Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

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As Devara stood before the statue of Lord Vishnu, his gaze fixed upon the empty hand where the sacred flower had once rested.

The temple remained silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Not a single sound disturbed the sanctity of the chamber.

Shakuni was examining the ancient carvings upon the pillars.

Sage Veenadhara remained close behind Devara, occasionally glancing toward the entrance to ensure none of the tribesmen had suddenly decided to resume their earlier discussion regarding burial.

Then suddenly...

A brilliant golden radiance erupted from the statue.

The entire sanctum was engulfed in light.

The carvings upon the walls began to glow.

The lamps burned brighter.

The very air trembled with divine energy.

For a brief moment, everything vanished.

The temple.

The pillars.

The walls.

The world itself.

Devara instinctively closed his eyes.

The divine brilliance was too overwhelming even for him.

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the light settled.

Devara slowly opened his eyes.

The sight before him made him pause.

He was no longer standing within the ancient temple.

Instead, he found himself standing upon an endless surface of crystal-clear water.

The water reflected countless stars despite there being no visible sky.

Lotuses bloomed across the divine expanse.

Their fragrance filled the surroundings with an indescribable peace.

The atmosphere itself felt eternal.

A place beyond mortal understanding.

A place he knew well.

Vaikuntha.¹

And standing before him were two figures he loved and respected deeply.

Lord Vishnu.

And Goddess Lakshmi.

For a brief moment, Devara simply stared.

"...."

Then a genuine smile appeared on his face.

Not the smile of a king.

Not the smile of a warrior.

Not the smile of someone carrying responsibilities.

Simply the smile of a son seeing his parents.

Goddess Lakshmi’s eyes immediately softened.

Without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"My child."

The warmth in her voice could melt mountains.

Devara returned the embrace naturally.

There was no awkwardness.

No hesitation.

Why would there be?

A son did not hesitate before his mother.

Goddess Lakshmi gently pulled back and immediately began inspecting him.

Her expression slowly changed.

A familiar look.

The look all mothers possessed.

Concern.

"You’ve lost weight."

Devara immediately sighed.

Lord Vishnu quietly looked away.

Apparently, even the Preserver of the Universe knew better than to involve himself in such discussions.

He could tell his son was really build well.

Devara smiled helplessly.

"Mother..."

"No."

Goddess Lakshmi immediately interrupted.

"You have."

She pinched his cheek.

"You’re not eating properly."

Devara looked genuinely innocent.

Which only made the Goddess narrow her eyes further.

The look said she did not believe him in the slightest.

Then, with a wave of her hand, a golden plate appeared.

Upon it rested sweets prepared personally by her.

Their aroma alone was enough to make even celestial beings jealous.

The moment Devara saw them, his eyes brightened.

Goddess Lakshmi smiled triumphantly.

She knew that look. Because those who pay attention to Devara knew to win over him you need to fill his stomach with tasty food.

"Here."

She handed him one.

"I prepared these myself."

Devara immediately accepted.

Not out of obligation. Not out of politeness.

But because he genuinely wanted to.

After all, no matter how old one became, food prepared by one’s mother always tasted different.

Better.

Warmer.

The goddess watched with satisfaction as he ate.

"...."

Then immediately handed him another.

And another.

And another.

Lord Vishnu watched the scene with a faint smile.

Some things never changed.

Eventually, Goddess Lakshmi seemed satisfied enough to allow the conversation to continue.

Lord Vishnu stepped forward.

His calm presence alone seemed capable of stilling all worries.

The Lord of Preservation placed a hand upon Devara’s shoulder.

A simple gesture.

Yet one filled with affection.

His gentle voice echoed across the endless waters.

"You have done well."

Devara looked toward him.

Lord Vishnu’s smile carried pride.

Not the pride of a god.

The pride of a father.

"You have made many choices that pleased us."

"You have protected without discrimination."

"You have ruled without arrogance."

"You have listened when others chose not to."

The divine lord’s gaze became thoughtful.

"But the road ahead will not be easy."

