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Lightning and the Sun

"The world of men resonates with a lot of talk about ignorance lately." The celestial sage, Narada, mentioned to Indra as they walked along the cloud-paths above the firmament. "But as is its nature, a growing debate creates more questions than it answers. After all, if ignorance is merely a lack of knowledge, why does it touch learned men? If it is the inability to keep an open heart, why do so many great wanderers come back empty handed?"

Indra looked over at his companion briefly before turning away to consider. He wasn't surprised by the topic, however suddenly it came, for Narada's penchant for philosophic ambush was well known and it was usually best to take his eccentricity in stride. Fortunately, Indra was in the mood for a good contention like only Narada could provoke, and the topic wasn't a bad one to expound on either.

"A point you've failed to consider, maharishi," Indra began deliberately, addressing the sage by his title. "is the ability to make learning relevant to your niche in life. Can one really be considered enlightened if he cannot use his knowledge to see what is and is not dharma?"

"Ah," Narada smiled beatifically. "so true ignorance cannot discern, good from bad or the noble from the ignoble."

The king of the demigods chuckled and conceded magnanimously. "You've hit the mark. If my kingdom required less of my time, I too could have learned to be as eloquent."

"You know as well as I, king, eloquence is only gilt, whereas belief is the foundation of god and man." Compliments weren't Narada's concern though he received them copiously; effortlessly understating them had become as much a part of his nature as sly provocation. The sage wiped the mischievous smile from his lips before Indra noticed. "So then, you would agree that the inability to discern the transient from permanent is also a form of ignorance."

"If we are speaking of men, yes." Indra replied confidently, pausing a while to watch a gentle breeze stir the leaves of the parijata tree. "But if we are speaking of sages, who are closer to gods than men, their attachment to the temporary is born out of unwillingness than inability."

Narada beamed openly, the rich light of his halo sparkling directly with his satisfaction. "So, it is true that worshiping the demigods for their temporary placation is an act of ignorance on the part of common men and sages?"

Indra started and almost immediately, his eyes flashed dangerously and the clouds that touched his feet darkened as a sign of his displeasure. Still, he managed to speak evenly. "Pray, maharishi, who told you this?"

Narada laughed pleasantly, as if they were still engaged in friendly debate and seemingly oblivious to an angry growl of thunder. "Not just to me, O king. The child Krishna, who must be a prophet on Earth, is telling it to all the brahmins of Vrindavan. I tried to stop him, of course," Narada offered hastily when a spark of lightning nipped at his feet. "but you must know children these days--everything is an opportunity to incite revolution."

Indra sneered distastefully. "And these self-respecting brahmins heed his words?"

"Decide for yourself, Devendra." Narada counseled wisely. A gesture of his hands parted the clouds to reveal Bhumi-devi's realm, dressed in organic greens and golds. "It is nearly the new year, when the Earth waits for rain to yield the farmers' livelihood, and yet the halls of Heaven do not echo with hymns to the bringer of rain. Govardhan Mountain receives them, instead."

"Impossible!" Indra countered, yet Narada always managed to rattle his confidence. Reaching across space, he called to the sacrificial fire and Agni materialized in a tongue of orange flame. But sadly, it was only to confirm the sage's words.

"It is true; the hymns chanted are for Govardhan Mountain." Agni said, looking bright and full from having consumed so many offerings. "The spirits and deities that live in virtually all of creation attend the festival."

"Of course they do," Narada affirmed with a rapturous sigh. "It is what Krishna ordered."

Agni nodded a little too enthusiastically and his faraway eyes glowed with pleasure. "The personifications of the holy rivers and other sacred mountains bow to Govardhan. Cows are gilded in gold and silver; splashing in the water, one trips on precious stones; food and milk flows generously to the needy regardless of caste...oh, and verily, Krishna appeared in an immense form to personally accept all of it--"

"Alright, enough!" Indra clenched his fist and glared at his heavenly brother so moisture rose into the air, dulling some of Agni's luminance. "You mean to tell me that the upstart is stealing the gifts and libations meant for me!"

