"Soma, it's up to you. I trust you won't disappoint the hope of everyone from Svarga." Agni stood tall amidst the dense forest, his flame-wreathed eyes calm. He placed a reassuring hand on Soma's shoulder and spoke with quiet sincerity.
Soma did not meet his eyes. His expression contorted with unease.
"I'll accompany him."
The words came from Rishi Brihaspati, who stood beside Soma with the stillness of one who had foreseen the storm. His voice was composed, but the weight in it was unmistakable.
"The garland of Rishi Durvasa holds immense power. The Asuras will come for it, and Shukra will be among them. You and I will face them together."
Soma's lips parted in a silent gasp. His expression tensed.
"I should go alone," he muttered, voice thick with guilt.
His hands fidgeted beneath the folds of his silver drape. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, clearly wrestling with himself.
"I'll go with you. I don't think you can face Shukracharaya," Rishi Brihaspati declared again, unshaken.
"May your words be gentle and your light," Agni said, stepping back. His fiery gaze softened, and he joined his hands in farewell. "Go with care, Soma. Do not stir his anger. Let the bond of family guide you."
Surya stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Soma's shoulder. "You're the only one who can reach him. Trust that."
Vayu smiled and nodded. "Speak with your heart. Durvasa may get angry, but he is still your brother."
Agni bowed his head slightly. "We will await your return. Bring us good news."
With that, the three Devas, Agni, Surya, and Vayu, pressed their palms together one last time.
"May your path be clear, Soma."
"May your mission bring peace."
"May you return safely."
Soma took a deep breath, then gave a solemn nod and stepped forward beside Rishi Brihaspati.
Brihaspati offered a faint smile before turning away, his saffron robes flowing with divine grace as he walked toward the exit of Svarga. His pace was steady, his bearing calm, but his mind was focused.
Together, they approached the celestial descent point. A radiant portal shimmered before them, formed by Vedic mantra and divine sanction. It pulsed with the rhythm of the cosmic order, linking the immortal realm to the mortal plane.
With a murmur of prayer, Brihaspati raised his hand. The veil parted.
Soma glanced once over his shoulder. The skies of Svarga were bright and still. The Devas watched from afar, offering silent blessings.
And then, without hesitation, Soma stepped through.
Light enveloped them.
In the next breath, their feet touched the soil of Bhuloka.
The mortal world greeted them with its weight. The forest was dense, the ground warm, the air thick with the scent of ghee and sandalwood. Not far ahead, the sacred heat of the yajna shimmered in waves. The spiritual pressure rolled outward in pulses, dense and heavy, infused with the power of tapasya.
Even Brihaspati's expression grew tense as he adjusted the folds of his cloth.
Soma clenched his jaw. Panic curled in his chest, but he steadied himself and followed.
They moved down the forest path without a word, the silence broken only by the low hum of chanting that grew louder with each step.
Rishi Durvasa's yajna was near.
Suddenly, they halted.
A group of Yakshas knelt reverently before the altar, their jeweled armor glinting in the firelight.
Soma's steps froze. His breath caught in his throat.
"Are we too late?" he whispered.
Beside him, Rishi Brihaspati narrowed his eyes, reading the tension in the air.
At the center of the gathering, the Yaksha leader, Kubhodara, guardian of the eastern vaults, pressed his palms together and bowed low before Rishi Durvasa.
"Great Rishi," he said, his voice deep and steady. "Grant us the garland, and we shall offer you treasures beyond measure. The gold of Alaka, gems unearthed from the roots of Mount Meru, and the sacred water from the lake of purity in Yakshavana."
The other Yakshas echoed the vow in unison, their heads lowered in solemn devotion.
All around, the air grew tense. The Yajna Agni crackled louder, as if stirred by the weight of their request.
Rishi Durvasa did not answer at once.
His face darkened. Slowly, he turned his head, and a deep silence filled the grove.
Then.
"Silence!"
The roar cracked through the trees.
