Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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After several hours of preparation, the entire tribal settlement became busy.

Men dismantled temporary structures.

Women carefully packed cooking utensils, clothes, and household belongings.

Children ran around excitedly, treating the relocation as some grand adventure rather than a precaution against a possible future threat.

Elders supervised the work while repeatedly checking whether anything important had been forgotten.

Dozens of carts were loaded with supplies.

Sacks of grain.

Hunting equipment.

Medicinal herbs.

Tools.

Blankets.

Everything that could be transported was packed away.

The tribe had lived in that forest for generations.

Leaving it behind, even temporarily, was not easy.

Many of the older members looked back at the settlement with mixed emotions.

There were memories attached to every tree.

Every path.

Every corner of the forest.

Yet none voiced any objections.

The safety of their children came first.

As the final preparations concluded, the old tribal chief walked toward Devara.

"We are ready."

Devara nodded his head.

"Then let’s move before darkness fully settles."

Soon the long procession began moving.

Carts rolled across forest paths.

Warriors spread themselves around the group as guards.

Children sat inside the carts, occasionally pointing excitedly at animals they spotted along the journey.

The atmosphere was surprisingly lively.

The tribal members had expected fear.

Instead, the presence of Devara seemed to have calmed everyone.

Even Sage Veenadhara had somehow secured the safest position possible.

Right beside Devara’s cart.

Whenever someone asked why he wasn’t riding elsewhere, the sage would proudly declare that he was protecting the merchant.

Naturally, nobody believed him.

The journey continued for hours.

By the time the first houses of Mallikavana came into view, the sun had already begun its descent.

Golden light bathed the flower fields.

Countless blossoms swayed gently beneath the evening breeze.

The entire village seemed painted in shades of gold, orange, and crimson.

It was beautiful.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of the great flower festival.

Preparations could already be seen everywhere.

Decorations hung from houses.

Flower garlands adorned streets.

Villagers hurried back and forth making final arrangements.

Then they noticed something.

A lot of something.

A massive procession approaching the village.

Carts.

Warriors.

Families.

Children.

Elders.

Hundreds of unfamiliar faces.

The villagers immediately gathered near the entrance.

Confused murmurs spread throughout the crowd.

"What happened?"

"Who are they?"

"Why are there so many people?"

Soon Devara’s cart stopped near the village square.

Several villagers immediately surrounded him.

After spending the past few days in Mallikavana, the mysterious merchant had already become quite popular.

Especially after humiliating Sage Veenadhara in the riddle contest.

An old farmer stepped forward first.

"Merchant Deva!"

The nickname had somehow spread among the villagers.

"What happened?"

Another villager pointed toward the incoming tribe.

"Who are these people?"

"Why have they come here?"

The villagers looked worried.

Mallikavana was not a large settlement.

Housing so many people would not be easy.

Fortunately, Devara had already prepared an explanation.

Before leaving the tribal settlement, he had specifically instructed everyone not to mention Pushpasura.

At least not yet.

The last thing they needed was widespread panic.

The tribe had understood immediately.

So now Devara stepped forward with a calm smile.

"Their situation is unfortunate."

The villagers listened attentively.

"Their crops were devastated."

Several gasps sounded.

The farmers immediately understood how serious that was.

Devara continued.

"A large insect infestation destroyed most of their food supplies."

"The damage was severe."

The villagers immediately looked at the tribe with pity.

Many had experienced difficult harvests before.

They knew how devastating such losses could be.

One elderly woman covered her mouth.

"Those poor children."

A farmer sighed heavily.

"They must have suffered greatly."

Devara nodded his head going with their flow.

"So I invited them here temporarily."

His gaze swept across the gathered villagers.

"The festival begins tomorrow."

"Instead of remaining in a place filled with bad memories, I thought allowing them to stay here for a while would help."

The villagers exchanged looks.

Then slowly nodded.

The explanation made sense.

Very much so.

One farmer scratched his beard.

"If I lost my entire harvest, I would be depressed too."

His wife immediately smacked him on the back of the head.

"You’re depressed even when the harvest succeeds."

The crowd laughed.

The tension eased considerably.

Then another villager suddenly remembered something.

"The insects..."

His eyes widened.

"Wait."

"The same insects that nearly reached our flower fields?"

Several others immediately remembered as well.

The mood shifted.

Not toward anger.

Toward sympathy.

Because they remembered exactly what had saved them.

The birds.

Thousands upon thousands of birds.

The incredible aerial assault that had nearly wiped out the infestation.

Several villagers looked toward the tribe with pity.

One farmer shook his head.

"They weren’t as lucky as us."

Another nodded.

"If those birds hadn’t helped us, our flower fields would’ve been destroyed too."

A woman carrying a basket sighed.

"We should help them."

Many immediately agreed.

The people of Mallikavana were not wealthy.

But they were kind.

And kindness spread quickly.

Before long, villagers began stepping forward.

Offering food.

Offering temporary shelter.

Offering blankets.

Offering empty storage buildings that could be converted into sleeping areas.

The tribal members looked genuinely surprised.

Many of them had expected suspicion.

Instead, they were greeted with generosity.

The old tribal chief watched everything quietly.

His eyes eventually shifted toward Devara.

Once again, he was reminded why Lord Vishnu had chosen this man.

Devara had not used force.

Had not used authority.

Had not used fear.

Instead, he had simply told a believable story and allowed compassion to do the rest.

Nearby, Shakuni smiled faintly.

The minister had witnessed this countless times before.

Devara had a strange talent.

Whether dealing with kings, sages, villagers, or warriors...

