The path to the Hall of Primordials was not a road, but a narrowing of reality itself, the ambient light of Brahmalok condensing into a focused, brilliant white that hummed with the frequency of pure potential. As they walked, Narad's usual melodic hum was replaced by a low, serious tone, his divine aura seeming to dim in reverence.
"Now, Vatsa, a few key points," he began, his voice a soft guide in the overwhelming silence. "We are about to meet the Lord Father, the Architect of the Grand Design and cosmos. Let me do the talking. Be calm, be respectful. And, ugh… well, he is less worshipped these days. It's a story of pride and a… confrontation with Lord Shiva, for another time. But he is mostly fine now, and works as the Cosmic Manager while, as you know, Lord Narayana is in his deep sleep."
"Of course, Narad Ji," Angat replied, his voice barely a whisper, the gravity of the moment settling upon him.
As they crossed the threshold, Angat's breath caught in his throat. The Hall was not a temple of stone and incense, but the universe's beating, synaptic heart. It was a symphony of light and data, a command center vaster than any NASA fantasy.
Countless holographic screens floated in the air, each a living window into a different corner of Creation showing bustling cities, silent forests, the birth of stars, and the private, flickering thoughts of millions. Divine clerks, their forms shimmering with intent like human-shaped constellations, monitored the streams, their silent reports weaving the very tapestry of reality.
Narad, with a reverence Angat had never seen in him before, led the way to the center of this cosmic storm. There, seated not on a throne, but at the nexus of all the flowing information, was a figure with four heads, each gazing into a different infinity, his form both ancient and endlessly new.
"Hello, Lord Father," Narad said, joining his hands. His voice, for once, held no mischief, only pure devotion. "Narayan Narayan."
One of Lord Brahma's faces turned from its screen, ancient eyes the color of a newborn galaxy settling on them. "Ah, Narad, my son. You have come." The voice was the low hum of a universe taking shape. "I was just about to review your task report. Since you are here, explain everything to me."
"It is like this, Lord Father," Narad began, gently pushing Angat forward. "This is Angat. During the recent… cosmic buffer incident, his life and karma were deleted from the universe. He is a soul displaced, stuck through no fault of his own."
As Narad laid out the entire circumstance...the glitch, the erasure, the journey from Yamraj's office - Lord Brahma fell silent. His gaze turned inward, a billion calculations flickering behind his eyes as he contemplated the error. Angat felt the weight of that silence, a scrutiny more profound than any he had ever known. Was it some divine intervention by Lord Vishnu? the silence seemed to ask. Narad, sensing the shift, grew quiet under his father's look.
After a long moment that stretched across epochs, Lord Brahma let out a soft breath, the sound of a solar wind. He flicked his fingers, as if physically dispersing the complex thoughts from his mind.
"Alright, son," he declared, his tone shifting from contemplative to decisively administrative. "Register him as your assistant. Fill out Form 7-Alpha for the 'Agents of Karma' department. And be sure to visit Kailash after this; I'll ping Shiva. He will grant him some additional boons." He gestured vaguely at Angat. "And yes, get him a nano-tech divine system installed. The Karmic OS 2.1. And get him a personal assistant."
"Alright, my Lord. I will do as you say. Farewell," Narad said, bowing deeply, a visible wave of relief washing over him.
As they turned to leave, Brahma's voice called out once more, casual and almost fatherly. "And, Narad?"
"Yes, Lord Father?"
"I'll do a five-star review for your task. Good job."
It was a small thing, a managerial courtesy in the heart of creation. But as they stepped out of the hall, Narad's shoulders finally relaxed, and a genuine, relieved smile touched his lips for the first time since they had entered.
"Come, Vatsa," he said, his spirit visibly lighter. "We have paperwork to file, and then… we go to meet the Destroyer."
As they navigated the gleaming corridors back towards the Administration Department, Angat's mind buzzed with a new kind of static...not of fear, but of overwhelming questions. The being they had just met was the Creator, yet Narad had treated him with a caution that bordered on wariness. The jovial, gossipy sage was gone, replaced by a serious diplomat.
"Narad Ji," Angat ventured, his voice hesitant. "What was that? You were so… serious back there. And the fight with Shiva you mentioned ...what was that about?"
Narad sighed, the sound carrying the weight of eons. He guided Angat to a quiet alcove where the light was softer. "Well, Vatsa, it is a long story of a father's pride. In some universes, his ego could be compared to Zeus. It is a… dark chapter in our cosmic history. But you see, he is mostly calm after that." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if the very walls had ears eager for gossip.
"According to the old stories, Lord Brahmā once had five heads. The fifth looked upwards, a symbol of his claim to supremacy over all. But his pride was his undoing." Narad's eyes grew distant, recounting the ancient tale. "When he created Shatarupa, the first woman, the very embodiment of beautiful, multifaceted creation, he became so captivated by his own creation that he could not look away. As she moved to escape his gaze, he grew a head in each direction to watch her."
Narad's voice became barely audible. "Seeing this that the Creator himself is consumed by desire for his own creation Lord Shiva grew furious. In that moment of divine wrath, to humble the arrogant architect, Shiva cut off Brahmā's fifth head."
He let the silence hang for a moment before continuing. "The scriptures say of such pride:-
प्रकृतेः क्रियमाणानि गुणैः कर्माणि सर्वशः ।
अहङ्कार-विमूढात्मा कर्ताहम् इति मन्यते ॥
It's meaning to be described as follows :-
" It is Nature that acts through its qualities, not the self. Yet the ego-deluded soul believes, 'I am the doer.'
That was his lesson. After that, he was left with the four heads we see today, forever looking outwards but never again claiming to be above all. His role as creator continued, but his worship on Earth and in the vast multiverse dwindled. That is the consequence of his pride, and the reason for the history we do not often speak of."
As Narad fell silent, Angat found himself plunged into a profound introspection. The story echoed uncomfortably in the chambers of his own memory. He thought of his own pride...the coveted college placement, the laurel he wore so visibly, the way he had always positioned himself to be seen, to be acknowledged.
It wasn't that he was overtly prideful, but somehow, an insidious ego had woven itself into the very fabric of his personality without his notice.
He had been thinking with that same ego even here, in the halls of the divine, secretly nurturing the thought that he was a special case, a unique error, perhaps even a subject of Lord Narayan's personal intervention. But now, hearing the fate of the Creator himself, that fledgling ego shattered before it could fully take shape, leaving behind only the raw, humble truth of his circumstance. He was not special; he was simply part of a much larger, humbling design.