Chapter 2, This Curse is Truly Amazing
Vishnu chuckled, quietly watching Brahma's performance.
"Brahma, do you remember when you lied with the pandanus?"
"What? Am I, the creator god, not allowed to make mistakes that even gods make?"
"Lying isn't important; what's important is that you lied to Shiva's face. He wields the forbidden power of destruction, surely to punish you, ensuring you can never receive offerings again."
Vishnu and Brahma's conversation reached Daksha's ears.
Without a second thought, he immediately replaced Brahma's statue with Vishnu's and began to worship him. Sure enough, the storm and lightning subsided instantly.
Brahma, his face darkening, exclaimed, "Why do I feel like this son isn't mine, but rather yours?"
"That's called avoiding harm and seeking benefit. Don't falsely accuse a good god! How could he possibly be my son?"
"I know! Did you secretly use my hand to touch your lingam while I was sleeping?"
"Your old man's hand is more useful than my own? That's ridiculous!"
Vishnu and Brahma started arguing again in the heavens.
Brahma grew increasingly agitated, and his divine power dissipated more and more. As the creator god, every bit of his dissipated divine power gave birth to a descendant god.
Daksha, residing on Earth, inherited his father Brahma's characteristics after assuming the throne, and had a large number of descendants.
He remembered the mission of the Triad, guiding the sages and ascetics in the palace in sacrifices and labor, and his territory and people expanded more and more.
Just when everything was thriving, an accident occurred.
During a ritual, his sons, in droves, requested to leave the palace and embark on a journey of asceticism.
Daksha, unable to maintain his imperial composure any longer, angrily demanded, "Who instigated my sons to go on this ascetic journey? Show yourself!"
"If it were me, how would you respond?"
From the crowd emerged a figure carrying a Vedana lyre. Daksha recognized him immediately: the sage Narada.
He was also one of Brahma's heart-born sons, equal in rank to Daksha.
However, despite their brotherly relationship, their approaches to life were diametrically opposed.
Daksha diligently governed the mortal realm and hoped his sons would inherit his responsibility of maintaining it.
But the sage Narada cherished freedom and spent his days idly. He either sang during people's devout praises or played his lyre and danced during sacrifices. This earned Naratha a nickname from the immortals and cultivators behind his back: the troublemaker immortal.
Daksha had long disliked him, but had kept quiet out of consideration for their brotherly relationship.
However, after finally fathering dozens of sons, this fellow had managed to persuade them all to engage in ascetic practices. This was intolerable!
"Naratha, I curse you! You will be forever homeless and will be required to constantly praise the title of Narayana."
Upon hearing this, all the immortals and cultivators present gasped in shock.
"The curse uttered by the Lord of Life is truly terrifying!"
"The troublemaker immortal is in trouble now."
"Great! This guy is finally going to be banished from the palace. Last time I was cultivating, he was playing his zither haphazardly, disturbing my concentration."
Being forever homeless meant that Naratha would be forced to wander until his death. This would be the most terrifying curse for any normal deity; the mental torment is sometimes more painful than physical torture.
However, Narada's face showed no sorrow, only a smile: "Thank you, brother, your curse is truly wonderful! Want to add a couple more?"
Narayana was an honorific title of Vishnu, and although the sage Narada was unrestrained, he held Narayana in high esteem.
Being able to constantly recite Narayana's title was a blessing for this devout believer.
As for being homeless, even Daksha's pampered sons didn't care, let alone Narada, a street urchin.
Daksha was furious with Narada. He severed ties with his sons and told Narada to take them away.
At this moment, Daksha's guards rushed into the palace, kneeling before him and reporting, "Lord Daksha, the group of inhabitants you once drove away haven't left the territory. What should we do?"
"Don't you know how to use force? Do I have to teach you how to kill? I am the Lord of all beings appointed by the Three-Symbol God. To disobey me is to blaspheme the Three-Symbol God. Kill all these blasphemers!" Enraged, Daksha immediately issued the order.
Among the onlookers, countless immortals and cultivators slowly shook their heads at Daksha's bloodthirsty actions, only Anghira nodded secretly.
"Brother, after all these years, you've finally started to get arrogant. It seems my 'Old Man' tactic is about to succeed."
The guards, having received their orders, picked up spears and blades and began slaughtering the inhabitants who had disobeyed Daksha's command.
The inhabitants fled in panic, until they reached a wasteland. There were no trees for cover, only desolation and countless sand and stones.
A muscular man, dressed in a tiger-skin skirt and with his hair coiled in a bun, sat atop a giant rock, stroking a trident in his hand.
Seeing the man's weapon, they scrambled to his side, begging for protection.
Shiva was devastated by these refugees. He'd wandered to this desolate wilderness, and yet they'd found him.
And to make matters worse, they were followed by a large group of soldiers. Weren't they just using him as a shield?
"My lord, please save us! Daksha's soldiers are hunting us!" the refugees knelt, prostrating themselves in pleading.
Shiva frowned, remaining silent.
Save them? How?
He'd transmigrated here and hadn't even figured out his skills yet. All he knew of was his ultimate technique, Shiva's Dance.
Did they expect him, Shiva, to dance for them?
"If I eliminate you first, you won't be eliminated by anyone else."
Shiva pondered for a moment, then began to bluff: "God helps those who help themselves. Your strength is actually no weaker than theirs!"
Shiva's voice was powerful, echoing across the wilderness, even reaching the Daksha soldiers.
The head guard scoffed: "Don't think you're so great just because you have a harpoon! You'd better not meddle! Otherwise, you'll be considered a rebel and executed too!"
"Rebellion? Ayushu?" Shiva laughed.
Although he hadn't even mastered his skills yet, and his street dance moves couldn't be used often, this word "rebellion" really made him lose his composure.
The entire world is maintained by the Triads to maintain balance; was he, Shiva, going to rebel against himself?
Shiva handed a stone to the refugees, gesturing for them to pick it up and throw it at the soldiers.
The refugees understood immediately, and stones rained down on the soldiers like weapons.
Although they wielded blades and spears, their range was pitifully short compared to a human catapult.
Furthermore, the soldiers lacked even decent armor, and were quickly overwhelmed, scattered, and fled.
The refugees cheered, surrounding Shiva and prostrating themselves in gratitude.
To be honest, Shiva had no desire to accept their prostrations.
Throwing stones—even monkeys can do that, let alone humans. What are Indians' skulls made of? Are their brains filled with Masala? They can't even imagine that.
Shiva was afraid that their prostrations would infect him with their intelligence.
"Alas, that cruel Daksha king! Just because we don't believe in gods, he orders our expulsion."
"Yes, I fled without even clothes or food."
"It seems we can't return to the Daksha's territory. We can only establish a home in more distant places."
The refugees discussed amongst themselves, piquing Shiva's interest.
India is clearly the country with the strongest religious atmosphere, bar none. A billion people in India are religious, and this is even after entering the modern technological society.
Yet, in this mythical age, are there still Indians who don't believe in gods?