Messenger of Peace

SoSo

@So-So

As the great war of Kurukshetra loomed, the celestial realms trembled. The gods, their divine eyes piercing the veils of time, beheld a vision of unparalleled devastation. They saw the earth itself weeping, rivers of blood flowing where once stood mighty kingdoms. Alarmed by this apocalyptic future, they hastily convened atop the resplendent Mount Meru, its golden peaks piercing the heavens.

"My fellow deities, we stand at the precipice of cosmic calamity. This war threatens not just the mortal realm, but the very fabric of dharma itself. We must act, yet our hands are bound by the laws of divine non-interference." Lord Indra, his thunderbolt crackling with nervous energy, spoke first.

Brahma, the Creator, his four faces grave with concern, stroked his flowing white beard. His eyes, containing the wisdom of countless ages, gleamed with a spark of inspiration.

"Perhaps," he mused, his voice resonating with the hum of universal creation, "we need not act directly. What if we were to choose... a mortal master?"

"Speak on, O Creator.” Vishnu in his celestial form leaned forward, intrigued. “What manner of mortal could possibly sway the tides of such a monumental conflict?"

"One who embodies the very essence of humanity! Humble yet extraordinary. A soul so pure that their actions could humble even the mightiest of warriors and pierce the veils of hatred and pride." Brahma's eyes twinkled as he spoke.

Shiva, the Destroyer, who had been silent until now, spoke. His voice rumbling like distant thunder.

"Yes, I see the wisdom in this. A mortal, touched by our divine grace, yet bound by human limitations. Their struggle and triumph would resonate far more deeply than any direct intervention from us."

The assembly of gods murmured in agreement, the very air around them shimmering with divine energy as they contemplated this fateful decision.

“You are all right. Why don't we take a look at the mortal world?” Saraswati interjected.

A hush falls over the divine assembly as they ponder over this suggestion. They descended into the region of Dwarka, their divine forms hidden behind mortal disguises. They strolled through the busy streets and observed the people.

First they found a warrior. But his arrogance was unbearable. Then they discovered a suitable merchant. He treated his servants badly and put his greed above all else. Then they approached the banks of the Yamuna. There they discovered a simple potter working diligently at his wheel. His name was Dhruv. After questioning him closely, the gods exchanged knowing glances, impressed by Dhruv's generosity, fairness and humility. They all nodded in agreement, their divine goal was to be set in motion by the most unlikely of mortals! A simple potter named Dhruv. Satisfied, they returned to Mount Meru.

There they discussed who should deliver this crucial message to Dhruv. Finally, Saraswati, the goddess of wisdom, was chosen for the task. With her knowledge, she was able to convey the gravity of the situation to Dhruv. Moreover, her connection to the sacred river that once flowed through Kurukshetra gave her a unique connection to the impending conflict.

The assembly of gods nodded in agreement, their divine energies coalescing around Saraswati as she prepared to undertake her crucial mission.

Dhruv, the potter lived a life of quiet simplicity in the humble village nestled along the sacred banks of the Yamuna River. As the village slumbered under the soft glow of a crescent moon, Saraswati, the radiant goddess of wisdom and arts, descended from the celestial realms. She entered Dhruv's dreams, her presence illuminating his humble dwelling with an otherworldly light. Her voice, melodious as the flow of sacred rivers, resonated within Dhruv's consciousness.

"Dhruv," Saraswati spoke, her words carrying the weight of divine purpose, "you have been chosen for a task of cosmic significance. You must journey to the depths of Patala, the mysterious netherworld, and retrieve the Celestial Clay hidden within its cavernous realms."

Dhruv, his dream-self trembling before the goddess's magnificence, found his voice. "But why me, Divine Mother? I’m only a simple potter, unworthy of such a grand quest."

Saraswati's smile was as warm as the first rays of dawn. "It’s precisely your humility and the purity of your craft that make you the ideal choice, Dhruv. The Celestial Clay, when shaped by your skilled hands into a divine vessel, will possess the power to contain the very essence of war itself, potentially averting the looming conflict that threatens to engulf our world."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with the promise of a destiny far greater than Dhruv had ever imagined for himself.

As dawn broke over the village, Dhruv sought out the local guru, his heart heavy with the weight of his divine dream. Finding the wise man near the temple, Dhruv recounted his nocturnal encounter with goddess Saraswati.

"Revered Guru," Dhruv began, his voice trembling, "last night, the goddess Saraswati appeared in my dreams. She spoke of a great task. I should retrieve the Celestial Clay from Patala. But I’m just a simple potter. How can I undertake such a journey?"

The Guru's eyes widened, recognizing the significance of Dhruv's vision. He stroked his beard thoughtfully before responding.

"My son, you have been blessed with a rare gift. Saraswati herself has chosen you for this sacred duty. Her wisdom is beyond mortal comprehension. If she believes you capable, then you must trust in her judgment."

Dhruv listened intently as the pandit continued, "Goddess Saraswati is the embodiment of knowledge and creativity. Her blessings can transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. You may be a humble potter now, but with her guidance, you could shape the very essence of our world."

Encouraged by the Guru's words, Dhruv felt a surge of determination.

"Embrace this divine calling, Dhruv. Goddess Saraswati's choice is never without purpose. Your skills as a potter, guided by her wisdom, may be the key to fulfilling this cosmic task. Go forth with courage, for you carry the blessings of the goddess of knowledge herself."

