(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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Veenadhara was confident because now this was familiar territory.
This was his battlefield.
Not songs.
Not argunts.
Not boasting.
A riddle.
A question woven through poetry.
A challenge crafted by his own brilliance.
The sage closed his eyes for a mont.
Then began reciting.
His voice carried smoothly through the evening air.
"I am born without birth."
"I die without death."
"The blind can see ."
"The sighted often cannot."
"I travel farther than the wind."
"Yet never leave my place."
"Kings seek ."
"Beggars possess ."
"The wise fear losing ."
"The foolish throw away."
"I grow larger when shared."
"I beco smaller when hoarded."
"No weapon can cut ."
"Yet a single lie can wound ."
"What am I?"
Silence followed as the sage finished his question.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The villagers exchanged looks.
Many had heard this riddle before.
Months ago.
While the Sage was confidence because he had never lost using this riddle.
Sotis in different kingdoms.
Sotis in royal courts.
Sotis among scholars.
Nobody had answered it correctly.
At least not completely.
The layered anings trapped most people.
That was why Sage Veenadhara loved it.
The sage slowly opened his eyes.
"...."
The confident smile remained.
His gaze landed on Devara.
Waiting.
Watching.
Expecting confusion. Expecting hesitation.
Expecting defeat.
Instead... The rchant smiled.
Not a forced smile. Not a nervous smile.
A genuine smile as if he understood the question of his.
As though he had just heard sothing amusing.
The sage’s confidence weakened slightly.
Devara looked up toward the sky.
Thinking.
For perhaps three heartbeats.
Then he answered.
"Reputation."
The smile remained on his face.
The sage blinked caught off guard by the sudden answer.
Devara continued calmly.
"It is born without birth because reputation has no physical form."
"It dies without death because it disappears when forgotten."
"The blind can see it through actions."
"The sighted often miss it while focusing only on appearances."
The villagers slowly leaned closer.
Sage Veenadhara’s smile began fading with each words Devara uttered through his mouth.
Devara continued.
"It travels farther than the wind."
"A good reputation reaches lands you’ve never visited."
"Yet it never leaves its source."
"Kings seek it."
"Beggars possess it."
"The wise guard it."
"The foolish waste it."
The sage’s eyes widened slightly.
"...."
The villagers began whispering.
The answer fit.
Every line fit.
But Devara wasn’t finished.
"It grows larger when shared."
"Because honor and goodwill increase when spread among others."
"It becos smaller when hoarded."
"Because selfishness destroys reputation."
His voice remained calm.
Steady.
Almost conversational.
"No sword can cut reputation."
"But a single lie can wound it."
Silence. Complete silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The villagers stared at Devara in shock.
They don’t know is this the right answer. But seeing the sage reaction they understood it must be.
Shakuni looked away and bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.
anwhile...
Sage Veenadhara forgot to breathe.
Literally.
The sage sat frozen.
His mouth slightly open.
"...."
His fingers tightened around the veena resting beside him.
His mind replayed the answer again.
And again. And again.
Every verse.
Every line.
Every layer.
The answer fit. Not partially. Not mostly.
Completely. Perfectly.
For the question he asked.
The sage had spent years asking that riddle.
Years.
Scholars had failed.
Poets had failed.
Ministers had failed.
Princes had failed.
Many ca close.
So understood portions.
Others understood different layers.
But none had ever solved every part so effortlessly.
Yet this rchant...
This annoying moustached rchant... Had done it after only a few monts of thought.
The villagers noticed the sage’s expression.
And imdiately realized sothing historic had just happened.
For the first ti...
Soone had answered one of Sage Veenadhara’s favorite riddles perfectly.
The sage stared at Devara.
His eyes wide. His mind blank.
His pride montarily forgotten.
Even breathing seed optional.
Finally...
After what felt like an eternity...
Sage Veenadhara managed to speak.
His voice sounded strangely small.
"...Correct."
The word left his mouth with enormous difficulty.
The villagers almost cheered.
Several had to cover their mouths.
One old farr silently punched the air in victory.
anwhile Devara simply nodded.
-Nod!
"...."
As though this were the most natural thing in the world.
Then he smiled. A calm smile.
The kind that made Shakuni imdiately pity the sage.
Because now... It was Devara’s turn to ask a question.
The banyan tree stood silent.
The flower fields swayed gently beneath the evening breeze.