The smile upon Devara’s face faded slightly.

He already knew that.

Lord Vishnu continued.

"The path before you is unlike the paths walked by kings before you."

"Unlike the paths walked by sages."

"Unlike the paths walked by heroes."

The divine ocean beneath them rippled gently.

"You are not merely walking a road."

"You are creating one."

The words carried immense meaning.

"A road no one has walked before."

"A road that will contain obstacles for which there are no examples."

"No instructions."

"No precedents."

"No guidance."

For a brief moment, the waters around them reflected countless possible futures.

Some bright. Some dark.

Some glorious. Some tragic.

Then they vanished.

Lord Vishnu’s hand remained upon Devara’s shoulder.

"But remember this."

His voice remained calm.

"I shall always be there."

"When confusion clouds your thoughts."

"When doubt enters your heart."

"When the world attempts to make you forget."

The divine lord smiled.

"I will remind you who you are."

"And what path you have chosen."

Devara silently nodded.

-Nod!

"...."

The reassurance carried more weight than any weapon.

Then Lord Vishnu’s expression became serious.

The atmosphere around them subtly changed.

The topic had shifted.

The warmth remained.

But now came duty.

"Pushpasura."

The name echoed across the divine waters.

Immediately, Devara’s attention sharpened.

Lord Vishnu continued.

"The signs have begun appearing once more."

"The prison weakens."

"The worshippers move."

"The prophecy approaches."

The countless stars reflected upon the water seemed to tremble.

For a moment, the image of a colossal shadow appeared.

A monstrous silhouette sleeping beneath mountains of flowers.

Then it vanished.

Lord Vishnu looked directly into his son’s eyes.

"The time is nearing."

Devara remained silent.

Listening to his father.

Understanding.

Accepting.

The Lord Vishnu slowly nodded.

"Long ago, it was I who confronted Pushpasura."

"It was I who devised the means to stop him."

"It was I who placed him into his slumber."

The waters rippled once again.

"But this time..."

A faint smile appeared on Lord Vishnu’s face.

"This battle belongs to another."

Devara already knew the answer.

Yet hearing it carried a different weight.

"...."

Lord Vishnu continued.

"This time, it will not be Vishnu who stands against Pushpasura."

The divine lord’s eyes reflected both pride and trust.

"It will be my son."

Silence followed. Not a heavy silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Not an uncomfortable one.

A peaceful one.

The kind shared between parent and child.

Then Lord Vishnu smiled.

And in that smile was absolute faith.

Not faith in a king. Not faith in a hero.

Faith in Devara.

Faith that when the moment arrived... He would walk the path only he could walk.

Time flowed differently within Vaikuntha.

Whether moments had passed or entire hours, even Devara himself could not tell.

He had spoken with Lord Vishnu.

He had spent time with Goddess Lakshmi.

He had listened to their guidance.

Their encouragement.

Their warnings.

Most importantly...

He had simply been their son.

For a brief period, the burdens of kingship, destiny, and responsibility had faded into the background.

Yet every meeting eventually came to an end.

Even the most cherished ones.

Goddess Lakshmi adjusted a strand of hair that had fallen across Devara’s forehead.

A mother’s gesture.

Simple.

Natural.

Timeless.

Then she smiled softly.

"You should return."

Devara nodded.

Though a small part of him wished to remain longer.

Lord Vishnu seemed to notice.

As always.

The Preserver smiled.

"We are not going anywhere."

The words carried a quiet warmth.

The kind that only family could provide.

"When the time is right, we shall meet again."

Devara folded his hands respectfully.

Not because they were gods.

But because they were his parents.

The gesture earned a chuckle from Goddess Lakshmi.

Then...

The divine light returned.

Brighter than before.

The endless waters disappeared.

The lotuses faded.

The stars dissolved into golden radiance.

And the world transformed once more.

A brilliant flash engulfed everything.

For a brief instant, there was only light.

Then...

The ancient temple returned.

The stone floor.

The carved pillars.

The scent of incense.

The quiet atmosphere of the shrine.