People naturally wanted to trust him.

Meanwhile, unknown to everyone celebrating the successful relocation...

Far away in the depths of the forest...

Several pairs of eyes were already watching the village.

Watching the arriving tribe.

Watching the flower fields.

Watching Devara.

The followers of Pushpasura had finally begun investigating why their plans were failing.

And soon...

They would realize someone had started interfering with them.

The relocation process continued well into the evening.

Despite the sudden arrival of so many people, the villagers of Mallikavana did not complain.

If anything, many of them went out of their way to help.

Some tribal families were invited directly into village homes.

A few elderly couples who lived alone happily offered spare rooms.

Several widows took in mothers with young children.

Others shared whatever extra food they had prepared for the upcoming festival.

The remaining tribal members followed the village chief toward a large open area near the edge of Mallikavana.

It was usually used during festivals whenever merchants, travelers, and pilgrims arrived in large numbers.

Soon dozens of tents began appearing across the field.

Campfires were lit.

Children ran around exploring their temporary surroundings.

Women prepared meals while warriors established patrols around the camp.

By the time the moon had climbed high into the sky, the temporary settlement was almost complete.

The old tribal chief looked around and released a sigh of relief.

For the first time since leaving their forest settlement, he felt some measure of peace.

Meanwhile, Devara, Shakuni, and the ever-present Sage Veenadhara returned to the old woman’s house.

The old lady had been busy the entire evening.

When they entered, the aroma of freshly prepared food immediately greeted them.

Several clay pots sat near the hearth.

Simple dishes.

Nothing extravagant.

Nothing royal.

Nothing worthy of palace banquets.

At least according to Shakuni.

The minister sat down and stared at the meal before him.

Then stared again.

And again.

His expression slowly became blank.

The old woman proudly placed another bowl before him.

"There."

"Eat while it’s hot."

Shakuni looked at the contents.

Then at Devara.

Then back at the contents.

His face carried the expression of a man questioning his life choices.

The old woman frowned.

"What?"

Shakuni pointed at the meal.

"This is dinner?"

The old woman narrowed her eyes.

"What is wrong with it?"

The minister immediately realized he was walking into dangerous territory.

Before he could answer, Devara had already started eating.

Without hesitation.

Without complaint.

Without even waiting.

The king happily dug into the food as though he had discovered a heavenly feast.

The old woman’s face immediately brightened.

"See?"

She pointed triumphantly at Devara.

"The merchant appreciates good food."

Shakuni looked at his brother-in-law in disbelief.

The food consisted mostly of rice, vegetables, buttermilk, and a handful of green chilies.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Yet Devara was eating with complete satisfaction.

The old woman sat beside him proudly.

"Take more."

Devara smiled.

"I will."

The old woman immediately placed another serving into his bowl.

Shakuni looked horrified.

The serving was larger than the first.

The old woman then turned toward him.

"And you."

Shakuni instantly straightened.

The same dangerous smile appeared on the old woman’s face.

"Eat."

The minister sighed.

Defeat was inevitable.

Even Sage Veenadhara wisely chose not to interfere.

The sage had already learned that arguing with old women was significantly more dangerous than challenging entire villages to riddles.

She had a nerves to give him empty banana leaf to eat when he tried to show off.

The meal ended with everyone surprisingly satisfied.

Well...

Almost everyone.

Shakuni was still trying to understand how Devara could genuinely enjoy green chilies with such enthusiasm.

Eventually the house became quiet.

The village settled into sleep.

Tomorrow would be an important day.

The Flower Festival would begin.

King Padmanabha Varman would arrive.

Along with Princess Indhumati and Prince Dhumakethu.

And so, one by one, the village lights disappeared into the night.

Before dawn had fully arrived, Mallikavana was already stirring.

The first rays of sunlight had not yet touched the horizon when the sound of horses echoed through the roads leading into the village.

A group of armed riders entered at a swift pace.

Behind them followed more soldiers.

And then more.

The villagers immediately recognized what was happening.

The royal advance guard had arrived.

News spread through the village faster than fire through dry grass.

"The king’s soldiers!"

"They’re here!"

"The royal family is arriving today!"

People quickly moved aside as the soldiers began their duties.

The captain leading the force wasted no time.

His orders were clear.

Inspect everything.

Leave nothing unchecked.

The safety of the royal family came before everything else.

Teams of guards spread throughout the village.

Some inspected rooftops.

Others searched abandoned structures.

Several questioned travelers and merchants.

A few moved toward the flower fields.

More were stationed along roads leading into the village.

The tribal members quietly observed the activity from their temporary camp.

Many of them had never seen such extensive security preparations before.

Children stared in fascination at the armored soldiers.

Several warriors of the tribe exchanged impressed glances.

Meanwhile, the villagers continued their daily routines.

Farmers checked their fields.

Shopkeepers opened their stalls.

Women fetched water.

Children chased one another through the streets.

Yet beneath the ordinary activities, excitement filled the air.

Everywhere people talked about the same thing.

The festival.

The royal arrival.

The flower competition.

Who would win this year.

Whether the princess would truly attend.

Whether the prince was as handsome as the stories claimed.

The entire village buzzed with anticipation.

From the doorway of the old woman’s house, Devara quietly observed the preparations.

Shakuni stood beside him.

The minister crossed his arms.

"Quite the welcome."

Devara nodded his head looking around.

"The security is thorough."

"More than usual."

Shakuni noticed it too.

The number of guards seemed unusually high for a simple flower festival.

Which meant one thing.

King Padmanabha Varman was taking no chances.

Perhaps he had received reports or something.

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(Author note:)

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