The leaves of the ancient Banyan tree swayed gently, touched by a breeze that carried the faintest echoes of heavenly chants and melodies. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, filled with twinkling stars and galaxies that sparkled like jewels against the celestial backdrop. Their light seemed to dance and shimmer, as if paying homage to the meditative peace below.

Seated under the broad canopy of the Banyan, Bharat radiated a serene glow. His eyes were closed, yet a subtle smile graced his lips, a whisper of joy that hinted at his deep connection with the divine. A soft aura surrounded him, a luminous energy that spoke of both the power within him and the profound peace he had cultivated. Lost in meditation, he appeared almost timeless, an eternal spirit untouched by earthly concerns.

Bharat's connection with the universe was uninterrupted until a soft sound drifted toward him-the delicate chime of anklets, approaching softly like a breeze. The sound grew closer, graceful yet full of life, and Bharat's lips curled into a warm smile as he sensed her presence even before he opened his eyes. He slowly looked up and there stood his wife, Mandavi, approaching with measured steps, carrying a small basket of freshly gathered flowers in her hands. Flowers of all colors and shapes filled the basket, each petal glowing faintly with the radiance of paradise, a fitting tribute to the gods.

Mandavi's beauty had a quiet, ethereal grace. The moonlight played on her soft, radiant face, illuminating her gentle features. Her gaze held a boundless love and devotion as she looked at Bharat, a love as timeless as the heavens they inhabited. Her long, dark hair fell over her shoulder, and the flowers in her basket seemed to pale beside her natural elegance. She wore a delicate sari of silken threads that shimmered like starlight, her every movement carrying an effortless grace that spoke of both the reverence in her heart and the strength of her spirit.

Bharat rose from his seated position, his eyes softening as he watched her. Mandavi offered him a smile, her eyes reflecting the warmth and devotion she felt. Together, in a silent understanding, they walked toward the sacred altar under the Banyan tree where an idol of Lord Vishnu awaited them. The statue stood tall, carved with such detail that it almost seemed alive, every curve and contour bearing the divine essence.

With care, they arranged the flowers around the idol, adorning it with fragrant blooms in shades of white, yellow, and pink. They clasped their hands in prayer, bowing their heads in reverence as they began a short but meaningful ritual. Mandavi's voice was soft as she chanted a mantra, her words carrying a quiet power, as if they wove an invisible tapestry of blessings and devotion. Bharat joined her, his voice deep and steady, and together, they created a symphony of devotion, their voices mingling with the rustling of the Banyan leaves and the distant twinkle of the stars.

As they completed the prayer, they offered a small flame, a humble light against the vast backdrop of heaven's grandeur. The light flickered and danced, casting shadows that seemed to deepen the sense of tranquility around them. They sat back, the ritual now complete, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and connection with the divine.

After a brief, comfortable silence, Mandavi turned to Bharat, her eyes filled with both wonder and contemplation.

Mandavi :- It feels strange.

She began softly

Mandavi :- We've only been here a month nearly, yet centuries have passed on Earth. Generations of our family have come and gone, lives lived and stories woven into time.

Her voice carried a trace of melancholy as she considered the impermanence of mortal life, yet also a quiet acceptance. Bharat nodded, understanding her thoughts completely.

Bharat :- Yes, and yet there is still a long time to go before we are reborn, as we requested

He replied, his gaze distant as he contemplated the cycles of life on Earth. His voice held a steady calm, as though he too had accepted the span of their journey through the heavens.

Mandavi leaned into him, resting her head gently on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, as though savoring the closeness, a moment of intimacy that, in its simplicity, felt as profound as their devotions.

Mandavi :- I look forward to that day. To meeting you again... as husband and wife, but also as strangers, carrying no memory of this life.

She murmured, a soft smile crossing her lips. Bharat's eyes warmed at her words, and he lifted his hand to gently tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

Bharat :- And how would you want us to meet ?

He asked, his tone light with a hint of playful curiosity. Mandavi's eyes sparkled as she considered the question, delighting in the thought.

Mandavi :- Perhaps....

She began, her voice filled with imagination.

Mandavi :- I would be held captive, and you would come to my rescue, gallant and fearless.

Her tone was both dreamy and mischievous, as though she could see the scene playing out in her mind. Bharat chuckled softly, but she was already continuing, her mind dancing between stories.

Mandavi :- Or maybe....