"Were meant for you," Narada chimed in, reclaiming the god-king's attention, much to Agni's relief. "It's not stealing if they are giving it to him willingly."

Indra fumed and then turned to the sage, who hadn't lost his air of serenity, and clasped his hands. "Maharishi, this is an outrage! What must I do to end this blasphemy and ruin this poisonous vine before it grows?"

Narada winced dramatically and clutched at his heart. "What a thing you ask of a word-peddler, Devendra! If you wanted to challenge Krishna to a battle of poetic exclamations, I can be of some help, but ruin and poison are not my realm."

"Well, I suppose..." Indra began, seeing the point.

"But!" Narada continued as if he hadn't heard. "You know who does dabble in those things? Lord Shiva, who favors you above all others. It is a long and dreary way up to Kailas, but I daresay you'll find the journey is worth it."

Narada gave a knowing smirk and Indra quickly inclined his head, looking flustered. "Always, maharishi, farewell." Thick fog wrapped his form and then collapsed on to itself when he disappeared.

-ii-

Traversing Kailas was exactly the ordeal Narada predicted. A blizzard raged overhead and a freezing mixture of sleet and rain continually blasted and recarved the minutest details of the mountain, firmly reminding (or warning) the rare traveler of the nature of its lord. Moreover, one could never be sure whether the intervals of dismal howling came from the wind or from the wandering phantoms that were never far from the ascetic god. Many stopped at this point and turned back to the relative safety of the foothills, but Indra pressed on through stinging ice as quick and deceptive as any astra and thick sheets of fog that sometimes parted, but most times revealed cold, dead eyes and flew away while shrieking with laughter. No doubt their master knew of his presence, but Indra wasn't a fool enough to expect a welcome. In fact, there was no guarantee that he would see Shiva on the peak for all his troubles, as great men had discovered and subsequently wasted away by exhaustion or disappointment.

Still, Indra pressed on, ignoring stone-ice shrapnel that cut his skin and left welts that were sure to be painful once the numbness wore off. The weather was his realm and more than once he was tempted to order the blizzard away, except one did not meddle with the atmosphere of another's home. While his feet trudged along the invisible path, Indra looked up at the heavy clouds. They were tinged dark gray like Kamadeva's ashes, a testament to anger and instant retribution like he would wreak upon the people of Vrindavan. There was no forgiveness for their going astray and disregarding vedic rituals on the word of a child, who he was sure had to be some sort of an asura in disguise or at least adept at spinning maya, given the account of his deeds.

But before Indra could consider it further, a piercing squawk resounded above the wind and a terrified snowcock burst out of a snowbank, bowling almost comically to safety behind his foot. It chirped pitifully in askance, burrowing into the hem of his silk garments. As if by magic, a snow leopard materialized out of the same snowbank and snarled menacingly at Indra, demanding the return of its prey. The king of the demigods was surprised by its temerity, but stood his ground.

"This creature has sought refuge from the king," Indra stated firmly, near instinctively. "Find your prey elsewhere."

The big cat shifted in agitation and tossed its head, as if it sought to brush Indra's command off that easily. With astonishing fluidity, it pounced, only to collide with the demigod's own body.

"You might as well try to take a piece from me, but I won't yield this creature to y--." Indra had no sooner spoken the words than the leopard pounced again, burying its teeth into his shoulder and knocking him back into the ice. Indra grunted in pain, feeling adamantine fangs sink into his flesh, and burn not like a mortal creature, but like a supernatural weapon. This was no normal predator.
Instantly, he summoned the thunderbolt, wrapping it effortlessly around his right hand to strike the beast, but the leopard somehow moved faster than lightning itself and trapped the offending hand in its jaws. Its great paws rested heavily on his body, effectively immobilizing him until a spasm of pain bought him eye to eye with the cat. It still held his wrist to stave off the thunderbolt, but its unfocused eyes couldn't quite decide where to direct it. As a favor to himself, Indra let it strike the sky and groaned when the effort left him breathless; blackness crept along the corners of his eyes and threatened to render him unconscious until the cat stepped off. Its fangs were still bared, but far from resuming their battle, it gave a rumbling purr and gently licked the spray of blood from his wrist.

