(A/N):
Drop a here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comnts and power stones... Which will encourage ...
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When no doors opened...
When no villager answered his challenge...
When even his threats failed to lure anyone outside...
Sage Veenadhara Kashyap’s face darkened.
For several monts he stood silently in the middle of the road.
The flower-filled village remained quiet.
Not a single person erged.
The sage’s eye twitched.
Then he let out a cold laugh.
"Fine."
His voice echoed through the empty streets.
"If words cannot bring them out..."
He slowly reached for the veena resting beside him.
"...then perhaps a song shall."
The villagers hiding inside their hos imdiately groaned.
Several even buried their faces in their hands.
One elderly farr muttered,
"Not again."
His wife sighed.
"At least this ti he’s only singing."
Outside, Veenadhara gracefully sat beneath the massive banyan tree located near the center of the village.
The tree’s enormous branches stretched over much of the square.
Its shade normally served as a gathering place for villagers.
Today it had beco the stage of an exceptionally irritated sage.
Veenadhara adjusted his robes.
Placed the veena upon his lap.
Closed his eyes.
Then his fingers moved.
The first notes floated through the air.
Beautiful.
Absolutely beautiful.
Even Devara had to admit it.
The sage’s mastery over music was genuine.
The lody danced through the flower fields.
It flowed between the houses.
It carried a rhythm that could easily captivate listeners.
Then the lyrics began.
And imdiately the beauty vanished.
At least for anyone paying attention to the words.
"Oh hear , people of Mallikavana..."
The sage sang.
His voice carried impressive power.
Yet every line dripped with contempt.
"You hide behind walls and doors..."
"You tremble before a wandering sage..."
His fingers moved skillfully across the strings.
The lody remained elegant.
The ssage did not.
"What courage lies within your hearts?"
"None."
"What wisdom fills your minds?"
"None."
The sage shook his head dramatically while singing.
His expression overflowing with disappointnt.
"You fear a challenge."
"You fear a question."
"You fear a song."
The lyrics beca increasingly harsh.
Inside their hos, villagers listened in silence.
Many had already heard similar songs before.
Yet sohow each version beca worse.
The sage continued.
"Why burden the earth with such fearful lives?"
"Why walk beneath the sun if courage does not dwell within you?"
"If a simple challenge sends you running..."
"Then perhaps the wind possesses greater bravery."
Several villagers rolled their eyes.
One old grandmother muttered,
"The wind doesn’t have to listen to him every day."
Nearby, her grandson nearly laughed.
His mother imdiately covered his mouth.
Outside, Veenadhara remained completely unaware.
Or perhaps he simply didn’t care.
The song continued.
Each verse growing more dramatic.
Each criticism becoming more exaggerated.
Eventually the lody shifted.
The tone changed.
Devara imdiately noticed.
The criticism ended.
And sothing else began.
Self-praise.
A great deal of self-praise.
Far too much self-praise.
Veenadhara lifted his chin proudly.
His fingers danced across the strings.
The lody beca grander.
More heroic.
More triumphant.
Almost as though he was introducing a legendary emperor.
Except...
He was singing about himself.
"I am Veenadhara..."
"The Crown of Music."
"The Ocean of Wisdom."
"The Voice that Silences Scholars."
"The Master before whom Poets Bow."
Shakuni’s fake moustache twitched dangerously.
Devara wisely pretended not to notice.
The sage continued to sing.
"The Conqueror of Riddles."
"The Lord of lody."
"The Lamp of Knowledge."
"The Jewel of Learning."
Each title was delivered with complete sincerity.
Not a trace of embarrassnt.
Not a trace of irony.
Veenadhara genuinely believed every word.
The song continued growing more absurd.
Several villagers hiding inside their hos began predicting the next title.
Unfortunately, many guessed correctly.
"The Mountain before which talent kneels."
"The Moon among thinkers."
"The Sun among artists."
"The Lion among sages."
One farr sighed hearing all this words.
"He added three new titles."
His wife nodded after him.
"He always adds more when he’s angry."