She said, her expression growing more animated.

Mandavi :- I would be a princess, and you would win me in a swayamvar-defeating all others with your strength and valor.

She laughed lightly, a sound as sweet as the chiming of her anklets, as if even the mere thought of such stories brought her joy.

Mandavi :- Or...

She added with a glimmer of warmth in her eyes.

Mandavi :- I could just be a woman in distress, and you, my savior, would appear when I need you most.

Her voice softened, as though lost in a vision of love that transcended time and lifetimes. She looked up at him, her expression tender.

Mandavi :- Each time, we'd find one another.

She said, the certainty in her voice filling him with a deep, quiet joy. Bharat gazed at her, moved by her words and her boundless imagination. He placed his hand gently over hers, his own heart swelling with gratitude and love for the woman who had stood by him through the eons.

Bharat :- No matter the story. I would find you, Mandavi, in any life. That is one thing I am certain of.

He replied softly. They sat together, gazing out into the celestial expanse, watching the events unfolding on Earth far below. Stars twinkled in the distance, silent witnesses to their quiet promise. In that moment, time felt irrelevant, a mere ripple on the vast sea of eternity that stretched before them. The two of them, bound together by love that spanned lifetimes, waited with patience and joy, knowing that the cycles of life would once again bring them together.

And in that stillness, under the ancient Banyan tree, they remained, their hearts united in peace, bound not only to each other but to the sacred rhythm of the universe.



In the golden gardens of heaven, where the celestial blooms shimmered in hues unknown to mortals, Rahoo, the cunning minister of the asurs, moved with a quiet confidence. His form was disguised, cloaked in the aura of a god, allowing him to slip undetected among the divine beings that filled Indra's court. Rahoo's power of illusion, bolstered by his forbidden consumption of nectar, the potion of immortality, had grown formidable; it wove a veil that rendered him indistinguishable from the devas themselves. He reveled in his freedom, grinning to himself as he slipped past the oblivious heaven guards, his heart pounding with a thrill that only his forbidden presence here could give him.

In Indra's court, apsaras performed in dazzling ensembles. Their dance was otherworldly, each movement a poem of elegance and seduction. Their faces held expressions that seemed crafted by the gods themselves, their every glance and gesture made to captivate even the most disciplined heart. As Rahoo watched them, his pulse quickened, his imagination overtaken by fantasies of desire. His mind wandered, eyes hungrily taking in their allure. But it wasn't enough. He wanted more than just their presence in the distance-he wanted one of them, wanted to hold her, possess her. The more he watched, the more his desire grew, until it was a fire that consumed him.

Then, as he roamed the outskirts of Indra's gardens, he saw her: a woman with a beauty that far surpassed that of the apsaras. She was picking flowers, moving through the blooms with a delicate grace that made even the divine surroundings pale. Her face, radiant and serene, had an otherworldly charm, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. Rahoo felt his heart twist as he watched her; she seemed timeless, untouched by the worries of the world, wrapped in a purity that both enthralled and enraged him.

Who is she? he wondered, his eyes narrowing as he followed her discreetly, unable to tear his gaze away. This was no mere apsara; her beauty was deeper, her aura brighter. She felt real, more tantalizingly mortal. His breath quickened, desire now transforming into an all-consuming obsession. He wanted this woman like he had never wanted anyone before, a lust that clawed its way through his mind, his thoughts clouded with need.

As he lurked, he overheard whispers from a passing god, and the truth hit him with the force of a thunderbolt. This enchanting woman was Mandavi, the wife of Bharat, the mortal prince who had been blessed with the presence of the gods. Bharat, the dutiful and devoted, the one who was so revered even in the divine realms. The knowledge stirred something darker in Rahoo; his need became a raw, gnawing hunger. To have her, Bharat's wife, was no longer just a fantasy-it was a challenge to the order of heaven itself.

Days passed, but Rahoo's desire did not wane. He watched her from afar, feeding his obsession, until it grew unbearable. He began to plot, envisioning ways to make Mandavi his. Eventually, his longing reached a fever pitch, and he realized he could wait no longer. Regardless of the consequences, Mandavi would be his. She *should* be his, he thought, as his obsession tipped into madness.

One day, he found Bharat deep in meditation beneath the ancient Banyan tree. His aura glowed in quiet strength, his body still as he communed with the divine. Rahoo approached, and stood in Bharat's line of sight, waiting for some reaction. But Bharat's calm did not waver; he remained seated, his concentration unwavering, as though Rahoo were nothing but air.