Barely aware of himself, Indra shuddered at the warmth trailing over the rest of his arm, over the sweeps of his collarbone and finally to his injured shoulder where it licked the wound as well as the side of his face. Still reeling, Indra hoisted himself over on to his side, stared blindly at the beast's dilated pupils--well, he really shouldn't be calling it a beast, for no base creature had the power to stop his favorite weapon--and recognized the bittersweet scent of a familiar narcotic. 

"My Lord Shiva," Indra inclined his head, though the pleased growl did nothing to comfort him. Few escaped Shiva's attentions unscathed even when he was perfectly serene; add datura poison to the mix and Indra duly entertained the prospect of a sizable problem.

The king found himself on his back again when Shiva's current form nudged him back with its great head. Indra squirmed under it's hot tongue and its sensual growls, but relaxed all the same because the heat from Shiva's body was beginning to melt the ice, revealing a soft carpet of moss and lichen. In the space of a blink, the ascetic god had resumed his usual avatar and smiled down at his victim. His eyes were smoky and deeply hypnotic like the serpent resting around his neck, and his mouth curved into the wicked smile of one who was used to bringing so many ends that subsequent creation was no more than a toy. But damned if it still wasn't the most arousing thing in the world. It was when Indra tried to reach out that he found his hands were themselves bound by the bodies of two snakes just beginning to come out of their hibernation in the blossoming heat. Still, unwilling to give up, Indra exhaled slowly and the clouds from his breath licked at Shiva's limbs before trickling down as water.

"Tricky little thing, aren't you?" Shiva chuckled, leaning over sinuously to kiss Indra's lips. It pleased him to be met with resistance and after battling it out with a tongue nearly as skillful as his own, he slipped past the demigod's lips and took over his mouth.

Indra suppressed a sigh of contentment and arched up. By now, he could feel his ankles bound together by another reptilian coil and a fourth serpent was beginning to drag her heavy body across his neck. He tried to nip at her with lightning, but she hissed back quite savagely, revealing needle-like fangs dripping poison.

Shiva laughed again, with a more maniacal ring. His hands teased Indra where the serpents' flickering tongues could not, sliding up powerful thighs and past obstacles of silk and gold to wrap his fingers around the real prize. "Whatever your reason, Devendra, I'm right glad you didn't turn back to the foothills."

Indra nodded hurriedly, unable even to utter a word when such skillful hands were driving him mad, though he understood. This wasn't at all like what Shiva did with Parvati, his counterpoint and consort; this particular union had no purpose except as a foray into the sphere of material pleasure, fueled by an excess of energy and drugs. Indra ensconced himself under that heat, giving his body over to the dualities of pleasure and pain. His wounds burned again, mixing sweetly with the euphoria of the serpents' poisonous bites and finally with the all-consuming exhilaration of being claimed by the greatest among gods. It was enough to make one question the truth of his own immortality, and Indra had quite forgotten his own as Shiva pressed him into earth and stone. It was so easy to get lost in this kind of ecstasy and like most transcended men permitted to the person of a god, Indra gave up trying to discern himself from the other. Whose hands gripped at muscular hips to serve as an anchor for his thrusts? Who arched up desperately, fighting gravity and the weight of sinuous coils? Whose moans rose above the wind and the howling phantoms? Finally, who gave a strangled cry and violently came just as the serpent around his neck tightened and struck at the hammering pulse at his throat?