Outside, Devara quietly listened.
His expression remained calm.
Yet a slight frown had appeared.
The king had expected arrogance.
Guru Durvasa’s letter had warned him.
But hearing it directly was sothing else entirely.
Then ca the next verse.
The one that finally made Shakuni almost choke.
Veenadhara spread his arms dramatically.
"As long as the heavens endure..."
"My na should be rembered."
"The people should sing my praises."
"Morning."
"Afternoon."
"And evening."
The sage pointed toward the houses.
His voice booming across the village.
"Build a temple."
The veena strings rang dramatically.
"Let songs of Veenadhara fill the air."
"Let future generations rember my greatness."
"Let children learn my verses before all others."
Inside the houses, several villagers looked utterly defeated.
One man whispered,
"Last month he only wanted a statue."
His friend sighed.
"The demands are evolving."
Even Devara had to look away for a mont.
Not because he was angry.
Because he was trying very hard not to laugh.
Shakuni noticed it too.
Unfortunately that only made it harder for him.
The minister coughed.
Twice.
-Cough! -Cough!
Then suddenly beca fascinated by a nearby clay pot.
anwhile, beneath the banyan tree, Veenadhara finished another grand verse praising himself.
The final note echoed through the village.
The sage opened one eye.
Waiting.
Expecting applause.
Admiration. Perhaps awe.
Instead... Silence.
Complete silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
No doors opened. No windows moved.
Not a single villager erged.
A flower petal drifted past.
Sowhere in the distance a cow mooed.
That was all.
The sage’s eyebrow twitched.
"...."
Again. Then again.
Devara watched from atop the bullock cart.
The king’s frown deepened slightly.
Not because the sage was talented.
He clearly was.
Not because the sage was knowledgeable.
That too was obvious.
The problem was simpler.
Veenadhara had spent so long admiring his own reflection that he no longer noticed anyone else.
And that...
More than any curse.
More than any enemy.
Was the very arrogance Guru Durvasa had sent Devara here to cure.
The final notes of Veenadhara’s song slowly faded into the evening air.
The sage remained seated beneath the great banyan tree.
His fingers rested upon the strings of his veena.
A self-satisfied smile lingered on his face.
Though the villagers had not erged from their hos, he wasn’t particularly concerned.
In his mind, they were listening.
They had heard every word.
Every verse. Every title.
Every reminder of his greatness.
That alone was enough to soothe his pride.
At least for the mont.
Then sothing caught his attention.
Movent.
A bullock cart.
His eyes imdiately shifted toward the road leading through the village.
The sa cart he had briefly noticed earlier.
Until now he had paid little attention to it.
After all, rchants were common.
Most avoided him after hearing his reputation.
But these two had remained in the village.
Even after the warning bell.
Even after everyone else had hidden.
More importantly... They were driving directly toward him.
Sage Veenadhara’s eyes brightened.
A hopeful smile slowly spread across his face.
At last.
Finally.
A challenger.
His disappointnt from earlier imdiately vanished.
He stood up so quickly that his robes fluttered around him.
The veena was slung over his shoulder.
His posture straightened.
His confidence returned.
The villagers peeking through tiny gaps in their windows imdiately noticed.
Several groaned.
"Oh no."
"He’s found new victims."
"Poor fellows."
One old woman folded her hands.
"May the gods protect those rchants."
anwhile, the bullock cart continued moving.
Slowly.
Calmly.
The two rchants seed completely unaware of the danger approaching them.
Or at least that was what Veenadhara believed.
The sage began walking toward the road.
His excitent visibly growing.
The closer the cart ca, the more convinced he beca that destiny had finally provided him with worthy entertainnt.
Soon he reached the middle of the path.
The cart continued approaching.
The bulls suddenly beca uneasy.
Their ears flattened. Their pace slowed.
The animals seed uncomfortable around the sage for so reason.
Devara noticed it too.
So did Shakuni.
Neither comnted.
Finally the cart reached the banyan tree.
Sage Veenadhara confidently stepped directly into its path.
