Vritkanth: "What did Budh reply?"
Karkanart: "Budh bowed his head at the feet of his guru and said, 'Gurudev, show me the path where my birth itself becomes truth.'"
From that moment, Brihaspati began teaching him the profound mysteries of Rit—the cosmic order that governs existence. Where other disciples would take months to memorize a single hymn, Budh would hear it once and unfold layers of meaning hidden within it. His intellect was so sharp that the sacred verses themselves seemed to reveal their essence in his presence. It was as if knowledge recognized him as its rightful seeker.
Vritkanth: "But Karkanart, had the shadow of Tara and Chandrama completely disappeared from his life? Did he not miss his mother?"
Karkanart: "Of course he did, my friend. Every full moon night, when Chandrama rose in the sky in his complete glory, Budh would sit for hours gazing upward. In that luminous presence, he remembered his mother Tara—the sorrow in her eyes, the silent pain she carried. He knew that whatever had transpired between his parents had turned his very existence into a question mark. And it was this very question that fueled his determination.
He resolved that he would not remain merely a disciple among the gods. He would seek the ultimate truth itself. He decided that one day, he would go beyond even Brihaspati's teachings and take refuge in Brahma to attain the highest knowledge."
Vritkanth: "So did he leave the ashram at that point?"
Karkanart: "Not yet. Before leaving, he needed to prove something—to the world, to the gods, and perhaps most importantly, to himself—that he was the greatest disciple of Brihaspati. It was during this time that Devraj Indra organized a grand test, inviting all the young sages to prove their intellect. Budh understood that this was not just a test—it was a battle for his identity."
Indra's Assembly and the Trial of Wisdom
The silence by the lakeside deepened as the night grew darker. The only sounds were the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle lapping of water. Vritkanth stretched his neck slightly, sensing that the story was approaching a decisive turning point.
Vritkanth: "Karkanart, you mentioned that Indra organized this test. But he is the god of power and warfare—what interest did he have in the intellect of young sages? Was there some hidden politics behind this?"
Karkanart: (adjusting his wings thoughtfully) "Your insight is sharp, my friend. Indra was afraid. He feared that if the son of Chandrama truly turned out to be as wise as people claimed, he might one day challenge the authority of the gods themselves. Indra wanted to humiliate Budh publicly, to shatter his confidence. That is why he organized a grand assembly called Brahma Jigyasa, inviting great sages and divine sons from across the heavens."
Vritkanth: "Did Budh attend this assembly? Was he not afraid?"
Karkanart: "Fear? The word did not exist in Budh's vocabulary. Clad in simple white garments, carrying nothing but a blade of sacred grass in his hand, he entered the assembly. His face bore a deep, tranquil calm—the kind that comes only from profound meditation.
Indra sat upon a golden throne, surrounded by the Saptarishis. The hall radiated grandeur and authority. Indra announced, 'Whoever answers the deepest questions posed in this assembly shall be honored as equal to a Brahmarishi.'"
Vritkanth: "What was the first question?"
Karkanart: "Indra smiled faintly and looked directly at Budh. He asked, 'O child, tell me—what is the fastest in this universe? Light, air, or the mind?'"
Vritkanth: "That seems simple. Anyone would say 'the mind'!"
Karkanart: "And that is exactly what happened. Many disciples answered 'the mind.' But Budh stepped forward and said, 'Devaraj, the mind is indeed swift, but it is a servant of the senses. Air is swift, but it is bound by direction. The fastest of all is resolve—Sankalp. The moment resolve arises, the mind, air, and even light come into its service. Without resolve, even speed has no direction.'"
Vritkanth: (taking a deep breath) "Incredible… resolve as the foundation of all motion."
Karkanart: "Indra's expression faltered slightly. But he was not done. He asked his second question: 'Tell me, what is the greatest truth of existence? Birth, death, or action?'"
Vritkanth: "That is a question only the creator himself could answer!"
Karkanart: "Yet Budh remained unmoved. He replied, 'Devaraj, birth is a beginning, death is an end. But the void that exists between them—that is the ultimate truth. What we call action is merely an attempt to fill that void. One who understands this void transcends both birth and death.'"
Vritkanth: "These words carry the depth of Vedanta itself. Did Indra accept defeat after hearing this?"
Karkanart: "Not yet, my friend. Indra then launched his final and most piercing question. He asked, 'Budh, whose son are you? Of your birth-giver Chandrama, or of your protector Brihaspati? If you are truthful, tell us—what does your dharma say?'"
Vritkanth: (shaken) "That was a direct attack… on his very existence."
Karkanart: "The entire assembly fell silent. Brihaspati lowered his gaze. Chandrama hid behind clouds in the sky, as if unable to face the moment. But Budh… Budh smiled.
There was no bitterness in that smile. Only clarity.
He said, 'Devaraj, by body I carry the essence of Chandrama. By upbringing, I am a disciple of Brihaspati. But by soul, I belong only to the Supreme—one who has no name or form. A father gives the seed, a guru nourishes with knowledge, but a tree chooses its own destiny. My dharma is defined by my character, not by my lineage.'"
Vritkanth: "What a response! What happened in the assembly after that?"
Karkanart: "The entire hall erupted in praise. Even Maharishi Vashistha rose from his seat and placed his hand upon Budh's head in blessing. Indra stood speechless, defeated not by force, but by wisdom.
But remember, my friend—success often breeds enmity. Indra had now realized that Budh could not be suppressed through humiliation. And so, he began weaving a different kind of web—a web of illusion, deception, and subtle manipulation."
The Beginning of Indra's Illusion and Budh's Detachment
The atmosphere near the lake had grown even more intense. The stillness carried a sense of anticipation, as though the universe itself was listening.
Vritkanth, the turtle, sat completely absorbed—no longer just a listener, but as if he had become a witness to that divine assembly.
The story had now moved beyond questions of birth and identity.
It had entered the realm of power, illusion, and inner awakening.
Budh had won the battle of intellect.
But the war… was only just beginning.