LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 56: What Soma Can't Quell
Golden rays from the divine sun poured through the opulent, intricately decorated windows of Lord Purandhara's palace, casting a mosaic of light across the hall's marbled floor. Having completed his morning rituals and presiding over the assembly of the gods, Lord Purandhara retired to his grand hall of leisure, a place adorned with the finest of celestial art and architecture.
As he entered, the melodious tunes of gandharvas tuning their instruments greeted him. Their music filled the air with a sense of serenity and divine joy. Lord Purandhara took his seat on his majestic throne, made of the purest gold and encrusted with sparkling gems.
He clapped his hands, the sound resonating through the grand hall like a bell. The celestial musicians ceased their tuning, and a serene hush fell over the assembly. A gentle breeze swept through the open windows, carrying the fragrance of celestial blossoms. The stage, adorned with garlands of flowers that never wilted, awaited the apsaras' entrance.
From behind silken curtains, the apsaras glided into view, their feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Their anklets jingled softly. Each apsara's costume shimmered with an inner light, hues shifting like the iridescence of a peacock's feather. As they moved, their garments caught and reflected the light, creating a dazzling array of colours that danced along with them.
Menaka, the lead apsara, stepped forward, her presence commanding yet gentle. Her eyes, pools of serene wisdom, locked briefly with Lord Purandhara's, acknowledging his place as both their sovereign and their audience. With a graceful sweep of her arms, she initiated the dance, and the music began—a harmonious blend of veena, flute, and tabla, each note perfectly attuned to the rhythm of the cosmos.
Lord Purandhara, seated on his majestic throne, took a deep sip from a golden chalice filled with soma, the divine elixir. His eyes, usually sharp and authoritative, were glazed over, lost in the depths of his thoughts.
As the sweet and potent liquid slid down his throat, a bitter thought accompanied it: Why can't I stop the darkness spreading in Bhu Loka? I'm the king of the gods, yet I feel so powerless. Is it my fault the barrier is sealed?
The apsaras' graceful movements, once a source of joy, now blurred into a haze. His eyes drifted, unfocused, as he took another sip, the once enthralling performance unable to pierce through his clouded mind.
Look at them, he thought, his eyes barely focusing on the dancers. So perfect, so harmonious. And here I am, drowning in soma, trying to forget how incompetent I feel.
Menaka's arms curved and swayed like the branches of a willow in the breeze, her fingers tracing delicate patterns in the air. The other apsaras followed, their synchronization flawless, each step a testament to their unity and grace. Their bodies told stories of ancient times, their motions narrating the creation of the world, the eternal dance of time, and the battles fought to maintain cosmic order.
And what about Atisha? he thought, a pang of guilt striking him. Did I really do right by her? Was it fair to her? No, no... His paranoia crept in. She's powerful, too powerful. She could outshine me.
As the tempo of the music increased, so did the intensity of the dance. Menaka leaped into the air, her form suspended like a breath held in anticipation, before descending with the effortless grace of a leaf surrendering to the wind. Her eyes blazed with the passion of a thousand suns as she depicted a fierce battle between gods and demons, her every movement a strike, a parry, a victory. The apsaras mirrored her, their dance now a powerful, collective force, the hall echoing with the silent thunder of their feet.
Lord Purandhara's gaze lingered on the swirling soma in his chalice. He drank deeply, each gulp an attempt to dull the jagged edges of his responsibilities, to numb the beauty before him that he felt unworthy to witness. His fingers tightened around the cup, and he sighed, lost in memories and regrets that the soma had brought to the surface.
But I am the lord of the heavens, he asserted to himself, trying to quell the insecurity gnawing at him. I must be. Who else can bear this burden?
Across the hall, Sachi, Lord Purandhara's devoted consort, watched him with a mixture of concern and interest. She noted his disinterest in the performance, his repeated sips of soma, and the faraway look in his eyes. Her heart ached to see him so detached, so unlike the vibrant ruler she had always known. She glanced at the apsaras, their radiant dance unnoticed by her husband, and sighed softly.
The final act of the dance was a celebration of peace and victory. Menaka and her troupe circled together, their movements a joyous proclamation of harmony restored. Their costumes glowed brighter, reflecting the golden light of Swarga Loka, the colours now blending into a radiant white that symbolized purity and unity. The music soared, triumphant and free, the notes cascading like a waterfall of bliss.
As the dance concluded, Menaka and the apsaras struck their final pose, a display of divine elegance and strength. The hall erupted in applause, the gods and celestial beings rising in respect and admiration. Lord Purandhara, however, remained seated, his eyes fixed on the now-empty chalice. He barely noticed the end of the performance, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, the soma's influence evident in his vacant stare.
Sachi approached quietly, her presence a calming balm. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch a silent plea. "My lord," she whispered, her voice laced with concern, "the performance has ended."
He blinked slowly as if emerging from a deep fog. His gaze found hers, a faint, weary smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, Sachi," he murmured, the words heavy with exhaustion. "It was... beautiful."
Sachi's eyes searched his face, seeing the pain and distraction there. She could see the battle he fought within, a war that no amount of soma could ever truly quell. The weight of the heavens bore down on him, and she felt a deep ache, knowing she could not simply lift it away.
How can I help you, my lord? She thought to herself as her fingers brushed against his as she lifted the golden chalice from his grasp, the warmth of his hand lingering on the cool metal.