Devara found himself standing exactly where he had been before.

Before him stood the statue of Lord Vishnu.

Its serene expression unchanged.

As though nothing had happened.

As though the divine meeting had been nothing more than a dream.

Yet Devara knew better.

The lingering warmth in his heart told him otherwise.

The sweet prepared by Goddess Lakshmi still remained in his hand.

Proof enough.

Nearby, Shakuni, Sage Veenadhara, and the elderly tribal chief slowly blinked.

The brilliant radiance had forced all of them to close their eyes.

Even now their vision remained blurry.

They rubbed their eyes repeatedly.

Trying to adjust.

Trying to understand what had happened.

For several moments, they could only see shapes.

Silhouettes.

Blurred outlines.

Then gradually...

Their vision returned.

And what they saw caused all three to freeze.

Devara stood before the statue.

Exactly where he had been moments earlier.

Yet something had changed.

Something impossible to describe.

A gentle breeze flowed through the temple.

Though no doors had opened.

Though no windows stood nearby.

The wind simply appeared.

Moving through the sacred chamber.

Devara’s hair shifted softly beneath it.

His clothing fluttered slightly.

Tiny golden particles drifted around him.

Like countless fireflies made from sunlight itself.

The luminous fragments floated through the air peacefully.

Dancing around him.

Slowly rising toward the heavens.

One by one.

As though reluctant to leave.

The entire scene appeared unreal.

Divine.

Beautiful.

For a brief moment, the temple seemed less like a structure built by mortals and more like a place where heaven itself had touched the world.

Shakuni stared at the scene.

Speechless.

"...."

For perhaps the first time in many years.

The minister had witnessed miracles before.

He had witnessed impossible things before.

Yet seeing them personally never became easier.

Meanwhile, Sage Veenadhara remained frozen.

His mouth opened slightly.

Then closed.

Then opened again.

No words emerged.

The man who could argue with rivers.

The man who could challenge entire villages.

The man who never stopped talking.

Had become completely silent.

The old tribal chief reacted differently.

The moment his eyes fully adjusted...

The moment he saw the golden lights drifting around Devara...

The moment he felt the lingering divine presence filling the temple...

His legs gave way.

He fell to his knees.

Not because someone ordered him to.

Not because of fear.

But because every instinct within him screamed the same thing.

Something sacred had just happened.

Something beyond mortal understanding.

His body trembled slightly.

The old man looked toward the statue of Lord Vishnu.

Then toward Devara.

Then back again.

A realization slowly formed.

One so overwhelming that it left him breathless.

Generations.

Countless generations.

His people had protected these forests.

Protected this temple.

Protected the memory of the sacred flower.

Protected the prison of Pushpasura.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

For the day the ancient threat would return.

And now...

Standing before him...

Bathed in lingering divine radiance...

Was a man who had entered the temple as a merchant.

Yet no longer looked like one.

The old chief felt tears gathering in his eyes.

Not from sadness.

From awe.

His voice trembled.

Barely above a whisper.

"Lord Vishnu..."

The words escaped unconsciously.

The old man lowered his head.

The tiny golden lights continued rising around Devara.

Returning toward the heavens.

Like fragments of divine blessing returning to their source.

The tribal chief’s heart pounded.

He could not hear what had occurred.

He could not know what had been spoken.

Yet somehow...

Deep within his soul...

He felt the answer.

The same answer his ancestors had spent centuries searching for.

The protector.

The warrior.

The one who would stand against the darkness when Pushpasura awakened.

The old man’s voice broke.

"He has chosen..."

Around him, several warriors who had followed them to the temple slowly fell silent as well.

Even they could feel it.

The sacred atmosphere lingering within the shrine.

The divine presence that had not completely faded.

The old chief slowly raised his eyes toward Devara.

His gaze filled with reverence.

Not toward a king.

Not toward a warrior.

Not toward a merchant.

But toward a man whom destiny itself seemed to be gathering around.

And for the first time in many generations...

Hope was born within the hearts of those who had guarded the flower forest.

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(Author note:)

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