A week passed like a whirlwind of frenzied activity within the Daitya palace. The once opulent halls were transformed into bustling workshops, where skilled artisans crafted the intricate paraphernalia required for the yagna.
The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and sacred herbs, as Asura priests and scholars poured over ancient texts, their voices raised in solemn chants. Under the watchful eyes of Diti, the Asuras toiled tirelessly.
Indeed, it was a spectacle that defied the very essence of their existence. The Asuras, renowned for their chaos and destruction, were now engaged in a ritual synonymous with order and creation. It was as if the roles had been reversed, the hunters becoming the hunted, the destroyers becoming the creators.
The irony was not lost on anyone. Rakshasas, who reveled in bloodshed, were now meticulously arranging flower petals for the sacred fire. Danavas, experts in deception, were engrossed in studying ancient Vedic hymns. Even the Daityas, with their inherent pride and arrogance, found themselves humbled by the solemnity of the occasion.
Diti's impatience was palpable. Her voice, usually filled with command, now carried a hint of desperation. "Hasten your preparations," she said, her gaze sweeping across the bustling crowd. "The full moon approaches today, and with it, our destiny. Let us waste no time in completing this ritual. Once the yagna is complete, we shall march on Swarglok without delay !"
Her words ignited a fresh wave of enthusiasm among the Asuras. The prospect of imminent battle rekindled their warrior spirit.
With a final surge of activity, the preparations for the yagna reached completion. The colossal sacrificial altar stood at the heart of a vast, cleared expanse, its structure a testament to the Asuras' ingenuity.
The full moon, a luminous orb hanging high in the night sky, casted an otherworldly glow on the proceedings. As the appointed hour drew near, a palpable tension filled the air. The Asuras, their bodies taut with anticipation, waited with bated breath for the arrival of Subramanyam. His presence was essential to initiate the sacred ritual.
Diti paced nervously in front of the altar. Her eyes darted from side to side, scanning the horizon for any sign of the sage. The weight of anticipation was heavy upon her. The fate of the Asuras rested on this moment.
With each passing moment, her impatience grew. She glanced at the full moon, its radiant glow casting an ethereal light on her face. Time seemed to slow down, each second an eternity.
A sudden sharp sound cut through the tense silence - the unmistakable sound of a stick hitting the ground. The Asuras, their attention riveted on the darkness beyond the yagna-vedi, strained their eyes to pierce the gloom. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Subramanyam. Surrounded by darkness, his form appeared to glow with an inner light, casting an ethereal radiance that defied the night.
Subramanyam moved with a deliberate grace, his steps echoing softly in the night. As he reached the center of the assemblage, he stood tall, his gaze sweeping across the colossal yagna-vedi and the expectant faces of the Asuras. His eyes seemed to penetrate the darkness, illuminating every corner of the sacred space.
Diti, her figure tense with anticipation, stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the sage. With a curt nod, she joined her hands in a gesture of respect, a facade that barely concealed her impatience. "Greetings, venerable Subramanyam. Commence the yagya, quickly."
Subramanyam's lips curved into a serene smile as he regarded Diti. His voice, calm and measured, cut through the expectant silence. He told, "Bring forth Ajashakti."
Without a word, Diti turned and disappeared into the depths of the palace, her steps echoing through the still night.
.
.
.
.
Ajashakti emerged from the bathing chamber, his body glistening with droplets of water. He was a vision of masculine perfection, his tall, muscular frame seemed to be sculpted by years of rigorous training. His skin, bronzed by the sun, shimmered with a golden hue.
He was surrounded by a bevy of young maids, their delicate hands busy drying his body with soft, silken cloths. The once pristine garments he wore clung to his body, accentuating the musculature beneath. His long hair, usually styled with a warrior's pride, was now damp and unruly, framing his face with a wild, untamed beauty.
The Asura ladies, with gentle hands, draped Ajashakti in a simple white garment, its purity a stark contrast to the opulence he was accustomed to. Gone were the ornate jewels and the heavy armor that symbolized his power.
Ajashakti's gaze met his reflection, his expression a mask of indifference. There was a strange sense of detachment in his eyes, as if he was observing a stranger. He ran a hand through his damp hair, his fingers trailing through the thick strands. With a gentle touch, he adjusted his beard, shaping it into place. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he twisted his moustache into its usual curl.
"Ajashakti !" Diti burst into the bathing chamber, her impatience evident in her hurried steps. Her eyes, usually filled with a regal authority, held a touch of desperation, "It is time. The sage awaits."
Ajashakti turned around, and acknowledged her order with a command. With a steady gait, he followed Diti out of the bathing chamber and into the labyrinthine corridors of the palace.
As they emerged from the palace, the night sky, adorned with a million stars, welcomed them. The grand courtyard, transformed into a sacred space, was bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight.
Subramanyam was seated in a meditative posture before the colossal yagna-vedi. The flickering flames of the sacrificial fire cast dancing shadows on his face, lending an ethereal glow to his already imposing figure.
Subramanyam's gaze met Ajashakti's. The sage gestured with a graceful hand, inviting him to take the seat. Ajashakti approached the podium. Just as he was about to lower himself into a seated position, Subramanyam's voice, clear and resonant, halted his movement. "Hold on ! Where is your wife ?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Ajashakti's gaze shifted to Diti, who stood a short distance away. Her composure, usually unwavering, seemed to have faltered. A flicker of unease passed across her face, a stark contrast to her usual demeanor. The unexpected question had thrown a wrench into the carefully orchestrated plan.
"I am asking something." Subramanyam's voice, firm and unwavering, repeated the question, "Where is your wife ?"
"I do not have a wife," he replied, his voice steady, but his heart pounded in his chest for some reason.
Subramanyam rose swiftly from his meditative posture, his body radiating an aura of indignation. His voice, once calm and measured, now carried a sharp edge of disapproval.
"Without a wife, a man cannot partake in yagna ! For he is incomplete !" he declared, his words echoing through the silent courtyard.
Subramanyam turned to leave, his figure a stark silhouette against the backdrop of the sacrificial fire. Diti, her composure shattered, rushed forward to intercept him.
"Please, sage," she pleaded, her voice laced with desperation. "Do not abandon us now. Perform the yagna."
Subramanyam paused, his gaze fixed on Diti. His expression was one of compassion, tempered with firmness. "Ajashakti must first fulfill the sacred rite of marriage. Only then may the yagna commence."
With these words, he turned and walked away, leaving the Asuras in stunned silence.
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A/N
Khel toh ab shuru huya hai 🌝
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AJASHAKTI ANUGAMINI : An HHS Spinoff
Fantasy"If destiny prevents you from being born of my womb, then let us forge a different path. Forsake your divinity, your memories. Become a Daitya." Driven to the brink by the ceaseless annihilation of her sons, Daitya-Mata Diti yearns for vengeance. Bu...