Yet nobody paid attention to them anymore.
Not the villagers secretly peeking from their hos.
Not Shakuni.
And certainly not Sage Veenadhara Kashyap.
The sage was still frozen.
"...."
His mind remained trapped on the answer Devara had given monts ago.
For years he had asked that riddle.
Years.
Scholars had failed.
Court poets had failed.
No matter how many tis he thought he couldn’t shake off the sa thoughts from his mind.
Even several learned sages had stumbled.
Yet this rchant had solved it as casually as a man discussing the weather.
The realization was still sinking in.
Then suddenly—
-Ahem.
Devara coughed lightly.
The sound snapped Veenadhara back to reality.
The sage blinked several tis.
Almost like a man waking from a dream.
Devara smiled gently as he asked.
"Can I ask my question now?"
The villagers imdiately leaned closer.
Shakuni crossed his arms.
The sage quickly straightened his robes.
His pride refused to let him appear shaken.
Even if internally he was still recovering.
"Of course."
He nodded confidently.
-Nod!
"Ask."
The familiar arrogance slowly returned.
After all... One correct answer did not make sobody superior.
And Sage Veenadhara remained one of the greatest masters of riddles alive.
At least that was what he told himself.
Devara slowly sat up straighter.
A faint smile appeared beneath his massive moustache.
The setting sun reflected within his green eyes.
For a brief mont, sothing about those eyes felt unusual.
Ancient.
Calm.
Far deeper than they should have been.
Then Devara began speaking.
His voice carried through the village.
Not loud.
Yet every word sohow reached the listeners clearly.
"I am older than the first lie."
"Yet younger than tomorrow."
"I am carried by kings."
"Yet owned by none."
"I am born whenever two strangers et."
"And die when brothers forget."
"The poor spend daily."
"The rich often lose ."
"I am stronger than armies."
"Yet weaker than suspicion."
"I can build a kingdom without touching a stone."
"I can destroy a kingdom without drawing a sword."
"The wise nurture ."
"The foolish demand ."
"The honest earn ."
"The arrogant expect ."
"I have no weight."
"Yet the world rests upon ."
"What am I?"
Silence followed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The villagers exchanged looks.
Shakuni raised an eyebrow.
He could see Devara took the sa style of the sage Veenadhara who asked him a question just a few monts ago.
Even he had not expected sothing this intricate.
anwhile Sage Veenadhara closed his eyes.
The sage imdiately entered deep thought.
His mind raced.
Line by line. Verse by verse. aning after aning.
He dissected every word.
Every layer. Every implication.
Minutes passed....
The villagers remained silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Nobody wanted to interrupt.
Finally... Sage Veenadhara’s eyes opened.
A smile appeared. Then grew wider.
Confidence returned.
The answer had co to him.
Or so he believed.
The sage folded his arms proudly.
"I know it."
Devara nodded his head hearing the confidence.
-Nod!
"Then answer."
Sage Veenadhara smiled hearing Devara’s tone.
"The answer is fa."
Several villagers nodded.
The answer sounded reasonable.
The sage continued confidently.
"Fa is older than lies."
"Kings carry it."
"It can build kingdoms."
"It can destroy kingdoms."
"The rich lose it."
"The poor seek it."
The more he explained, the more convinced he beca.
At the end he smiled triumphantly.
"There."
His confidence had fully returned.
"That is the answer."
Silence followed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The villagers looked toward Devara.
Waiting.
The disguised king listened patiently.
Then smiled. A very small smile.
The kind of smile that imdiately made Shakuni pity the sage.
"...."
Because he recognized it.
Devara slowly shook his head.
"No."
One word. Just one.
The smile vanished from Sage Veenadhara’s face.
"What?"
"No."
The sage blinked in shock hearing his answer was wrong.
"Impossible."
Devara remained calm.
"Your answer is incorrect."
The villagers imdiately began whispering.
Veenadhara frowned thinking deeply.
-Frown!
"No."
Now it was his turn.
"The answer fits."
"It fits several lines."
Devara nodded calmly as he played with a leaf.
"It does."
The sage imdiately brightened.
"Then—"
"But not all of them."
The words struck harder than expected.
Veenadhara froze hearing the explanation.
Devara continued to explain why Sage’s answer is wrong.
"Your answer explains so verses."
"Not every verse."
The sage opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
His mind imdiately returned to the riddle.