When Indra found himself, the ground had become lush with green grass and even a few dandelions that bobbed their heads at humming dragonflies. The spring scene was a far cry from the frozen tundra of before, but such was the work of the earth and the seminal fluid of gods. He moved carefully to get up; immortals' bodies healed instantly, but Shiva's marks were more persistent than that. Speaking of which, Indra looked around the glade and found the god, now in the form of a mendicant dressed in leopard skin, being attended upon by the snakes.

Indra went over to touch his feet. "Glory to you, my lord, who is the refuge of the oppressed and the remover of obstacles."

"You have my blessings, dear king," Shiva smiled serenely, looking less feral than before, but certainly not docile. "But surely, you could have asked for them without making this journey."

"I come to you in the hour of my need, great one, to tell you personally of the atrocities being committed on the earthly realm." Indra lowered his eyes and began to relay the reason for his visit. He related Narada's message, and Agni's confirmation and finally the words uttered by Krishna. He didn't withhold his anger, not before the very god of destruction, instead he let his grievances spill from his lips like bile until the clouds darkened again with his rage.

”Do not let him not escape with this ignominy, my lord; I beseech you."

Shiva looked thoughtful and finally replied, "But why do you not gather your host, who are ready to go to the ends of the world at your command?"

"That tiny demon leads even the demigods astray with his clever illusions and has the temerity to personally subvert my name in their eyes." Indra's hands closed around Shiva’s right foot reverently and he bowed his head, though the weak shadows couldn't obscure the resentment in his eyes. “By your grace, I have remained immune to challenge his claims, but you are the true bringer of ends, my lord. Help me ruin him.”

Shiva gave a low indulgent chuckle. "It is a wonder you plan to challenge him at all, for I know you have received word of his miracles."

“Putana, Trinavarta, Kaliya…” Indra checked off each infamous name like seeds on a rosary. "An impressive repertoire, although what favor he found in our eyes by defeating those creatures was nullified when he declared that a mere hill is worth more than the gods!" The heat increased and Indra's reproach crackled around him like electricity. "He...he practically accused me of propagating ignorance, said that to worship my host is to mistake lightning for the sun…"

And suddenly, the real source of his anger became clear.

"...but is the Sun himself not under my rule?” Indra pointed up to the pale yellow disk gliding forlornly behind thick fog. “Are not the elements? Man needs us to survive!"

"Ah, Indra, you have spent too much time in the Heavens,” Shiva said deliberately. “Else you would know there is more to life than survival."

Indra acknowledged what was unspoken regarding duty and the principles of dharma, but it didn’t change his mind—much like mere words meant nothing to a charging elephant. "How can men dedicate their lives to truth when they undermine their absolute gods?” The king asked. “Can one drowning in the sea of illusion be saved if he does not reach up?"

The previously arid climate turned humid as the clouds returned. Slowly, the hand on Shiva's foot came up to cup the back of his calf and Indra laid his forehead on his bare knee, clearly aware of the electricity that passed between them. "There is none more devoted to you than I, my lord who is my last sanctuary. Even as I speak for my host in Heaven, I come before you simply as Indra. Accept me as I am, and restore my weight on earth as it is in Heaven."  

For a terrifying moment, Shiva did not move or indicate that he acknowledged his plea in any way. Then, Indra felt two fingers under his chin, tipping his head up and Shiva sympathetically ran a thumb along the side of his face, leaving gray trails of ash over alabaster skin. "You know it is not my nature to turn away one who has taken refuge at my feet, Mahendra. Go to the earthly realm and I will help you fight your battle, but beware a wise warrior does not depend on the sword to judge the wisdom of any challenge. That is his own responsibility and the consequences will also be his to bear."

-ii-

When Indra descended to earth's atmosphere on his four-tusked white elephant Airavat, Vrindavan was a teeming pool of joy and color. Men, women and children alike danced around the be-garlanded mountain which rose like a living spire of benediction, while his own altar remained sadly empty save for a meager offering of betel leaves, which someone had likely set there as an afterthought. In stark contrast, Krishna was being offered gold and getting fed milk and sweets by the women who were entranced by the sound of his flute...it was almost obscene. At one point, the blue-skinned brat even looked up and smirked as if he could see Indra standing there, witnessing the travesty.

