Karkanart: (in a deep voice) "This, my friend, was one of the most complex intersections of politics and dharma. When Tara publicly accepted in the grand assembly that the father of this child was Chandrama, a deep silence spread across the heavens. Even Indra's mighty thunderbolt trembled in his hand. Chandrama, himself a revered deity, stood there like a guilty soul. Yet the child… that newborn infant we now call Budh… even while lying in the cradle, smiled like a sovereign emperor."
Vritkanth: "Such influence in the smile of a newborn?"
Karkanart: "Yes! Because he was no ordinary child. He was a unique union of Chandrama's beauty and Tara's intellect. When Devguru Brihaspati, the ocean of wisdom himself, gazed into the child's eyes, he saw no stain, no sin—only the future of an age yet to come. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and lifted the child into his arms.
But just then, the voices of Maharani Shachi (Indra's wife) and other celestial women echoed through the assembly. They raised a question, 'O Gurudev! Is a child born of an unethical union worthy of sitting among the gods? Will he receive the same honor and respect as a rightful son of dharma?'"
Vritkanth: "Karkanart, society's rules always put the creator himself on trial—whether human or divine."
Karkanart: "You speak the truth. Hearing those scornful words, Chandrama lowered his gaze in shame. He was filled with remorse. But then, something miraculous happened. That tiny child, who could barely even sit properly, stepped out of the cradle and stood on his own feet. A golden radiance emanated from his body.
The child Budh looked around the assembly and, in a calm yet deeply resonant voice, said, 'Respect is not something to be demanded, Devi. It is something to be earned. If my birth is a question, then my life will be its answer. I will make myself so worthy that the world will not know me by my father's name, but by my own wisdom.'"
Vritkanth: (astonished) "Remarkable! A newborn challenging the world to prove his worth?"
Karkanart: "Indeed. On that day, the brilliance of that child seemed to outshine even Indra's grandeur. Lord Brahma, witnessing this, smiled and declared, 'This child shall be named Budh, for his intellect is unparalleled. He will not just be a son, but an important planet in the cosmos and a symbol of knowledge.'
But my friend Vritkanth, politics is never simple. Brihaspati accepted the child, yes—but a lingering pain remained in Chandrama's heart. He had to return his beloved Tara, and he could not even keep his own son with him. The separation of Tara and Chandrama, and Budh's upbringing in Brihaspati's ashram as a stepchild—this is where began the intense journey that would shape the father of Pururava into greatness."
Vritkanth: "Did Budh receive the love he needed in Brihaspati's ashram? Or was he subjected to mockery there as well?"
Karkanart: "The environment of Brihaspati's ashram was extremely strict. It was a place of knowledge, not emotions. For Budh, it was less of a home and more of a testing ground. Guru's son Kach and the other disciples looked at him with suspicion. They believed that the son of Chandrama could never adapt to discipline."
Vritkanth: "So… did Budh break under that pressure?"
Karkanart: "No. This is where Budh's true journey begins. He chose silence as his weapon. He resolved to uncover the deeper secrets of the Vedas—truths that even his guru had not fully grasped."
The Rise of Wisdom Amid the Fire of the Ashram
The air by the lakeside had grown cooler. Vritkanth folded his legs and listened intently to Karkanart.
Vritkanth: "Karkanart, you said Budh was viewed with suspicion in the ashram. But a guru is supposed to be impartial—how did Brihaspati allow such bias?"
Karkanart: (nodding slowly) "A guru may be impartial, my friend—but disciples are not. Brihaspati's ashram was not just a place of learning; it was a reflection of celestial politics. The sons of Indra, the flames of Agni, and the radiant children of sages studied there. Among them, Budh was an exception. His origin story lingered like a bitter taste on everyone's tongue."
Vritkanth: "So he was left alone?"
Karkanart: "Solitude is the first step toward greatness, Vritkanth. While others practiced warfare or discussed beauty and desire, Budh would sit beneath the oldest banyan tree in the ashram and immerse himself in deep silence.
One day, Guru's son Kach mocked him, saying, 'O son of Chandrama! Your father is known for his restless nature, forever chasing stars. Have you come here to display your shine, or do you possess the courage to bear the weight of knowledge?'"
Vritkanth: (angrily) "That was deeply insulting!"
Karkanart: "Budh, who was meditating, opened his eyes. There was no anger in them—only profound depth. In a calm voice, he replied, 'Brother Kach, a father's nature does not define a son's destiny. Chandrama may offer coolness to the night, but I seek the sun that can burn away ignorance. As for knowledge—it is not meant to be carried as a burden, but to be lived.'
Vritkanth: "Wow… those words were sharper than arrows."
Karkanart: "That moment changed everything. Devguru Brihaspati himself overheard this exchange as he passed by. He realized that this child was not merely a subject of controversy, but the embodiment of wisdom. Later that day, he summoned Budh to his chamber and said, 'My son, your intellect moves faster than light itself. But remember—without penance, intelligence only nourishes ego. Are you ready to walk a path where you must even forget yourself?'"
Budh bowed his head with humility. For the first time, he felt not like an outsider, but like a seeker acknowledged by his guide. Yet, he also understood that this path would not be easy. It demanded sacrifice—not just of comfort, but of identity.
From that day onward, Budh devoted himself entirely to learning and self-discipline. He distanced himself from distractions, from praise, from criticism—even from his own past. While others sought recognition, Budh sought realization.
Days turned into months, and months into years. The boy once judged for his birth began to transform into a being defined by his wisdom. The whispers of doubt slowly faded, replaced by quiet respect. Even those who once mocked him began to observe him with curiosity—and eventually, admiration.
Yet deep within, Budh carried a silent fire. Not of anger, but of purpose. He did not wish to prove others wrong—he wished to prove himself right.
And thus, in the silence of the ashram, under the shade of the ancient banyan tree, a new force of intellect was rising. A child once labeled as a 'kalank' (stain) was becoming a beacon of 'kanti' (radiance).
His journey was no longer about where he came from.
It was about where he was destined to go.