Re-examining. Recalculating.
Searching.
The confidence from monts ago began fading.
Because deep down... He already knew.
The rchant was right.
There were still lines he had forced to fit.
Several verses remained imperfect.
The answer wasn’t complete.
And Veenadhara understood sothing terrifying.
The rchant had intentionally created a riddle where partial understanding wasn’t enough.
The sage slowly looked at Devara.
For the first ti since they t... He wasn’t seeing a rchant.
He was seeing a worthy opponent.
And for the first ti in many years... The great Sage Veenadhara Kashyap felt sothing unfamiliar.
Doubt.
anwhile Devara calmly sat beneath the banyan tree.
Patiently waiting.
As though he had all the ti in the world.
And sohow...
That calmness disturbed the sage far more than being told he was wrong.
The silence beneath the banyan tree stretched longer and longer.
Sage Veenadhara sat with his eyes closed.
His mind raced through countless possibilities.
The villagers watched from every hidden corner of Mallikavana.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
They were witnessing sothing they had never seen before.
The great Veenadhara Kashyap struggling.
Actually struggling.
Finally the sage opened his eyes.
His confidence had diminished slightly, but it was still there.
"I know."
He pointed toward Devara.
"The answer is fa."
Devara smiled.
Then calmly shook his head.
"No."
The sage frowned.
Imdiately he began thinking again.
A few monts later another answer ca.
"Wisdom."
Devara shook his head.
"No."
Veenadhara’s eyebrows furrowed.
"Knowledge."
"No."
"Honor."
"No."
"Legacy."
"No."
"Power."
"No."
"Influence."
"No."
The answer ca every ti.
The sa calm response.
The sa gentle shake of the head.
The sa composed expression.
As if Devara wasn’t even remotely troubled.
Minutes turned into nearly an hour.
The villagers beca increasingly fascinated.
Every answer Veenadhara gave seed reasonable.
Yet sohow none of them were correct.
The sage’s breathing gradually beca heavier.
Not from physical exhaustion.
ntal exhaustion.
His mind was working harder than it had in years.
"Virtue!"
"No."
"Truth!"
"No."
"Destiny!"
"No."
"Glory!"
"No."
The sage stood up.
Then sat down again. Then stood up again.
"...."
His hands gripped his beard.
At one point he started pacing circles around the banyan tree.
The villagers had never seen him like this.
Usually others were the ones struggling.
Others were the ones sweating.
Others were the ones desperately searching for answers.
Today the roles had been reversed.
Shakuni anwhile sat comfortably against the tree.
Enjoying every second of it.
Eventually Veenadhara stopped pacing.
His face showed genuine frustration.
Not arrogance. Not superiority.
Frustration.
The kind born from not understanding sothing.
For the first ti in many years, he felt what his challengers had felt.
The realization only made him more irritated.
Finally he stopped. Turned toward Devara.
And spoke.
"Enough."
Devara raised an eyebrow.
The sage pointed at him.
"What is the answer?"
The villagers imdiately beca attentive.
They wanted to know too.
Sage Veenadhara folded his arms.
His pride clearly didn’t like asking.
Yet curiosity had won.
"What is it?"
Devara looked at him for several monts.
Then smiled.
"The answer..."
He paused deliberately.
"...is trust."
The village beca silent.
Complete silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The word echoed in everyone’s minds.
Trust.
Sage Veenadhara frowned. Then his eyes widened slightly.
Devara continued to explain.
"Listen carefully."
The sage remained silent.
The villagers listened.
Even the evening breeze seed quieter.
Devara began explaining.
"’I am older than the first lie, yet younger than tomorrow.’"
He smiled.
"Trust existed before the first lie was spoken."
"But tomorrow’s trust has not yet been created."
The sage’s eyes narrowed.
Devara continued.
"’I am carried by kings, yet owned by none.’"
"No king owns trust."
"No ruler owns trust."
"They can only carry the trust others place in them."
Several villagers slowly nodded.
The explanation fit.
Perfectly.
"’I am born whenever two strangers et and die when brothers forget.’"
Devara looked at the sage.
"Trust begins when strangers choose to believe one another."
"And dies when even family mbers stop believing each other."
Sage Veenadhara remained silent.
"...."
His mind had already begun retracing the riddle.
The answer fit.
Again. And again. And again.
Trying to find any mistake. In the riddle answer.
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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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