The king felt his lips curve into a sneer, a part of his conscious already suggesting that he make use of the thunderbolt now as the kid provided such an easy target, sitting still like the whorl of a lotus flower whose petals were content to play satellite. But where was the satisfaction in killing one flower when he could destroy the whole forest? They always said that the second generation was better than the first, so there was no reason it could not apply in this case as well. Indra smirked mirthlessly and tapped Airavat behind his ear, spurring the mount forward. With a near apocalyptic trumpet, Airavat charged forward and broke through the last barrier of clouds and light, upsetting carefully arranged decorations and crushing oil lamps underfoot. The villagers drew back from the beast with a gasp of dismay. The few brave men who deigned to stay before the elephant backed away when Indra appeared in wrathful glory, dressed for battle in burnished armor and a good many weapons bristled around him like the sunrays. Women shrieked, and their children ran into the protection of their shawls much like that snowcock had sought the protection of his garment in Kailas. They truly were simple creatures, easily led and easily cornered...only now, whom would they seek for refuge?

"Welcome Mahendra." A youthful voice beside him called out cheerfully. Krishna appeared instantly like magic and held a bowl of sweets while a splendidly dressed girl beside him produced a tray of anointing powders, though her eyes kept sliding back to Krishna almost helplessly.

"The festival is not over yet," Krishna continued happily. "Will you stay to take some food?"

Indra glared back. "I elect not." He made a dismissive gesture, but took the time to scrutinize the child. He couldn't be more than eight years old, but his voice sounded eons old and for an instant,(Indra was sure it was a trick) his eyes twinkled not with reflected light, but with actual stars.

"Be sure, you're missing out." Krishna returned, with the mock flippancy of a mother trying to fool a child into compliance. He reached into the bowl himself and ate a sweetball. "It's quite good." 

Perhaps it had been a long time coming, or it was that self-satisfied expression, but in that instant, Indra reached his breaking point. Answering an unspoken command, Airavat's trunks lashed out to knock the bowl from Krishna's hand, but the boy caught all four in mid swing and refused to let them move another inch. Krishna laughed gaily, looking even more cherubic than before, but Indra suppressed the urge to cringe at the expression in his eyes.

"Excitable, isn't he?" Krishna said calmly, petting the now bruised appendages while the elephant whined pathetically. "Perhaps he does not understand that you do not intrude on the tributes of the others."

Indra laughed in near hysteria. "What a fine thing for you to say, you who have arranged this sham of a festival upon the day of the Indra-yajna! What is the purpose of that if not to intrude upon my dues?"

"It wasn't the intention at all, Indra." Krishna replied. "I simply felt my people needed to be reminded of their priorities and the true path to enlightenment. As the greatest immortal king of the age, surely you too wish the best for your subjects."

"They had the best," Indra countered and swept a baleful glance over the awestruck populace. "Until they abandoned their prescribed rituals, abandoned me, who faithfully sent them rain and relief from the sun's rays! If this is how my diligence is repaid, they will be punished for their insolence!" Airavat trumpeted again and the sky turned into a backdrop of darkness, textured by clouds and threaded with lightning.

"You know, a king is marked as a failure," Indra stated, his tone colored with menace. "when his subjects suffer for his sins."

There were tense murmurs and the whole agitated pack surged around Krishna, watching as Airavat lumbered back into the sky and disappeared behind thick clouds no mortal was meant to see. The samvartaka clouds which, in an age long ago, created the cosmic flood billowed forth in the iridescent greens and blues of a peacock's feather. One deafening crash of thunder later, the village was drenched; the first raindrop filled the river to overflowing, the second drowned the fields, the third one turned unpaved roads into mud and each subsequent drop only added to the chaos. 

