Something settled inside Angat. The frantic "this can't be happening" feeling finally quieted down, replaced by a deep calm that felt ancient. Okay, he thought. I'm dead. It wasn't a shocking truth anymore; it was just the way things were now. And with that acceptance, his mind felt clearer than it ever had when he was alive. All the noises the desperate need for a raise, the butterflies around Priya, the heavy weight of his dad's expectations was just gone. It was like a static he hadn't even known was there had been switched off.
And now, with a clear head, the questions came. Not panicked ones, but real, burning curiosities. It felt like a part of him was waking up after a long, long nap.
Narad watched him, and his usual knowing smile softened into something more genuine, almost proud. He could probably see the questions forming in the air between them.
"Go on, Vatsa," Narad said, his voice kind and encouraging. "Let it all out. Ask whatever you want. We've got all the time in the world here. Literally, all the time in all the worlds."
Angat took a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Okay," he began. "Let's start with the big one. How does any of this actually work? I mean, science gives us one story...carbon dating, geology, all that. It says human history goes back tens of thousands of years. But then our myths talk about these huge cycles, the Yugas, that are way, way longer and feel… different. More divine. Why don't they match up? Why do even smart people I know write off our scriptures as just old stories? What are they missing?"
He leaned forward, needing to understand. "And the stories themselves! They can't all be coincidence. A massive flood and a big boat in the Bible, a whole city called Dwarka sinking into the ocean in our stories, a lost city Atlantis in the West… they're all the same core tale, just with different details!"
His voice got heavier, the frustration from his old life bubbling up. "And the biggest question… why doesn't God just do something? Look at my world. It's a mess. People are greedy. They're arrogant. They build weapons that could end everything, they poison the planet, they use each other. They act like they're the ones in charge of it all. So where is the divine intervention? Why is heaven so quiet when things are so bad?"
Narad listened patiently, his head tilted like he was hearing the music behind Angat's words, not just the notes. "Easy, Vatsa, easy," he soothed, raising a hand. "One thing at a time. You're asking about the rules of the game. For that, you need to understand the board it's played on: the Kalachakra, the Wheel of Time. You've heard of the four Yugas...Satya, Treta, Dwapara, and Kali, the one you just left."
"I have," Angat nodded. "But they always just felt like… metaphors. Fables to teach kids to be good."
"Ah, but the biggest truths often come dressed as simple stories," Narad replied, his eyes twinkling. "It's how a small mind can start to grasp something infinite. These aren't just chapters in a history book. They are the fundamental seasons of existence itself, each one so long your modern science is only just starting to wrap its head around the concept.
Human memory is so short, Vatsa. A few hundred years feels like ancient history to you. If it weren't for the ancient Rishis who wrote this all down in Vedas and Scriptures, you'd have no memory of your own cosmic family tree. You'd be like a single leaf, thinking it's separate from the tree, with no idea about the roots or the changing seasons."
He leaned in a little, like he was sharing a secret. "Let me put it in terms you might get from your own life."
A playful look came into his eyes. "First, let's talk about the… Sacred Timeline."
Angat's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "From Loki? That's a real thing?"
Narad chuckled. "It's a fun, simplified version of a real cosmic rule. Think of the main flow of the Kalachakra as that Sacred Timeline...the big, unchangeable story of the universe. But from that main river, countless little streams and other realities branch off. The really big events within the fixed Yugas...let's call them 'Nexus Events'...are set in stone. They have to happen. They define what that entire age is all about."
"Like the great flood that took Dwarka, and in another place, Atlantis?" Angat asked, the pieces starting to click together in his mind. "That wasn't just different cultures making up similar stories… it was the same world-changing event, a reset button at the end of a Yuga, and everyone who lived through it just remembered it a little differently?"
"Now you're seeing it!" Narad said, beaming. "You're looking at the blueprint. The flood was a real, physical and spiritual shift as one age turned into another. The echo of that event traveled through the collective mind of early humanity and took shape in all your different myths. One event, a thousand reflections."
"That… actually makes a weird sort of sense," Angat admitted, his head spinning.
"Secondly," Narad continued, smoothly changing topics, "I know you love those cultivation novels."
Angat's face lit up with a boyish grin that felt out of place in the cosmic void. "Yeah! I love them! The main guys are the best. They're like gods' avatars, dropping into other worlds to crush the bad guys and, you know," he finished with a smirk, "get all the cool treasure, power, and the girls."
Narad laughed, a rich, warm sound. "Ah, yes. They're a very dramatic, very entertaining take on the principle of the Avatar. But you need to understand the real core of it, Angat: you are a god's avatar. I am one. Every single being in all of creation has a divine spark inside them. That's what gives you consciousness. The only difference is how aware you are of it."