Dhruv's journey to Patala was fraught with peril. He navigated treacherous underground rivers, outsmarted cunning Nagas, and faced his deepest fears in the Cave of Illusions.

At last, he reached the heart of Patala, where the Celestial Clay lay guarded by Vasuki, the king of serpents.

"Mortal, to claim the clay, you must answer three riddles. Fail, and your life is forfeit." Vasuki hissed.

Dhruv swallowed hard. He knew, this was his last challenge, to get the Celestial Clay.

“Illustrious King of the serpents. I am just a simple potter. Who am I to contradict you? So ask me the riddles and I will answer them!”

“Well said, mortal! Here’s the first one:

"I have no hands, yet I move the heavens.

I’m silent, yet I mark the passing of moments.

All creatures heed me, though I utter no word.

What am I?"

“No hands…, move heavens… silent… mhh..!” Dhruv muttered and thought feverishly.

„My King, you could only mean Time. Because it moves the heavens, is silent, and governs all creatures without speaking!”

Dhruv looked at him expectantly. Vasuki nodded.

“Well done, mortal! Let’s see if you can solve the second one too! Listen carefully!

"I’m lighter than air, yet none can hold me.

I’m the key to life, yet invisible to sight.

Without me, even kings crumble to dust.

What am I?"

Dhruv looked at him in confusion.

“Keys to life, kings crumble to dust... This is not easy, my lord!”

“Only the best get the Celestial Clay, mortal!” replied Vasuki.

“Then hear my answer, my king. It’s air! Air is weightless and yet vital. Without it, life ceases, no matter how powerful you may be.

Vasuki nodded in affirmation. The Nagamani on Vasuki's head began to glow faintly.

“You're not doing too badly, mortal! Listen to the third and final riddle.

"I can hide but never lie.

I live in the light, yet vanish in the dark.

Seek me in stillness, for there I show the world.

What am I?"

Dhruv looked at him bewildered.

“Live in the light…, vanish in the dark…, stillness, show the word...” he muttered. Sweat formed on his forehead. What could the king of snakes possibly mean by that? A thought flashed through his mind and he began to smile. “Dear King, let me solve the riddle. It’s a mirror. A mirror can conceal itself when it’s not illuminated, but it reveals the truth when it’s still and illuminated .

Vasuki's Naganami began to glow in a bright blue, and he nodded in approval.

“Mortal, I’m impressed! You have solved every riddle. You are worthy of the Celestial Clay!”

He handed Dhruv a bowl of clay. “Now go and fulfill your task!” he hissed.

Relieved, Dhruv accepted the bowl. How could a simple vessel he had created avert the impending conflict that threatened to engulf the world after he had passed these challenges?

As Dhruv emerged from the depths of Patala, the Kurukshetra battlefield erupted before him. The air crackled with tension as two vast armies faced each other, their weapons glinting in the harsh sunlight. At the forefront stood Arjuna, his Gandiva bow at the ready. Opposite him, Duryodhana sneered, his mace gleaming with malice.

Between them, Lord Krishna's divine presence radiated calm amidst the chaos. As Dhruv approached, a hush fell over the assembled warriors. With hands that no longer trembled but moved with otherworldly grace, he began to mold the Celestial Clay. The earth itself seemed to hold its breath. As Dhruv worked, an extraordinary phenomenon unfolded. The clay began to glow with an inner light that pulsed in rhythm with the heartbeats of all present. Warriors from both sides, drawn by an inexplicable force, gathered around the humble potter. Bhishma and Drona exchanged glances of wonder, while even the fierce Bhima lowered his mace in awe.

Time seemed to stretch as Dhruv's fingers danced over the clay. When he finally lifted his hands, gasps of amazement rippled through the crowd. Before them stood not just a pot, but a vessel that seemed to contain the very essence of the universe. Its surface shimmered with scenes from past, present, and future, showing both the glories and horrors of war.

Krishna stepped forward, his eyes twinkling with divine wisdom.

"Behold," he proclaimed, his voice resonating across the battlefield, "a vessel formed from the stuff of creation itself. It holds the power to contain not just the fury of this war, but the consequences of all conflicts to come. Will you fill it with your wrath and doom generations, or will you recognize the futility of this strife and choose a nobler path?"

The vessel pulsed, and for a moment, every warrior saw visions of what might come to pass! The devastation, the loss, the endless cycle of vengeance. Arjuna's bow slipped from his grasp. Duryodhana's face paled. Even the mightiest among them felt humbled before this manifestation of cosmic truth. In that profound moment, as if guided by an unseen hand, the leaders of both armies stepped forward. Words of peace, unthinkable mere moments ago, now flowed freely. The great war, poised on the knife's edge of devastation, was averted.

Dhruv's creation, pulsing with divine light, became more than a symbol. It became a beacon, guiding humanity towards unity and enlightenment, a testament to the power of a single, pure-hearted act to change the course of destiny.

In the celestial realm of Mount Meru, the divine assembly was pleased with their choice and watched with profound satisfaction. Vishnu's chakra spun softly, casting a golden light of approval, while Saraswati's veena played a subtle melody of cosmic harmony. Shiva's trident gleamed, marking the significance of their chosen mortal. They created a luminescent mandala of divine approval. Dhruv's humble hands became the instrument of cosmic balance, transforming the potential devastation of Kurukshetra into a moment of profound enlightenment. The universe held its breath, knowing that they had found their most unexpected and powerful messenger of peace.