Lord Arya sat on a low, wooden stool, behind his writing desk, in front of an open window facing the heaven. Heaven never went dark, even at night. The bright divine lights always glowed, enough to give headaches. Sometimes, he would be so deeply absorbed in his scriptures, he would lose track of time, finding himself delirious at the end. After the last episode, he acquired a sundial and placed it at the corner of his writing desk. Thenceforth, he checked the dial from time to time whenever he sat down for his scholarly routine.

At present, Arya glanced at the dial frequently, following every shift in its shadow. His attention was divided between the half-written document in front of him and the gilded silver doors to his study chamber, embossed in colorless floral patterns. He had surrounded himself in white; the floor, the walls, the roof, all painted in pure white. Even the colorful tapestries of the rest of heaven had turned into saintly white in this room. There was a certain tranquility in the color, a certain iciness, which gave him a sense of detachment from the affairs of his ever chaotic kingdom of heaven. Arya’s sharp eyes darted once more to the sun-dial and then to the open doors. He heard the faint sounds of footsteps languidly approaching his study chamber, and his wandering gaze returned to the half-finished document on his desk.

“Narayan, Narayan!” A warm sing-song voice broke the cold silence of the room.

“Great Sage Mahathi.” The god king rose from his desk and walked up to the singing sage. “Welcome back to the heaven. What news do you bring?” He asked the evergreen sage, gesturing him to take a seat on the wooden divan.

“By Narayan’s grace, only happy tidings, my King.” The sage carefully set his plucked stringed instrument, the veena, to the side. He, then, turned his gleeful eyes to the god king. “The earth’s fertility continues to be boundless, the humans continue to be sinful, and the reputation of the gods continues to grow, on account of all the evil they have been purging.”

“What you call reputation, Sage Mahathi, is our duty to the humans.”

“Narayan, Narayan.” The sage sang those two words again with devotion as he joined his palms together. He brought them to his forehead and closed his eyes in a silent prayer to the Great God Vishnu.

“Every soul deserves a new start, Mahathi, free of the evil that resides in them. To purge them of malice and set them on a new path is the only way we can truly cleanse the evil from earth.”

“Narayan, Narayan.” This time, there was slight doubt hanging in the sing-song voice. “But Lord Arya, if earth is cleansed of all evil, what purpose would the gods have?”

Arya regarded Sage Mahathi for few moments. “The Gods will always find a purpose, Sage Mahathi.”

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“Narayan, Narayan.” The sage expressed his agreement with his oft-repeated phrase as he made another praying gesture to the Lord above. His clasped hands touched the top of the forked white mark, painted on his forehead, that joined at the bridge of his nose and then ran down to the tip, a Tilaka of the Vishnu devotees. The tan of his face and arms hid his bright skin and spoke of the far lands he had traveled to as the messenger of god. However, the rays of the sun did not tarnish his youthful features, crowned by his long curling lashes and his dark long wavy hair spread over his back.

The god king heaved a quick sigh before stating the purpose of the meeting. “Great Sage Mahathi, how are the people in the Eastern Kingdom of Asaya getting by?”

“They live well, my lord,” Mahathi announced with a slight hesitation, “as well as they could.”

Arya nodded slowly. “Sadly, their lives will get tougher. In a matter of days, the kingdom will face a catastrophe, devastating floods. I have sent two of my subjects to help the people of the Kingdom. But the Kingdom is without a leader. The people, there, have no protector. I want you to carry the message to all the other kingdoms of Asaya that they send their forces to the Eastern Kingdom for rescue efforts as soon as possible.”

“Narayan, Narayan.” The wise Sage gently shook his head in disbelief. “What an inopportune time for the Eastern Kingdom! Cursed with one tragedy after another, since the…”

One stern look from Lord Arya and Sage Mahathi’s words remained stuck in his throat.

“Narayan, Narayan,” he whispered sheepishly, his averted gaze roaming here and there on the floor. “So, I shall travel and carry the lord’s word. Honor shall be mine to serve your cause, Lord Arya.”

“No, Sage Mahathi. It is my privilege to have you in our service and spread the words of divinity.” The god king spoke in a cool, soft manner.

“I will bid my farewell, then, Lord Arya.” The sage started to get up.

“One moment, Sage Mahathi.” The god king strode across the room to his writing desk. He hastily finished his half-written letter and carried it over to the messenger, along with a tall double-curved iron bow encrusted with a hundred blue sapphires.

“Sage Mahathi, this is a letter for the queen of the Western Kingdom of Asaya. Her son will ascend the throne soon. Please offer the Vijaya bow as the Heaven’s blessing and deliver this message safely to her.”

“As your Lord Commands.”

After accepting the present and the letter, the messenger bowed to the god king and made a lazy exit through the silvery doors as his sing-song voice uttered his favorite words one more time.

Arya came back to his desk and picked up his peacock feather quill. He checked the sundial one more time before pulling out an empty palm leaf page and placing it in front of him. He reflected on some verses he was composing that described a king’s duty towards his subjects. A flash far into the clouds, not a second later, caused the heavenly lights to shine even brighter outside his window, followed by a distant rumbling sound that drifted away.

Arya felt a band of dull ache forming around his head.

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As Mahathi walked through the corridors of the heavenly palace, he managed to find a secluded corner and immediately pulled himself into its shadows. Once he set the items he was carrying on the floor, he drew out the letter entrusted to him. Carefully, he attempted to open it but alas! It was one of those messages protected by powerful incantation, marked only for the recipient's eyes.

“Narayan, Narayan,” he sneered in a hushed tone and rolled his eyes.

Sage Mahathi picked up the divine items once more and meandered out of the palace corridor, his disappointment already fading away with his playful sing-song voice echoing off the walls.

“Narayan, Narayan.”

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