Infuriated by this lack of acknowledgment, Rahoo stepped closer, his voice dripping with mockery.

Rahoo :- Bharat! Do you sit here, so pious and motionless, while heaven moves around you? Or is it that you are simply incapable of rising, incapable of defending what's yours?

He sneered. Bharat's stillness remained unbroken, his eyes closed, his breathing steady as if he hadn't even heard Rahoo's taunts. The sight only stoked Rahoo's anger. He wanted Bharat to react, to draw his weapon, to fight.

Rahoo :- They call you a great prince, a warrior of dharma. Yet you sit idle, untouched by the fire of pride that drives real men. Tell me, Bharat, what power do you truly hold ?

Rahoo continued, circling him. Still, Bharat did not respond, the calm on his face unshaken by Rahoo's provocations.

Rahoo's patience frayed. He hissed.

Rahoo :- Do you not care that others desire what is yours? That others covet the very woman you call your wife ?

He leaned closer, his voice a low snarl.

Rahoo :- Or perhaps you are impotent-incapable of rising to defend your own honor.

Finally, the name of Mandavi left Rahoo's lips, dripping with malice.

Rahoo :- Your precious Mandavi.

He sneered, as though tasting the bitterness of the words.

Rahoo :- She deserves someone with real strength, real passion. Someone who wouldn't sit like a stone as she's taken from his side. Perhaps she belongs to someone stronger.

He let out a derisive laugh, goading him. At that, a shadow passed over Bharat's face. He opened his eyes, and his gaze, though calm, held a depth of unspoken power. He rose slowly, his movements deliberate, a presence far greater than his mortal form seemed to imply. Rahoo felt an unsettling chill as Bharat's calm eyes met his. There was no anger, no fury-only an intensity that cut through Rahoo's illusion of superiority.

Bharat :- Strength. Is not shown through mindless anger or the shallow pride of words. Strength is in control, in purpose.

He began, his voice steady as the earth itself, his gaze fixed on Rahoo with a quiet, undeniable command.

Bharat :- You seek to provoke me, to pull me down to the depths of your own desires. But I have walked the path of dharma, and I do not waver.

Rahoo's face twisted, rage flashing in his eyes. He lunged forward, determined to strike at Bharat, to draw him into a fight. But Bharat merely stepped aside, his movements graceful, each step an effortless avoidance of Rahoo's aggression. Rahoo's strikes met only air, his fury growing as Bharat continued to elude him with quiet composure. With a final sneer, Rahoo attempted to press again.

Rahoo :- Do you think this is strength, Bharat ? Your quiet ? Your calm ? You are weak!

Bharat looked at him, unfazed, his eyes filled with a patience that spoke of lifetimes of wisdom.

Bharat :- True strength... is not tested in moments of calm but in the face of temptation and provocation. My heart is my own, my devotion is unshakeable.

His voice dropped to a whisper that carried a force Rahoo had not expected.

Bharat :- And my love for Mandavi is eternal.

In that moment, Rahoo felt a piercing shame, as though his very soul were exposed beneath Bharat's gaze.

Bharat :- You want to test me in a fight, so be it Rahoo, go on attack me....

No more than a moment had passed since the words had left his lips, Rahoo lunged foreward at him. The duel had begun with an air of deadly silence beneath the ancient Banyan tree, the celestial garden charged with the anticipation of a long-awaited reckoning. Bharat faced Rahoo with an unbreakable calm, his eyes steady and his stance grounded, as if the earth itself stood with him. Rahoo, on the other hand, was a seething mass of resentment and rage, his gaze narrowed as he circled Bharat, each movement filled with the malice of his wounded pride.

With a snarl, Rahoo lunged first, drawing his weapon in a flash. He swung with the weight of his fury, his strikes wild yet brutal, meant to intimidate and overpower. But Bharat was unmoved; his every step and counter was precise, wasting neither energy nor breath. He met each of Rahoo's attacks with quiet control, deflecting with swift, effortless movements that seemed like a dance woven from his meditative calm.

As the battle continued, Bharat remained unshaken, showing none of the desperation that marked Rahoo's every swing. His defense turned to offense, a blur of graceful, calculated strikes that slipped past Rahoo's guard, each blow landing with a precision that left the asur minister breathless and staggering. Bharat's mastery was evident, a silent testament to his years of devotion and training-a strength rooted in restraint and purpose, unlike the frenzy that drove Rahoo.