His voice echoed in all directions like thunder unleashed from the heavens. Fire erupted from the Yajna Agni, swirling outward in tempestuous waves. The forest trembled.
Rishi Brihaspati and Soma froze, eyes wide.
A single thought blazed in their minds.
Durvasa was enraged.
The Yakshas knelt motionless, their expressions frozen in horror. They could not comprehend the fury they had provoked.
Durvasa's eyes burned. Flames leapt from his irises, and the ground itself seemed to recoil.
He stared them down like the wrath of Rudra incarnate.
Rishi Durvasa's eyes burned with divine fury as he thrust out his hand, pointing directly at the kneeling Yakshas.
"This yajna is the culmination of my tapasya, the essence of lifetimes spent in austerity and silence."
Rishi Durvasa's voice thundered through the sacred grove, shaking the leaves on the trees.
"And you… Yakshas…"
He raised his arm, pointing at them with righteous fury.
"You dare reduce it to an exchange of riches? You think sacred penance can be bought with gold and ornaments, with vaults and dancers?"
The flames behind him surged higher, their heat pulsing like wrath given form.
"You have insulted the sanctity of this offering with your pride."
He turned sharply, took two powerful strides back to the altar, and lifted the golden kalasha filled with sanctified water. Then, with a swift motion, he hurled the water directly at Kubhodara.
"I curse you," Durvasa declared, his voice echoing like thunder across the forest. "Let the treasures you hoard abandon you. Let every gem turn to dust, every vault crumble, and every follower flee."
"From this day, you shall walk as one who has nothing. Let your pride be stripped, your name forgotten, your wealth reduced to silence."
The air shimmered. A pulse of divine energy surged through Kubhodara's form.
In an instant, his ornaments darkened and fell. His golden belt snapped. The gemstones on his brow cracked and dissolved into the earth. The attendants around him vanished like mirages.
Kubhodara collapsed to his knees, clutching at empty hands, his voice caught in a strangled gasp of disbelief.
The remaining Yakshas stared in horror as his jewels turned to dust and his silken robes wilted into rags. The weight of Durvasa's curse pressed on them like a storm.
Then panic took hold.
Without a word, two of them rushed forward, hoisted the now-weakened Kubhodara onto their shoulders, and bolted into the forest.
The rest followed, stumbling over roots and stones, their earlier chants of devotion drowned in the frantic rustle of leaves and the thunderous retreat of unsteady feet.
Durvasa turned away, his wrath spent, and returned to the fire.
The flames crackled softly once more, as if the forest itself had bowed to his will.
Durvasa stood motionless, eyes still blazing, the air around him heavy with spiritual force. The flames of the yajna settled once more, but the scent of wrath lingered in the wind.
Soma gasped, his face going pale.
A sharp breath escaped him. "That was brutal…"
"There's no one left. We need to move in, now," Brihaspati said, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the distant figure of Durvasa.
"Teacher, I swear I don't know him well," Soma said quickly, raising his hands in protest. "Seriously. We're not close at all."
But Brihaspati grabbed Soma by the wrist and yanked him forward. "No time."
They rushed through the towering trees, moving swiftly toward the altar. Their feet barely touched the ground.
But they weren't the first to arrive.
A figure in pristine white robes stepped from the shadows of the forest. His presence chilled the air around him.
Boom.
The sound of a staff striking the earth echoed like an omen.
An elderly Rishi with snow-white hair stood at the forefront, leading a procession of Asuras. He walked without fear, directly toward the altar still crackling with divine fire.
Boom.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting shifting patterns on Brihaspati's face. His expression flickered like a sky split by lightning.
"Shukra," he muttered, recognizing the man at once.
Shukra, Guru of the Asuras, turned slowly. He gripped his staff, eyes locked on his old rival.
Their gazes clashed like two storms meeting at sea. A silent battle raged in the air between them, heavy with history and tension. The forest around them shimmered with the pressure of their unspoken challenge.
