Chapter 78 The Self Above All

Bhu Loka

Rishi Atri gripped his cane tightly, his expression radiant with joy as he returned to his humble residence. Emotion swirled in his chest, making every step lighter than the last.

"To witness the manifestation of the Vedas," he murmured to himself, his voice trembling with elation, "is a reward earned through countless cycles of karma!"

His face radiated joy that erased years from a man's visage. Eager to share his overwhelming happiness, he quickened his pace, his heart longing to tell his wife, Anasuya, about the divine experience.

The small, thatched house stood surrounded by a simple wooden fence, its charm accentuated by the warm domesticity within. Outside, Anusuya, a cheerful woman with a kind smile, busied herself preparing a Satvik meal. The inviting aroma of roasted grains and freshly steamed rice mingled with the soft curls of white smoke rising from the cooking fire, adding a touch of serene simplicity to the scene.

The scent reached Rishi Atri before the sight did. His nose twitched slightly, and he inhaled deeply.

"Ah, the sweet fragrance of rice… and…" He paused, his eyes lighting up with realization. "Laddus made from jaggery and sesame! Anusuya has prepared laddus!"

Excited like a child, he hurried toward the house, his cane tapping rhythmically against the ground.

The door creaked open just as Rishi Atri reached the entrance. He stopped short, his eyes widening in surprise as a tall, mature-looking man stepped out. The newcomer's cold, serious expression and thick beard made him look every bit the stern ascetic, and the cane he carried added to his commanding presence.

Rishi Atri froze, momentarily stunned. But then recognition bloomed on his face, and his heart swelled joyfully.

"Durvasa!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing with delight. "You're back, hahaha!"

Unable to contain his happiness, Rishi Atri's laughter rang out as he opened his arms and moved toward the man. Despite his advanced age, he trotted forward with surprising energy, embracing his son tightly.

"Durvasa, my son!" he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Durvasa, ever stoic, allowed a faint smile to touch his lips.

Rishi Atri blinked away tears as he stepped back, his hands still on Durvasa's shoulders. He shook his head, overwhelmed by the fortune of the day.

To witness the manifestation of the Vedas and return home to find his son, one of his three, had completed his ascetic practices and come back—it was a joy that seemed too vast for one heart to contain.

He raised his gaze to the heavens, his voice quivering with gratitude. "What a day! If I were to ascend to Svarga now, I would leave without regret."

The laughter of a father reunited with his son and the scent of a lovingly prepared meal filled the air, transforming the humble home into a haven of divine happiness.

"Father, why are you so happy?"

Rishi Durvasa's piercing gaze fell upon his father, who couldn't seem to stop smiling since returning home. The joy radiating from Rishi Atri was infectious, yet puzzling to Durvasa, who had just emerged from his long meditation.

After ushering his father into the house, Durvasa finally asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Rishi Atri clapped his hands together, his eyes brimming with warmth and an odd touch of pity. A deep sigh escaped his lips.

"Ah, my son! You just finished your meditation, didn't you? Such a pity! Such a shame!" Atri lamented, shaking his head. "You missed it. I visited Vaikuntha all Tridev and Tridevi were present there! The Vedas… they manifested!"

Durvasa's brow furrowed deeply, his confusion was evident.

"What?!" he exclaimed, tilting his head slightly, his tone demanding clarity. "What's the big deal about that?"

Having been immersed in meditation, Durvasa had been entirely detached from worldly events. He now found himself grappling with the apparent significance of what he'd missed.

Rishi Atri sighed again, the weight of his awe palpable. "Lord Vishnu summoned the Devas and Rishis to Vaikuntha. You were absent, Durvasa, deep in meditation, so you have no idea what transpired."

Durvasa leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Father, what happened?"

"The Vedas manifested in their glory," Atri began, his voice reverent. "Their sacred words resonated for the entire Triloka to hear. His wisdom and name now have been recorded within them."

Durvasa's eyes widened, blinking with a mixture of astonishment and urgency. He shook his head, grabbed his father's arm, and leaned closer. "Who was it?" he demanded, his voice almost trembling. "Which Rishi's wisdom has been etched into the Vedas?"

The mere thought of being part of the Vedas—the supreme, holy scripture revered by all Rishis—was enough to stir deep excitement in Durvasa. To be recorded within it was an honor beyond compare, worth any sacrifice.

Rishi Atri hesitated, his words faltering. "The one was…" He paused, his expression clouding with caution. Just as he was about to speak, he recalled something—his son's strained history with the King of Svarga.

After all, it was Rishi Durvasa himself who had cursed the Devas, stripping them of their divine power and forcing them to churn the Kshira Sagara alongside the Asuras. The memory of that grudge stayed Atri's tongue.

"Never mind," Atri said carefully, patting his son's arm. "Perhaps it is better for you to learn of it in due time."

Durvasa's frown deepened, his sharp mind sensing there was more to the story than his father let on. Yet for now, he held his peace, his curiosity burning like a hidden ember, waiting to ignite.

Rishi Atri turned to his son, his gaze meeting Rishi Durvasa's expectant expression. His eyes glimmered with a blend of wisdom and gentle compassion.

"My child," he began, his voice calm yet weighted with significance. "Sometimes, the truth may seem hard to grasp, even harder to believe. But no matter how unsettling it might feel, you must choose to accept it."

He raised a hand, placing it reassuringly on Durvasa's shoulder.

Durvasa tilted his head in confusion, an unspoken question written on his face as if a literal question mark hovered above him. Why was his father speaking in riddles?