Seeing his attacks fall short, Rahoo's face twisted with frustration. He tried every taunt, every tactic to distract Bharat, hoping to break his focus. But Bharat's expression remained as calm as the still waters, each strike like a prayer offered with respect to the heavens. Finally, in one deft motion, Bharat disarmed Rahoo, his weapon clattering to the ground as Bharat's sword tip pressed gently but firmly against his chest.

Rahoo's face flushed with humiliation. Defeated and exposed, he stumbled back, gasping, and before he could gather his shattered pride, he turned and fled, leaving only the bitter echo of his defeat lingering in the air. As he fled, he vowed vengeance, the rage in his heart turning black as he plotted his return.



Back in the asur kingdom, Rahoo approached the dark throne of the asur king, his humiliation masked by a carefully crafted expression of cunning. Bowing low, he addressed the king, his words dipped in venom and desperation.

Rahoo :- My king. I have faced a disgrace at the hands of Bharat, a mere mortal who has humiliated me. But with your support and the might of our army, I can return this insult a hundredfold. In return, I offer you knowledge-a map of heaven itself, every hidden path, every secret stronghold. With this, you could have dominion over the celestial realms.

The asur king's eyes gleamed with interest, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips. He had long sought a way to infiltrate heaven, to break its defenses and shake the realm of gods from within. After a moment's silence, he nodded, sealing the bargain. With this alliance, Rahoo left, his heart seething with plans for vengeance and conquest.



Days later, when Bharat left for his penance, Rahoo put his next plan into action. He used his powers to assume Bharat's form, capturing every detail with flawless precision, from the calm intensity in his eyes to the gentleness of his expression. It was a perfect disguise, one that would fool even the most discerning eye.

He entered Bharat's abode, finding Mandavi alone in the quiet of their celestial home. She looked up as he entered, her face lighting with the familiar warmth and love she always had for her husband.

Mandavi :- Arya, I didn't expect you back so soon.

She said, her voice soft with surprise and joy. Rahoo, in his disguise, nodded, forcing himself to imitate Bharat's calm demeanor.

Rahoo :- My love, I realized I had forgotten something important.

He replied, his voice a careful mimic of Bharat's own. Mandavi smiled, turning her attention back to her tasks, while Rahoo's gaze lingered on her, filled with his own dark desire. He spoke in gentle tones, gradually drawing closer to her, using subtle magic to weaken her mind, to cloud her perception. He moved slowly, careful not to raise suspicion, offering sweet words and touches meant to disarm her, inching ever closer to his goal. But each step toward Mandavi's trust was an exercise in patience, the darkness of his intent hidden under Bharat's loving visage.

As the hours wore on, Rahoo's disguise began to slip under the strain of his desire. The moment he had longed for, however, was shattered by the sudden return of Bharat, who entered quietly to retrieve his Rudraksh mala, a part of his meditation ritual that he had left behind.

The scene that greeted Bharat was a surreal nightmare: his wife, Mandavi, under the spell of a man who looked exactly like himself, Rahoo's hand lingering where it never should have. In that instant, a rare storm brewed in Bharat's usually calm heart. Silently, he took a step forward, lifting his kamandal, his vessel of holy water. With a steady hand, he splashed the water over the imposter, the power of purity shattering the illusion Rahoo had wrapped around himself.

As the droplets touched him, Rahoo's disguise dissolved, his true form breaking free of the illusion like shattered glass. Mandavi gasped, stepping back in horror as the vile deception was revealed before her.

Bharat :- Rahoo!

His voice was filled with a rare edge of fury. His stance was resolute, his gaze piercing with righteous anger as he confronted the asur who had dared defile the sanctity of his home and his love.

Bharat :- You dare come into my abode, in my form, to deceive my wife ? You wanted to test my patience, you have been successfull, now you will face my wrath.

Rahoo, for once, could not hide his fear. But he quickly steeled himself, drawing on the remnants of his pride.

Rahoo :- You humiliated me once, Bharat. But you will not have that chance again!

He sneered, although his voice wavered. With that, he lunged forward, desperate to gain an upper hand. But Bharat was prepared; his calm from the previous duel had turned into a fierce resolve. His movements were as swift as divine lightning, his strikes unwavering and precise. This was no longer a mere spar-it was a battle to protect the honor of his love and his home.