The bullock cart ca to a halt.
One of the bulls snorted loudly.
The other pawed at the ground.
The sage paid them no attention.
His eyes remained fixed on Devara.
The disguised king sat casually atop the cart.
One hand resting upon a stack of pottery.
His enormous fake moustache looked particularly magnificent in the evening light.
Beside him, Shakuni adjusted his own disguise while trying not to smile.
Veenadhara lifted his chin proudly.
Then pointed directly at Devara.
The gesture was dramatic enough to make it seem as though he was declaring war.
His voice bood across the empty village.
"You!"
Devara blinked being pointed at.
"...."
Then looked behind himself.
The sage’s eyebrow twitched.
"Yes, you!"
Devara looked around again.
Then pointed at himself.
"?"
Veenadhara nodded proudly.
-Nod!
"Indeed."
The sage took another step forward.
"You have looked upon my face."
Technically true.
Devara had looked at his face.
Shakuni had as well.
Veenadhara smiled with a knowing look.
The smile of a man who believed events were unfolding exactly as they should.
"Therefore..."
He spread his arms dramatically.
"I challenge you."
The villagers listening from inside their hos sighed collectively.
Here we go again.
Sage Veenadhara continued.
"A contest of riddles."
"A competition of intellect."
"A battle of wisdom."
His smile widened.
"Should you defeat , I shall acknowledge your talent."
The sage paused.
Then added confidently,
"Though such a thing has never happened."
Shakuni almost laughed.
Devara remained calm.
The sage folded his arms.
"Well?"
His eyes glead.
He was already imagining the outco.
The rchant would accept.
The rchant would fail.
The rchant would be humiliated.
The rchant would learn of Veenadhara’s greatness.
Everything would proceed as usual.
After all...
Nobody refused Sage Veenadhara.
At least not successfully.
Then Devara spoke.
His tone was casual. Almost lazy.
"No."
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The entire village seed to stop breathing.
Sage Veenadhara blinked. Once. Twice.
Surely he had misheard.
"What?"
Devara adjusted a clay pot. Then repeated himself.
"No."
The sage stared at him as if he had told sothing which is nearly impossible.
Devara continued to speak.
"I don’t want to."
Silence. Absolute silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Inside the nearby houses, villagers froze.
Several people pressed closer to their windows.
Did he just... Did he really...
Sage Veenadhara remained motionless.
His mind struggled to process what had happened.
For years... Many years...
People had accepted his challenges.
So eagerly. So reluctantly.
So fearfully. But they accepted at last.
Nobody simply refused.
Not like this. Not so casually. Not so directly.
Not as though the challenge itself wasn’t worth considering.
The sage pointed at himself.
"Do you know who I am?"
Devara nodded his head obvious.
-Nod!
"You are the fellow who was singing about himself."
A few villagers imdiately covered their mouths.
Shakuni lowered his head.
His shoulders started shaking.
Sage Veenadhara’s eye twitched violently.
The sage tried again.
"I am Sage Veenadhara Kashyap."
Devara nodded again not intrested.
-Nod!
"Good for you."
Another twitch.
The villagers were now fighting for survival.
Not from fear. From laughter.
Sage Veenadhara took a deep breath.
Surely the rchant simply didn’t understand.
"You have looked upon my face."
"I challenged you."
Devara nodded once again maintaining his composure.
"Yes."
"Then accept."
"No."
The answer ca instantly.
Like a hamr.
The sage stood frozen.
For the first ti in years...
Possibly decades...
Soone had rejected him without hesitation.
Without fear. Without respect.
Without even the slightest interest.
The worst part? The rchant didn’t seem angry.
Didn’t seem intimidated. Didn’t seem impressed.
He simply looked like a man who had been offered extra work and politely declined.
Sage Veenadhara stared at him.
Completely stunned.
And sowhere inside the nearby houses...
A villager accidentally laughed too loudly.
Then imdiately slamd the window shut.
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(Author note:)
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Don’t forget to review guys...
Guys I have a new fic which nad: Karuppan: King of Openings.
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