"It seems I arrived first," Shukra said with a cold smirk.
Then he turned his eyes to the heart of the altar, where Durvasa's sacred flames still blazed.
"There's no mistake."
Rishi Shukracharya shifted his gaze slightly, joined his hands in reverence, and bowed to the cold-faced sage before him.
"Pranam Rishi Durvasa."
His voice was clear, composed. Shukra was known for his bluntness—he spoke with conviction, never hiding behind diplomacy.
"We have also come for your garland," he declared. "If you entrust it to the Asuras, we shall guard it with our lives. It will be honored, enshrined, and treasured."
"The Devas already possess Amrita. The Asuras have nothing. To preserve balance in the Triloka, I implore you, please grant the garland to us."
Shukra bowed again, his hands still joined.
Boom.
It felt like thunder had cracked through the sky, echoing in the minds of the watching Devas. Everyone of them tensed.
Agni leaned forward, eyes fixed on the altar in the distance. Surya dabbed his brow with a silken cloth, jaw clenched as he looked upward. Vayu and Varuna stood silent, fists tight, gazes locked on Rishi Durvasa.
This garland must not fall into Shukra's hands.
Rishi Durvasa's face remained like carved stone. His eyes pierced through Shukracharya without a flicker of warmth.
"Shukra."
The name left his lips like the rumble of a gathering storm.
Durvasa's voice rose suddenly, thunderous, shaking the silence.
"You think I don't know the nature of the Asuras? You think I would entrust my garland to those who twist the Dharma, who live by deceit and desire?"
"Never. I will not offer the symbol of my penance to those who defy righteousness."
"Leave."
The sound of his rage shook the forest. It rang like war drums in the air.
Shukracharya flinched, his body tilting slightly as he stepped back. The Asura generals behind him scowled, their hands moving swiftly. Weapons of black iron and forbidden power materialized, and their eyes flared with fury.
But then—
Snort.
Rishi Durvasa's snarl cracked through the tension like lightning. His glare cut through them as he raised the golden kalasha in his hand. The fire around the altar surged higher.
The Asuras froze.
Fear flickered in their eyes as they stared at the vessel. Even in their pride, they knew the danger it carried. They hesitated.
"A perfect opportunity," whispered Brihaspati, his eyes gleaming with clarity.
This was their moment.
If Durvasa had not given the garland to the Asuras, then it would still be within reach.
"Let's go." Brihaspati stepped forward, calm and swift.
Soma glanced back, still shaken, but followed quickly behind.
"Pranam Rishi Durvasa," Brihaspati said as he reached the altar, his tone smooth and respectful. He pressed his hands together in a formal greeting, smiling.
"Pranam Rishi Durvasa," echoed Soma, bowing in turn.
Hmm.
Durvasa slowly turned his head. His sharp eyes moved over both figures, unreadable.
He looked from the Dev of the Moon to Brirhaspati at his side. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and then his expression darkened once more.
"Just the two of you? Where is the King of Svarga?"
---
Yakshas are guardians of nature and hidden treasures. Their forests are described as mysterious and sacred. Lakes in such forests are believed to have purifying or even magical properties.
A famous related story is the Yaksha Prashna from the Mahabharata, where a Yaksha guards a sacred lake and tests Yudhishthira before allowing him to drink its water. One by one, his brothers ignore the Yaksha's warning, drink the water, and fall lifeless. However, Yudhishthira listens carefully and answers the Yaksha's deep philosophical questions with wisdom and patience. Pleased with his answers, the Yaksha revives all his brothers. It is later revealed that the Yaksha was actually Yama, testing his righteousness.
Kubera, the treasurer of the gods, rules Alaka. It is described as a city full of gold, jewels, and luxury beyond imagination.
Mount Meru, also known as Sumeru or Mahāmeru, is a sacred cosmic mountain in Hindu cosmology. It is described as the centre of the universe, around which all physical, celestial, and spiritual realms are organized.