As he looked upon the obelisk rising high towards the stratosphere, he had something in mind. An emotion. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He had caused enough destruction via his ignorance. Now even if he wanted to feel sorrow, he couldn’t. The Gods had punished him enough. There was no point in digging dead graves anymore.
He was a God. Enraged with the folly of his contemporaries, he had decided to let loose his anger and break through upon the atmosphere his perseverance and his enigmatic displeasure. The dam of his preserved emotions – which was the ultimate code of the Gods - had been broken. Now Uttarakhand was drowning. Could it be called his fault?
He thought not.
Not after the citadels of power conspire towards yourself.Not after the framework of the famed psyche of the immortals is nothing but soot and cinder.
At the end of the day, there were 3,000,000,000,000,000 planets, and counting, in the universe that had life on them. Although it was agreed, efficiently, in the orient that there were more gods above, but what separates a cyclone from a random fart?
Life that was simple, pragmatic and efficient. Not the mess that Earth had now become.
But Earth was special.
It was the first.
The First.
He now remembered the first time he was hailed as a talent. The Gods were pleased. Shiva wasn’t present, but Vishnu was there. Oh yeah, Vishnu himself. Brahma had given his consent. Narada had called him ‘The next big thing’ in infinite creation.
He’d soon ascended faster among the ranks than time could keep track of. The ill-devised war against the Asuras happened soon. The Thunderbolt, right after that, felt even sooner. Right at the height of his power, he had ensured that his name would now be etched across the echelons of divine service in the pantheons of time, among those legends.
Or so, he thought.
The conspiracies followed suit.
The perpetrators were underestimated.
The fall was imminent.
Like all ruling motifs are perverted abstractions of idiosyncrasies, it was a misunderstanding that led to his fall.
He could not help it.
He wasn’t known as Indra the Emperor of the Heavens for nothing.
He couldn’t help storming out of the assembly in disgrace.
The Gods were present there too. But this time, there were frowns on their faces.
All it would’ve taken was one moment of calm.
A specialized effort on peace and meditation. A nude musing on the big picture and it's nerve-syntax,
But who can really comment about the efforts of the Immortals in a neutral way except them themselves.
All it took was one moment.
The Void was a special passage that ensured the ignition of the weapon into the haunting, black expanse of the Universe.
The Thunderbolt could’ve gone anywhere.
It reached Earth.
More specifically, Uttarkhand.
Madness followed suit.
Destruction.
At the click of a hand.
As he walked barefoot in the long grass towards the rain-tempered rocky openings of an echo that would now be preserved into infinity, nobody recognized him, as he reached the memorial site of the man in whose memory the obelisk was dedicated.
A few people stared but that’s all. Some god, deservedly.Sure.
He looked at the stone.
This was in memory.
In memory of a man who had sacrificed his life to save 300 fellow humans in a Superhuman effort of strength and courage.
Questioning his conscience for the first time, Indra the Immortal wondered about the supreme notion of justice that operated amongst us in the throes of creation.
The obelisk was a metaphor.
A stone made of granite, grey-colored.
On the stone were inscribed the names and salutations of those 300 survivors that had been saved by this titan of a man, amongst many others.
Underneath was the name – “Indra Kumar”, a common man.The namesake had instead reached Kingdom Come.
God and Man were one.Truth's wardrobe was now undone.
On his mind, the Lord finally realized the lingering emotion as he shed a tear.
It was awe.
He was a God. Enraged with the folly of his contemporaries, he had decided to let loose his anger and break through upon the atmosphere his perseverance and his enigmatic displeasure. The dam of his preserved emotions – which was the ultimate code of the Gods - had been broken. Now Uttarakhand was drowning. Could it be called his fault?
He thought not.
Not after the citadels of power conspire towards yourself.Not after the framework of the famed psyche of the immortals is nothing but soot and cinder.
At the end of the day, there were 3,000,000,000,000,000 planets, and counting, in the universe that had life on them. Although it was agreed, efficiently, in the orient that there were more gods above, but what separates a cyclone from a random fart?
Life that was simple, pragmatic and efficient. Not the mess that Earth had now become.
But Earth was special.
It was the first.
The First.
He now remembered the first time he was hailed as a talent. The Gods were pleased. Shiva wasn’t present, but Vishnu was there. Oh yeah, Vishnu himself. Brahma had given his consent. Narada had called him ‘The next big thing’ in infinite creation.
He’d soon ascended faster among the ranks than time could keep track of. The ill-devised war against the Asuras happened soon. The Thunderbolt, right after that, felt even sooner. Right at the height of his power, he had ensured that his name would now be etched across the echelons of divine service in the pantheons of time, among those legends.
Or so, he thought.
The conspiracies followed suit.
The perpetrators were underestimated.
The fall was imminent.
Like all ruling motifs are perverted abstractions of idiosyncrasies, it was a misunderstanding that led to his fall.
He could not help it.
He wasn’t known as Indra the Emperor of the Heavens for nothing.
He couldn’t help storming out of the assembly in disgrace.
The Gods were present there too. But this time, there were frowns on their faces.
All it would’ve taken was one moment of calm.
A specialized effort on peace and meditation. A nude musing on the big picture and it's nerve-syntax,
But who can really comment about the efforts of the Immortals in a neutral way except them themselves.
All it took was one moment.
The Void was a special passage that ensured the ignition of the weapon into the haunting, black expanse of the Universe.
The Thunderbolt could’ve gone anywhere.
It reached Earth.
More specifically, Uttarkhand.
Madness followed suit.
Destruction.
At the click of a hand.
As he walked barefoot in the long grass towards the rain-tempered rocky openings of an echo that would now be preserved into infinity, nobody recognized him, as he reached the memorial site of the man in whose memory the obelisk was dedicated.
A few people stared but that’s all. Some god, deservedly.Sure.
He looked at the stone.
This was in memory.
In memory of a man who had sacrificed his life to save 300 fellow humans in a Superhuman effort of strength and courage.
Questioning his conscience for the first time, Indra the Immortal wondered about the supreme notion of justice that operated amongst us in the throes of creation.
The obelisk was a metaphor.
A stone made of granite, grey-colored.
On the stone were inscribed the names and salutations of those 300 survivors that had been saved by this titan of a man, amongst many others.
Underneath was the name – “Indra Kumar”, a common man.The namesake had instead reached Kingdom Come.
God and Man were one.Truth's wardrobe was now undone.
On his mind, the Lord finally realized the lingering emotion as he shed a tear.
It was awe.
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