
Indra smiled, offering no reply, though in his mind, he couldn't help but entertain a thought. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to resign from being King of Svarga and become a Rishi. That might be a more peaceful life.
The weight of his responsibilities as King of Svarga—constantly battling, forging iron, and dealing with the relentless King Asura—left him yearning for a change. Being a Rishi sounds so much more comfortable, he mused. At least I wouldn't have to endure the constant beatings from King Asura.
"Please, prepare a place for me to continue penance," Indra said, breaking his reverie.
Rishi Dadhichi nodded immediately, leading the way. "If the King of Svarga seeks to meditate, it would be best to do so near the Shivalinga—right down here. What do you think?"
Indra's gaze lingered on the towering black Shivalinga. All yajanas and prayers to the Shivalinga require watering, he thought. Not to mention the daily dousing of water... It's not exactly the peaceful environment I had in mind.
"I came here to sleep," he muttered inwardly, but instead, he blinked, feigning ignorance. "My method of penance ... a bit unusual. It's not really suited for places with too many people. Perhaps we can go somewhere quieter?"
Rishi Dadhichi, surprised by Indra's request, blinked in confusion. Does the King of Svarga want to engage in some harsh ascetic practices to hasten his strength for the Devas?
"Of course!" Dadhichi responded quickly, eager to accommodate the King.
As they walked together, the peaceful meditation forest surrounding them, Indra's dissatisfaction grew. "This place isn't right," he muttered. "No, no, it's not what I need. I need a place with larger, flatter rocks. Much bigger rocks!" he insisted, his voice firm as his gaze scanned the surroundings.
…
At the top of Kailash, the air was cool and serene, with the shade of tall trees casting gentle shadows over the land. Shiva sat upon a large rock, his black hair cascading down his back like a dark waterfall. He wore a leopard-skin garment, and in one hand, he casually held a trident. His posture was relaxed, with one leg bent at the knee, while the other leg dangled carelessly over the side of the rock.
Parvati stood beside him, her gaze soft and tranquil, watching her lover with deep, contented affection, as if savoring the peaceful moment.
A smile, as pure as the cool spring waters flowing down the mountain streams, spread across Shiva's face. It was the kind of smile that could soften even the hardest hearts. The heavens seemed to echo his joy as if the very sky was laughing with him.
And then, Nandi—the great white bull who stood by Shiva's side—lifted his head. His ears flicked as if he sensed something in the wind, and he looked up toward the sky with quiet curiosity.
Shiva, sitting peacefully beneath the shade of a sacred tree, smiled gently.
"Nandi," he said with warmth, "bring me a stone."
Without a word, Nandi gave a deep nod. Though large and strong, he moved with surprising grace as he turned and trotted off down the mountain path. His hooves echoed on the stone as he disappeared into the forest.
Not long after, Nandi returned—but he wasn't alone. Behind him came a crowd of Shiva's followers—the shiva ganas. They were an odd and wild bunch, with strange appearances and joyful hearts, all deeply devoted to their Lord. Each of them carried stones of every shape and size—smooth, rough, bright, dark—laughing and chattering as they came.
Nandi led them, calm and proud. In his strong arms, he carried a few carefully chosen stones. When he reached Shiva, he stepped forward and placed them before him with quiet reverence.
The others followed, laying their offerings down in a cheerful pile.
Shiva's smile never faded as he extended his hand to receive a small stone from Nandi. With a flick of his fingers, the stone vanished into thin air.
Meanwhile, Rishi Dadhichi was sweating profusely. His search for a suitable place for Indra's ascetic practice had led them to several locations within the silent retreat forest, but none seemed to meet the King of Svarga's exacting standards.
"I didn't expect the King of Svarga to have such high requirements for his place of meditation," Dadhichi muttered to himself, a little out of breath. "We've searched everywhere, but there's no place that feels quite right."
"Let's continue," Indra replied, his tone resolute.
"Very well!" Dadhichi agreed, shaking his head with a resigned smile.
As they ventured deeper into the forest, a faint white mist drifted through the air, curling around the edges of the trees. The mist seemed to beckon them forward, parting like a curtain to reveal a stunning sight: a massive, flat boulder, its surface smooth and perfect for meditation, sitting quietly amidst the green.
"The perfect place," Indra murmured, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
---
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