Sensing his son's bewilderment, Atri chuckled softly and cleared his throat. "In Vaikuntha, a wise man engaged in a debate with the Devi Sarasvati herself. The Devi posed a question to the gathered assembly, one that resonates deeply with all who hear it."

Durvasa's brows furrowed as he listened intently. "What was the question?"

Atri leaned slightly forward, his tone solemn. "She asked, 'What is the greatest in the world?'"

Durvasa's expression grew thoughtful. He closed his eyes, retreating into the depths of his mind to ponder the profound query.

Atri watched his son in silence, his patience unwavering, his gaze a mix of admiration and quiet anticipation.

Durvasa's brow furrowed in deep thought, his intense gaze fixed on the ground as he pondered. After a few moments, his eyes snapped open, brimming with conviction.

"The greatest in the world must undoubtedly be the Trimurti!" he declared, his voice resonant and unyielding.

In his understanding, the Trimurti—the three supreme Devas—were the pillars of existence, an inseparable triad embodying creation, preservation, and destruction. Like an inverted triangle, Mahadeva and Vishnu formed the apexes above, with Brahma as the foundation below, each indispensable yet unequal in reverence.

Durvasa's expression grew sharper, his reasoning cutting through his declaration. "But among the three, it is only Mahadeva and Vishnu who are revered above all else. Since they embody the ultimate, could it be… Mahadeva?"

Rishi Atri's lips curved into a knowing smile, his silence profound, a quiet nudge urging Durvasa to delve further.

Durvasa tilted his head, his mind racing. "Or is it Vishnu, the sustainer and protector of all creation?" he asked, his tone now inquisitive, seeking validation.

Again, Atri remained silent, his serene smile unmoving.

Frustrated yet intrigued, Durvasa asked, "Father, what is the answer? What truth did the wise man tell?"

Atri's eyes softened, and he finally spoke. "It is I."

Durvasa blinked, stunned by the simplicity of the response. "You?"

"Not me as in Rishi Atri," Atri clarified, his voice carrying the gravity of his wisdom. "But the 'I' within every being—the self. Every person's soul, their Atman, is the greatest. It is through the Atman that all truths are realized, all connections are formed, and the divine itself is understood."

Atri then elaborated, weaving a tapestry of concepts and principles that tied together the eternal nature of the self with its role as both the seeker and the sought.

Durvasa listened, enraptured, as his father's words deepened his understanding of the world, the divine, and, most importantly, himself.

Durvasa sat in silence, his body motionless, as the weight of his father's words settled over him. His sluggish movements betrayed the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. Slowly, his head began to shake, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips, growing into a look of joy as the revelation dawned on him.

He raised his hands, bringing them together in reverence. "What a wise man!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "I never imagined such a wise man could exist in this world!"

Unable to contain his curiosity, he leaned forward, his eyes wide with eagerness. "Father, who is this Rishi Muni? Where did he practice asceticism? Have I met him before?"

Rishi Atri's calm demeanor did not falter. He nodded slightly, his gaze steady. "Yes," he replied simply, "you've seen him before."

"Who is it? Which Rishi are we speaking of? Rishi Kashyapa? Or perhaps Rishi Angiras?" Durvasa pressed on, his questions spilling out in rapid succession.

Rishi Atri couldn't help but smile at his son's rare display of unbridled excitement. It was the first time he had seen Durvasa so visibly unsettled.

With a composed air, Atri decided it was time to unveil the truth. "Indra," he said, his voice calm yet laden with significance.

The name echoed in the quiet room, resonating like thunder. "Indra… Indra… Indra…" Atri's tone was steady, but his words struck like a lightning bolt, reverberating in Durvasa's ears, refusing to fade.

Durvasa's eyes widened in shock, his expression morphing into one of disbelief. His normally solemn face froze, his features betraying his inner turmoil—dilated eyes, a slightly open mouth, and a bewildered stare.

It was as if time itself had stilled.

Durvasa's body remained rigid, his posture frozen, like a statue carved in the throes of confusion. The revelation was not just unexpected—it was monumental, shaking the very foundation of his understanding.

Rishi Durvasa blinked, his expression perplexed, as if trying to process what he had just heard. He shook his head, his gaze fixed on his father. Slowly, almost incredulously, he repeated the name.

"Indra?"

"Yes," Rishi Atri affirmed with a nod.

"Indra? The King of Svarga?!" Durvasa's voice rose in disbelief, his eyes wide as if the very notion defied all reason.

"Indeed," Atri confirmed once more, his tone steady.

"Impossible!!" Durvasa exclaimed, springing to his feet. He waved his hands vehemently, his voice filled with indignation. "Indra possessing such wisdom? Preposterous! A joke!"

To Durvasa, the idea was ludicrous. Unless the celestial teacher himself, Brihaspati, had composed the Vedas on Indra's behalf, this revelation was beyond belief.

"It's true," Atri said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of conviction. "When I first heard his answer, I assumed it was arrogance speaking, and I was ready to curse him on the spot. But the wisdom in his words... it silenced even me."

Atri tilted his head back slightly and sighed as if reflecting on the moment. "The King of Svarga has shattered my preconceptions. I see him in an entirely new light now."

Durvasa, however, remained unconvinced. "Father, don't let illusions sway you. Indra's nature doesn't change. Beneath it all, arrogance still festers in his heart!"

Atri's expression darkened at his son's defiance. Rising to his feet, he fixed Durvasa with a cold glare, his eyes blazing with displeasure.

"Durvasa!" Atri's voice thundered, commanding the room. "How dare you speak such disrespect about one whose words have been recorded in the Vedas?"

Atri's anger was palpable, his righteous indignation filling the air like an electric charge.

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