Blow after blow, Bharat's strength overpowered Rahoo. Each swing of his weapon met Rahoo's defenses with shattering force, his control and calm guiding his every move. Rahoo fought back with all his might, his magic flaring as he struggled to hold his ground. But Bharat's spirit was indomitable, his heart aflame with the need to vanquish the evil before him.

At last, after a fierce exchange of strikes and magic, Bharat's skill proved too much for Rahoo. The asur, battered and defeated, was once again forced to retreat, stumbling back with a snarl of fury and frustration. He glared at Bharat with hate-filled eyes, but he knew he could not withstand this warrior's wrath.

Rahoo :- This isn't over.

He hissed, retreating to the shadows as he limped away.

Rahoo :- You will pay for this, Bharat. I will return, and I will bring the might of the asur army with me. Heaven will fall, and you will be crushed beneath the force of our vengeance.

With that, he vanished, fleeing back to the asur king, where he would lick his wounds and prepare for a war that now seemed inevitable.

Bharat's heart burned with righteous fury as he tracked Rahoo's trail, his resolve unbreakable, his spirit aflame. The deception, the violation of his sacred home, and the insult to his wife Mandavi-all of it weighed heavily on his heart. He could feel a storm brewing within him, a tempest that refused to be calmed until justice was served.

Before him stretched the dark, endless plains of the asur realm, and in the distance, he saw them: a vast army of asurs, a sea of darkness that seemed to spread endlessly across the horizon. Their eyes gleamed red in the dim light, their armor blackened, their expressions twisted with malice. In their midst stood Rahoo, who smirked with the confidence of a man backed by an unyielding force.

Undeterred, Bharat took a deep breath and charged forward, his movements fluid, each step echoing with the determination of a thousand lifetimes. The first wave of asur soldiers came at him like a torrent, their weapons raised high, but Bharat's focus was unwavering. He met their attack with the precision of a seasoned warrior, his sword flashing in blinding arcs. His strikes were powerful yet controlled, each blow a manifestation of his righteous rage.

With a single swing, he sent a dozen asurs crashing to the ground. Another wave followed, but Bharat was like a storm incarnate, his movements growing faster, his power increasing with each moment. His strikes came like bolts of divine lightning, tearing through the ranks of asurs, who recoiled in terror as he felled them one by one.

Yet the asurs continued to press forward, hundreds upon hundreds charging at him from all directions. Bharat fought on with relentless determination, his rage fueling him, his aura glowing brighter with each defeated foe. His movements were like a dance of destruction, his body an unstoppable force as he carved his way through the endless waves of darkness. The ground trembled beneath the weight of their clash, and the heavens themselves seemed to hold their breath as Bharat single-handedly turned the tide of the battle.

The other asurs began to falter, their confidence shaken as they witnessed the sheer power of Bharat's wrath. His attacks were no longer simply defensive-they had become a wave of righteous vengeance, his strikes quick, merciless, and unstoppable. The more he fought, the stronger he seemed to become, until it was as though he had transformed into an embodiment of the divine itself, a force sent to cleanse the land of evil.

Finally, the asur soldiers began to retreat, their ranks broken, their spirits crushed by the relentless assault. Many fled in terror, their confidence shattered, and the once-imposing army of asurs thinned and scattered, unable to withstand Bharat's might.

Only Rahoo remained, his face twisted with fury and fear as he faced Bharat. Yet even now, in his wounded pride, he clung to his arrogance, sneering at Bharat as though the defeat of his soldiers meant nothing. He stood tall, his gaze defiant, his voice laced with mockery.

Rahoo :-Is this all you have? You may have defeated my soldiers, Bharat, but I am immortal! You cannot destroy me, no matter how powerful you believe yourself to be.

H taunted, raising his weapon. But before Bharat could strike, a brilliant light bathed the battlefield. The heavens parted, and descending from the skies was Lord Vishnu himself, his presence radiating an aura of calm and divine wisdom. His gaze was gentle yet firm, his expression one of compassion tempered by authority.

Lord Vishnu :- Enough!

His voice resonated through the air, filling every heart with an indescribable peace.

Lord Vishnu :- Lay down your weapons, both of you. This war has brought enough discord to the heavens.

