The night had descended upon Chaitanya Lok, Amarsri was asleep, her features looked remarkably delicate, as if sculpted by the hands of divine artisans. Her radiant hair cascades in flowing tresses, kissed by moonlight. Her head was nestled tenderly in the lap of her beloved husband.

With tender care, Srinav's hand rested upon his wife's head. His fingers, possessing an otherworldly softness, caress her silken tresses, combing through each strand with infinite love and adoration. His touch, feather-light and yet powerful, evoked a sense of profound comfort and safety, that she could feel even in her slumber.

With eyes filled with affection, he took in the delicate slope of her nose, the gracefulness of her arched eyebrows, and the faint whisper of a smile that danced upon her lips even in slumber. It seemed as though sleep had failed to conquer him, for he was more interested in watching the serene countenance of Amarsri rather than sweet dreams.

"Kintu Mata mujhe woh anushthaan karna hi hoga !"

"Parantu Shankaraakshya, koi nahi jaanta uss anushthan ki vidhi."

The voices of Jabala and her son fell over Srinav's ears. A small smile appeared on his face, as he looked at them with his divine vision.

"Lagta hai sahayata karne ka samaye agaya hai." He muttered.

Then gently holding the head of Amarsri, raising it ever so slightly with one hand, he placed a pillow underneath so her slumber remains undisturbed. And so he left the room in silence.

-------

Shankaraakshya and Jabala were in midst of an argument for the little boy wanted to perform a ritual for Harihareshwari, that was performed once by Dashagreev Ravan to summon her. However Jabala was insisting against it because, the mystic instructions to perform this ritual had been lost in the annals of time.

Emotions swirled in the room as the mother and son exchanged words, their voices filled with equal parts of determination and uncertainty. Jabala was worried of the dangers that may lurk behind a forgotten, mysterious ritual. But for Shankaraakshya, the ritual seemed to be the only solution for his existential problems.

"Kintu putra, bina niyamo ke gyaan ke anushthan kaise karoge ?" Jabala asked.

"Mai niyamo ka pata laga lunga." Shankaraakshya said determined.

"Lekin kaha se ? Kisse puchoge ? Putra, hum asur hai. Manushya humari sahayata nahi karenge. Tumhe kya lagta hai ? Jo manushya tumhare nikat nahi ana chaahte woh tumhe gyaan denge ? Koi sahayata nahi karega tumhari." Jabala tried to reason.

"Mai sahayata karunga." A voice fell on their ears as a strange aura suddenly filled the air.

Jabala and Shankaraakshya froze, their gazes diverted toward the entrance of the room. There, in the threshold, stood a figure draped in flowing saffron robes, a celestial presence exuding from his every pore. His eyes glimmered with a depth of wisdom that transcended mere mortals. Dreadlocks adorned his head while a long dark beard cascaded down his face, reaching till his broad chest.

The mother and son felt a shiver race down their spines, just by merely looking at him.

"Kanya, jo anushthan tumhara putra karna chaahta hai, uske niyam kaha milenge, woh mujhe bhali bhaat gyaat hai." He said, his voice resonated with an otherworldly timbre.

"Aap kaun hai Brahman-devta ?" Jabala asked, joining her hands in reverence.

"Bhargav." He said with a smile.

Shankaraakshya's heart pounded in his chest, his desire to fulfill his goal growing stronger with every passing moment. Even Jabala's skepticism was replaced with a newfound faith, for some reason.

"Yadi unn niyamo ka gyaan chahiye toh mere saath chalo." Bhargav said.

"Mujhe chahiye !" Shankaraakshya said, and then looked back at his mother, who gave him a nod of permission.

Bhargav smiled before turning back on his feet and walking ahead. Shankaraakshya followed him behind excitedly. They both ventured through the village, which was still awake at this hour of night, busy in ungodly activities.

"Hum kaha jaa rahe hai, Baba ?" Shankaraakshya asked.

Hearing the little boy address him as 'Baba', Bhargav stared at him for a moment. This instinctive gesture, born from Shankaraakshya's pure heart, deeply touched his soul for some reason. A tender smile appeared on the face of Bhargav.

"Shardapeeth ke pustakalaye mei." He said softly.

"Pustakalaye ? Woh bhi itni raat ko ? Iss samaye dwaar band honge." Shankaraakshya said.

"Jab dridh-iccha shakti satya aur dharmparayan ho, toh daiviya shakti ke kripa se sabhi dwaar khul jaate hai." Bhargav said.

"Daiviya shakti ?" Shankaraakshya muttered confused.

"Jabalaputra !" A voice called from the side, where few men along with young boys were heavily intoxicated.

"Itni raat gaye kaha jaa raha hai ?" The teenage Asur from earlier, came towards him with wobbly drunken steps.

"Tumse kya matlab ?" Shankaraakshya asked, taking a step back, repulsed by the smell of wine.

"Yeh vyakti kaun hai ? Tera Pita hai kya ?" He asked, his voice was laced with mockery.

"Ha." Bhargav said, stepping in front of Shankaraakshya. As soon as the teenage asur caught sight of the godly sage, his bravado faltered.

"Aur mai chaahta hu ki tum mere putra se dur raho. Anyatha tumhare saath kuch bhi anuchit ho sakta hai." Bhargav warned, his voice as firm as the flow of a river.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming love and protective energy radiating from Bhargav, or the unwavering strength he exuded. Whatever the reason, the teenager backed off in fear, not daring to challenge the seemingly divine presence standing before him.

"Aapne mujhe apna putra kaha ?" Shankaraakshya looked up at Bhargav.

"Tumne bhi toh mujhe Baba kaha tha." Said Bhargav with a warm smile.

He lightly patted the child's shoulder, his touch gentle yet reassuring. Shankaraakshya felt both blessed and lucky to have crossed paths with this fatherly figure.

"Ab chalo." Bhargav said and walked ahead, and the little boy trailed behind with a wide smile on his face.

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A/N

Bhargav making entry after a long time ✨✨

Waise kya ab kisi ko pata chala Shankaraakshya tum sabka kaunsa tuta huya sapna pura karne wala hai ?
🌝🌝