Indra smiled when the kaleidoscope that was formerly Vrindavan shattered like glass into misery and fear. And just when it seemed like it couldn't get worse, Indra invoked the strength Shiva had promised and passed it on to his host, effectively turning them into their most savage forms. Agni raced down as lightning, Vayu as the typhoon uprooted trees and Varuna hardened into sleet that would have tried a traveler on Kailas. A collective exclamation of horror went up among the villagers and a low chuckle resonated in his head. 

"Well, never let it be said that you don't know how to sorely test someone."

Indra started at Shiva's voice, though he knew why the ascetic god was here. It was terrifying down there and as such, it was an ideal stage for a dance of dissolution. Indra listened for the rhythms of thunder and heard the wind create harmonies by mixing with fearful screams...or what were supposed to be fearful screams. Nudging a thoroughly maddened Airavat once more, Indra hovered over Vrindavan and watched incredulously as Govardhan Mountain rose into the air and the villagers scrambled gratefully into its shadow.

"What...?" Indra hardly dared to breathe when he finally picked out the mountain's resting pivot: a tiny blue glow that had to be Krishna. Even more miraculous, it rested on his little finger while he stood by in complete repose, as if posing for a portrait. Under the shade of that mountain, it was bright as day thanks to the effulgence from Krishna's body and while the peoples' moon-bright faces looked out towards the flood like bored children, they looked at Krishna with staggering trust and faith. And Krishna continued to smile.

"Tricky little thing, though nothing like you."

Indra pulled himself out of his reverie and pursed his lips. Hurling a thunderbolt at the slacking clouds, the whipped them into a greater fury so the storm took a mind of its own, hell-bent on nothing less than total destruction. "Mountains have been lifted before. Let's see how long this lasts."

-ii-

"Seven days, and he still hasn't broken a sweat. I daresay he's enjoying this."

"Then, my lord, it is time for me to put an end to this." Indra said flatly. Mere anger had drained from him days ago to be replaced by a competitive spirit that really wanted to see the final showdown. He had stared at that all-preserving blue glow for a while now and had to admit he was rather impressed. Krishna really did seem to be cut from kingly cloth.

"Though I wonder why I haven't heard of him in other realms." He asked Shiva conversationally as Airavat took him closer to Govardhan.

"You and your host have the capacity for infinite knowledge, but you aren't above forgetting. Sometimes, the most obvious answers are hardest to find."

Indra frowned and bowed his head, searching his memory. It wasn't an easy task, considering the sheer amount of it. "What is it that I've forgotten, my lord?"

There was rueful laughter. "Perhaps I could have answered if you asked on Kailas, but it was likely His plan that you didn't. Do not fret, Devendra, sometimes it pleases Us to be met with resistance."

Indra hesitated at and passed one more glance at the mountain. Shamefully, he realized that he had actually disregarded Shiva's previous warning to consider the wisdom of the challenge before issuing it; Krishna, for his part, had been fully prepared for disaster and had pleased the appropriate deities well in advance. It pained him to see that particular point of light, but his actions were also the mark of a failed king. 

"I won't win."

"The time for regret has passed, you must see it even to that end. Now, ready your hand so I may fulfill my obligation."

Indra dared not argue, and even his noise of agreement turned into a half-choked cry as Shiva entered the thunderbolt coiled around his hand. Whatever doubts he had dissipated at the feeling of raw power trembling in his palm, seeking a target. It was too late to surrender and it was too late to call it off...

"Yet, never too late to learn."

The king of the demigods nodded; it was all he could get from this now, but it was a comforting thought to realize that knowledge was never transient. He knew now that his coming out of this unscathed rested on Krishna's grace, but if he did, never again would he claim the lights of the sky greater than the one true, all-preserving light that he saw under that mountain. What he had said about survival had been wrong as well; he was not the one who single-handedly preserved the Universe and consorted with Fortune to let it progress. He couldn't even discern true devotion from worship by fear.