Bharat, recognizing the voice of his beloved deity, immediately fell to his knees, bowing deeply. His rage dissipated in the divine presence of Vishnu, and he placed his weapon down in reverence, his heart humbled.

Bharat :- Prabhu. I seek only justice for the insult brought upon my wife and our home.

He whispered. Lord extended a hand, and his voice was gentle yet resolute.

Lord Vishnu :- I know, Bharat, and your devotion is known to me. You have fought bravely, but now is the time to let go of your wrath.

However, Rahoo stood his ground, unrepentant, his expression hard and prideful.

Rahoo :- I bow to no one, not even the gods. I am immortal. Your words mean nothing to me.

He sneered, crossing his arms defiantly. Vishnu regarded Rahoo with a look of disappointment.

Lord Vishnu :- Arrogance clouds the wisdom even of the immortals. And for your defiance and the suffering you have caused, I shall place a curse upon you.

He said softly. A quiet, heavy silence fell over the battlefield as Vishnu raised his hand.

Lord Vishnu :- You shall be stripped of your immortality, Rahoo. You will be born as a mortal in the human realm, forced to suffer and learn humility. Only when you have earned forgiveness will you find liberation.

Rahoo's defiance turned to horror as he realized the gravity of his punishment. He began to shout in protest, but his voice faded as he felt the curse take hold, binding him to his fate.

Bharat rose slowly, the weight of the battle and the events settling over him. Yet even as Vishnu restored peace, a shadow of sorrow lingered in his heart, a pain he knew could not be easily healed. He turned to his beloved Mandavi, who had watched everything in silence, her face stricken with guilt.

Bharat :- Mandavi...

He whispered, reaching out to her, but she stepped back, her gaze cast downward.

Mandavi :- Arya.

She murmured, her voice filled with quiet anguish.

Mandavi :- I must leave. I allowed Rahoo to deceive me, to harm the sanctity of our home. I have failed you.

Bharat took her hand gently, his gaze soft with understanding.

Bharat :- Mandavi, you are not at fault. Rahoo's magic clouded your mind. You cannot hold yourself responsible for his deception.

But she shook her head, a resolve hardening in her gaze.

Mandavi :- My heart knows, Arya. I must atone for my part. I must find peace within myself. I will isolate myself and repent. Perhaps one day, I shall return.

Bharat's heart twisted, but he knew he could not force her to stay.

Bharat :- If that is what you believe, then I will respect your choice. But know that whenever you are ready to return, I will be here, waiting for you.

His words echoed across the stillness, reverberating in the air six times, each repetition lingering as if the very heavens wished to carry his promise to eternity. Mandavi paused, a faint smile touching her lips, and she turned one last time to glance at him. Her gaze held a tenderness that no words could capture.

Mandavi :- I will always be with you, Arya.

She whispered, her voice as gentle as a prayer, before stepping through the portal. Bharat stood alone, watching as the portal closed. The air around him grew still, yet his heart was filled with the quiet strength of his love and his promise. He knew that his journey was far from over, but with Mandavi's words echoing in his soul, he vowed to carry her memory with him, a silent companion through the eons, until the day she returned.



In the endless expanse of heaven, Bharat sat alone beneath the sacred Banyan tree, its ancient branches swaying gently above him. Despite the reverence he had earned from the gods for his unmatched valor and the respect he commanded across the celestial realm, a quiet ache remained within him. His heart, still bound to Mandavi, longed for the day they would meet again, untouched by the memories of betrayal and sorrow.

Time in heaven passed differently, yet for Bharat, each moment was filled with devotion and penance, his soul resolute in its patience. He chanted in silence, hoping that in some distant life, he and Mandavi would be reborn, drawn together as strangers, free from the shadows of their past. Though the accolades of his heavenly deeds surrounded him, Bharat's gaze was always turned inward, focused on the hope of reincarnation. He knew that someday, in another realm and time, destiny would bring them together again, where love would blossom anew, untouched by darkness.

And so, he waited, a solitary figure in paradise, bound to his eternal promise, trusting in the infinite cycle of life to reunite him with his beloved.



Did you like the chapter ?

A complete chapter after a long time.

So this was the previous story of Karn and the reason of his natural hatred and enmity with Amrit.

Did you read the highlighted word, that is the reason for his six wives, but how would he know, can you guess.

What do you think would be Karn's reaction to all this ?

Do comment if you have any suggestions.

Will see you in the next chapter, untill then, take care and bye.