He leaned forward, and his tablet lit up, showing a beautiful, slowly spinning wheel divided into four glowing parts. "Now, back to your novels. You know how they talk about 'Spiritual Qi Resurgence,' right? When the world's energy comes flooding back?"
"Of course!" Angat said, getting excited. "It's the best part! When everyone's power level just explodes!"
"Exactly," Narad confirmed, pointing to the first, shining gold section of the wheel. "That's the Satya Yuga. It's an age of pure potential. The 'Spiritual Qi'-what we call Dharma is at its absolute peak. The wall between the everyday world and the divine is barely there. People, animals, even the gods themselves, they all just get it. They understand their true nature and their power almost without trying. It's a golden age that lasts for thousands of years."
His finger moved to the next, silvery section. "Then comes the Treta Yuga. This is the age of huge empires and legendary heroes. The 'main characters' of this era like The Ram are the divine champions who show up to create order and show everyone how to live right. They build great civilizations and their main job is to fight back against the rising tide of evil, to keep it contained."
"So they're like the overpowered protagonists who start the good-guy factions," Angat said, connecting the dots.
"Precisely! You see it!" Narad said, looking pleased. He moved to the third, bronze-colored section. "Next is the Dwapara Yuga. Here, those great empires, after thousands of years, start to get corrupt. The line between good and evil gets blurry. Greed and pride creep into the foundations. The very institutions that were once good start to fight against new ideas and new voices, seeing them as threats. The 'good guys' can slowly become the very thing they were created to fight."
Angat's face fell. "That sounds… way too familiar. It's like a tech company that starts with a cool idea to help people, and ends up as a giant monster that sells your data and crushes its competition. The tool for good becomes a weapon."
"A perfect, if sad, example from your time," Narad agreed softly. Finally, his finger landed on the last section, a dark, iron grey that seemed to suck in the light. "And this… this is the Kali Yuga. The age of spiritual exhaustion. The world gets old and tired, like a man at the end of his life. The divine energy is at its lowest point. Evil isn't some monster you can fight in a war anymore; it's a pollution in the air. It's in your politics, your economy, your daily life. Greed gets called 'ambition.' Hypocrisy is 'diplomacy.' Thinking only about yourself becomes normal. This is the age where the spiritual light is at its dimmest."
"But that's awful!" Angat burst out, a feeling of hopelessness washing over him. "It sounds completely pointless! If this is just how it's supposed to be, why should anyone even try to be good? Why would any god bother with a world that's this far gone? You still haven't answered my question!"
Narad looked at him not with pity, but with a deep, timeless understanding. "This, Vatsa, is exactly when the world, in its deepest pain and loneliness, screams the loudest for help. This isn't the time for building shining kingdoms. It's the time for a reset. It's the time for the ultimate Avatar."
He lifted his tablet, and the screen showed four lines of Sanskrit, glowing with a soft, steady light.
"यदा यदा हि धर्मस्य ग्लानिर्भवति भारत ।
अभ्युत्थानम् अधर्मस्य तदाऽऽत्मानं सृजाम्यहम् ॥
परित्राणाय साधूनां विनाशाय च दुष्कृताम् ।
धर्मसंस्थापनार्थाय सम्भवामि युगे युगे ॥"
As the words hung there, Narad recited them, his voice losing its playful edge and taking on a power that seemed to vibrate in Angat's very soul.
"Whenever righteousness declines and unrighteousness rises, O Arjuna, then I manifest Myself. For the protection of the good, for the destruction of the wicked, and for the re-establishment of Dharma, I appear, age after age."
He let the promise in those words fill the silence. "This, Angat, is the answer to your 'why'. The silence isn't indifference. It's the necessary space for the drama of the age to play out, for people to make their own choices and live with the results. But it is never a complete silence. The promise is this: when the darkness seems total, a light will be sent. Not to rule as a king, but to restore balance just by being here. To be a truth so pure, a love so strong, or a justice so fierce that it cuts out the sickness at its root. The goal isn't to destroy the world, but to end the Kali Yuga itself, so the wheel can turn and a new golden age can begin."
Angat was quiet for a long time. The huge, terrifying picture was finally coming together, and the despair he felt began to change into something else...
a heavy, solemn understanding. "So… the Kali Yuga… it's not a punishment. It's just a season. A hard, cold winter. And it will end."
"Everything under the wheel must turn, Vatsa," Narad said gently. "You lived and died right in the heart of the Kali Yuga. Your anger, your confusion about all the greed and the silence… that wasn't you failing to understand. That was the symptom of the age itself. It's what it feels like to try and see the sun through a thick fog." He paused, letting his next words sink in. "And you being here now, asking these questions from your heart… that is part of the answer to the very problems you're asking about."