The Consecration by Brahma

The Call to Brahmaloka

The Jagannath Temple stood on Puri's golden shore, its sandstone spires piercing the sky, a monument to King Indradyumna's unwavering devotion. The idols of Jagannath, Balabhadra, and Subhadra, their wide eyes radiant with divine mystery, rested on the Ratnavedi, the pearl throne within the sanctum. Yet, the temple awaited its final sanctification, a consecration that would bind it to the cosmos. Indradyumna, his heart now mended by Vishnu's divine assurance, knew only one being could perform such a rite: Lord Brahma, the creator, whose breath had shaped the universe.

The decision came after fervent prayers by the sea, where the waves seemed to whisper approval. Indradyumna stood before the idols, their unblinking gaze fueling his resolve. "O Lord Jagannath," he prayed, "your forms are enshrined, but your temple must be blessed by the creator's hand." The priests, led by Vidyapati, agreed, their manuscripts citing ancient texts that spoke of Brahma consecrating sacred sites. Queen Gundicha, her guilt eased by Vishnu's vision, stood by her husband, her eyes bright with hope. "The Lord has guided us thus far," she said, her voice steady. "Brahma will complete your vision."

Preparations began with solemn grandeur. The temple courtyard buzzed with activity as priests lit fires for a grand yajna, their chants of the Brahma Sukta rising like incense. The Savara tribe, led by Chief Viswavasu, offered forest herbs and red ochre, their drums blending with Vedic rhythms. Indradyumna, clad in simple white silk, fasted to purify himself, his body a vessel for the cosmic journey ahead. Vidyapati performed a ritual at the sanctum, sprinkling holy water on the idols, while Gundicha w personally wove a garland of lotuses, placing it at Jagannath's feet. The kingdom gathered, their prayers a chorus, as Indradyumna prepared to ascend to Brahmaloka.

The night before his departure, Indradyumna stood by the sea, the stars reflecting Vishnu's promise. A peacock wandered near, its feathers glinting like the cosmos, an omen of divine favor. "O Brahma, hear your servant," he whispered, his heart alight. The priests anointed him with sandalwood paste, marking his forehead with a tilak, and Viswavasu gifted him a carved wooden amulet, a tribal token for protection. With Puri's hopes on his shoulders, Indradyumna closed his eyes, surrendering to the divine will, ready for the journey beyond the mortal realm.

The Ascent to Brahmaloka

As dawn broke, a mystic stillness enveloped Puri. Indradyumna, guided by the priests' chants, entered a meditative trance, his soul rising like a flame from his body. The world dissolved, and he found himself on a celestial path, a bridge of light spanning the cosmos. Stars swirled around him, their brilliance softened by clouds of cosmic dust, while rivers of nectar flowed through the void. The air hummed with mantras, and ethereal beings—gandharvas with lyres, apsaras with lotus eyes—watched in silence, their presence a testament to the divine realm.

The path led to Brahmaloka, a realm of golden light where lotuses bloomed in lakes of amrita. Towers of crystal rose, their spires reflecting infinite worlds, and the air pulsed with the sound of creation. At the heart stood Brahma, four-faced and radiant, seated on a lotus born from Vishnu's navel. His eyes, each gazing into a different eternity, met Indradyumna's with gentle warmth. The king fell to his knees, his heart overwhelmed. "O Creator," he said, his voice trembling, "I am Indradyumna, a humble servant of Vishnu. I have built a temple in Puri to enshrine Jagannath, Balabhadra, and Subhadra. Will you consecrate it, that it may stand as a beacon of devotion?"

Brahma's faces smiled, his voice like the hum of the universe. "Your devotion has reached me, Indradyumna. The temple born of Vishnu's will is sacred. I shall come to Puri to sanctify it." Indradyumna's heart soared, his soul bathed in divine light. He bowed, tears of gratitude falling, unaware that time in Brahmaloka flowed differently. What seemed a brief audience was, on Earth, the passage of centuries. Brahma, sensing the king's mortal heart, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Return, and I will follow," he said, his words a promise.

The journey back was a blur of light and sound, the celestial path folding into Puri's familiar shore. Indradyumna awoke, his body weak but his spirit ablaze. Yet, as he opened his eyes, the world had changed. The temple stood taller, its stones weathered, its spires adorned with carvings he did not recognize. The sea was the same, but Puri was not. Confusion gripped him as he stumbled toward the temple, his heart racing with a new fear.

The Time Lapse on Earth

Centuries had passed in Puri, though Indradyumna's visit to Brahmaloka felt like hours. The once-bustling camp of laborers and pilgrims was gone, replaced by a thriving city. New palaces rose along the shore, their banners unfamiliar. The temple, now complete, gleamed under the sun, its sanctum housing the idols of Jagannath, Balabhadra, and Subhadra, worshipped by a new generation. Indradyumna, his white robes tattered, stood at the gates, a stranger in his own dream. The people stared, their eyes curious but unknowing, as if he were a ghost from a forgotten age.

A young king, Gala, ruled Puri, his court claiming the temple as his creation. Indradyumna approached, his voice hoarse but firm. "I am Indradyumna, builder of this temple, guided by Vishnu's vision." The guards laughed, their spears blocking his path. "The temple is King Gala's legacy," one said, "built by his fathers." Indradyumna's heart sank, the weight of time crushing his spirit. The idols, still radiant, stood on the Ratnavedi, but their eyes seemed distant, as if mourning his absence.

He sought Gundicha and Vidyapati, but they were gone, lost to the centuries. The Savara tribe remained, their descendants still tending the temple, their songs echoing Viswavasu's wisdom. An elder, her face lined with age, recognized the amulet Indradyumna wore. "You are the king of legend," she whispered, her eyes wide. But Gala's court was unmoved, their pride in their king's claim unyielding. Indradyumna retreated to the shore, his heart breaking anew. "Have I lost my purpose?" he whispered, the sea offering no answer.

The Conflict with King Gala

The confrontation came at the temple's grand courtyard, where Gala held court amid priests and nobles. Indradyumna, his appearance frail but his spirit unbroken, stood before the young king. "This temple is my offering to Vishnu," he declared, his voice echoing with the weight of his journey. "I retrieved the Daru Brahma, saw the idols carved, and sought Brahma's blessing." Gala, his crown glinting, scoffed. "You speak of myths, old man. My lineage built this sanctum, and Jagannath is our glory."

The court was divided. Some priests, versed in ancient lore, whispered of Indradyumna's name, while others, loyal to Gala, dismissed him as a wanderer. The Savara elder spoke, her voice soft but firm. "The forest remembers the king who honored our ways." But Gala's nobles, their pride wounded, demanded proof. Indradyumna's heart ached, his vision of Vishnu now a distant light. He knelt before the idols, his tears falling on the sanctum's floor. "O Jagannath, speak for your servant," he prayed.

Gundicha's absence was a wound, her wisdom lost to time. Vidyapati's manuscripts, if they survived, were buried in forgotten archives. Indradyumna felt alone, his legacy stolen by time's cruel passage. Yet, the Savara's faith and the idols' gaze gave him strength. He stood, facing Gala. "Let the divine judge," he said, his voice steady. The court fell silent, the air heavy with anticipation, as if the cosmos itself awaited a verdict.