Looking up, Indra raised his hand and hurled the thunderbolt with all his might, like an arrow of doom across space that seemed infinite in the darkness.

He didn't know what to expect, but he wasn't surprised that Krishna caught it like he had caught Airavat's trunk only days ago. That had been a chance to redeem himself as well, a last attempt at peace that he had trodden down, blinded by pride and indignation.

There was another blinding light as the thunderbolt came back, only this was cleansing--a literal and perfect example of retribution, of his hubris returning to destroy him.

...never too late to learn. Shiva's advice came back to him and Indra stood still for one last moment, before his fingers flew up to frantically strip his armor and toss his divine weapons into the reaches of space. Finally, those same fingers clasped together and spelled his surrender for the seven worlds to see, for they were watching.

I surrender unto you, Lord Krishna, for you are All.

The only thing that remained after was a flash of blue.

-ii-

Birds were twittering when he woke up again on lush grass and dandelions, except now, the sky was dark and winking joyfully with stars. He started up, wondering if he had dreamt the whole thing, but this wasn't Kailas. A herd of cows lowed soothingly a while away and looking at them, he realized. This was Govardhan mountain.

The scent of night-blooming flowers tickled his nose and even the air seemed to be vibrating with some sort of benevolence which surpassed even the joy of realizing he had survived the thunderbolt. Standing shakily, Indra glided over to where the cows were gathered in a small clearing, bathing in a soft light that came from...somewhere. There was no sun, and it looked too soft and steady to be a lamp. Indra peered through the vines and smiled to himself; of course, it was Krishna. The child had abandoned his youthful form for that of a full grown man, shining with opulence, and sat reposed on a mossy stone. Shiva, too, had settled on the grass beside him in a less terrifying avatar.

"All is well in Heaven?" Shiva was asking rather gravely, though his fingers were tracing the lines of lacquer on Krishna's foot, causing it to squirm.

"As well as I need it," Krishna replied. His ancient voice seemed to fit him now, though he was still painfully angelic. He tucked the flute into his cummerbund and sifted those clever fingers through Shiva's hair instead, where the Moon glowed exceptionally brightly. "But you didn't tell Mahendra who I was." He said softly, after a pause. "It was a risky gamble to make, that he would realize it himself and surrender to me in that last instant."

Indra was surprised to see Shiva nod. "I have faith in Mahendra." The ascetic-god replied. "His madness is like lightning; stark yet momentary. I think what came after was fully worth it, and I'll gamble that he does as well."

Indra leaned back against a tree trunk. Of course, it was worth it, and it went far beyond saving his throne. There was a lot more at stake here, like the end of an old era and the dawning of a new future for all three worlds. He was merely the first step in a grand scheme to bring order to the universe from top down. Far from making him feel infinitesimal, it was actually liberating to realize that he had been marked for redemption than removal. 

"And you know We are never far from each other." Krishna's voice carried over the soft winds. "Now that Heaven is stable again, we will see each other when we dance together on the greatest battlefield known to man. Till then, dear one, we must take our leave."

Indra looked back in time to catch Krishna place his lips on Shiva's, and the whole world seemed to stir as they quite literally melted into each other. Shiva's presence faded like a rapturous sigh and only the child Krishna tumbled into the grass below. The cows snuffled affectionately and Krishna huffed at them while replacing his diadem with all the boyish charm in the world. "And what, my ladies, is so funny?"

Parting the vines, Indra entered the glade with clasped hands and bowed head. He was ready now, to lay his heart at those feet and on cue, his heavenly host appeared behind him to receive their blessings and pledge their loyalty to the one who made them all shine. The night would ring with hymns to the true light that made life possible, which Krishna seemed to produce with his smile alone.

God continually turns you from one state of feeling to another, revealing truth by means of opposites...so you may have two wings: fear and hope.
--Rumi.