Conversations on the Ganges

Rohan felt a strange mixture of disbelief and awe as he stood outside the busy streets of Varanasi, clutching a bag filled with the items Ravana—now calling himself Rudra Suryavanshi—had instructed him to gather. His mind was still reeling from the events of the past days. It was not every day that a renowned archaeologist stumbled upon the living embodiment of an ancient myth, let alone one as powerful and feared as Ravana.

And yet, here he was, following the instructions of the legendary demon king, reborn and now seamlessly adapting to the modern world. Rohan couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation pressing on him. He had agreed to help Ravana for reasons he still didn't fully understand—perhaps it was the allure of the impossible, or the chance to rewrite history. But deep down, there was something about Ravana that both terrified and fascinated him.

As he walked toward the ghats of the Ganges, the ancient city of Kashi came alive around him. The smell of incense, the sound of bells ringing from temples, and the hum of voices in prayer filled the air. But Rohan wasn't here for spiritual enlightenment. He was here to meet the demon king.

The river's edge was crowded with devotees performing rituals, but Rohan's eyes searched for the one figure that stood apart from the rest. He spotted him on a small wooden boat, floating gently on the calm waters of the Ganges. Ravana—no, Rudra now—sat there, dressed in simple yet elegant clothing, his form exuding a quiet, otherworldly power. His presence commanded respect, yet there was a calmness to him that disarmed those who might fear him.

Rohan approached the boat cautiously, stepping aboard as instructed. The boatman, who had ferried countless souls across the river, seemed oblivious to the conversation between the two, as if some invisible force shielded him from the magnitude of the encounter.

Rudra turned his gaze toward Rohan, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"You've brought the items I requested?" Rudra asked, his voice soft but commanding.

Rohan nodded, setting the bag down between them. "Everything you asked for. A smartphone, modern books on history and politics, even some clothes. I wasn't sure what exactly you needed, so I brought a few extras."

Rudra's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he reached into the bag and pulled out the smartphone. He examined it with curiosity, turning it over in his hands. "This device is... remarkable. It holds within it the power to connect minds, share knowledge, and control influence over vast distances. Technology, it seems, has evolved into the magic of this age."

Rohan sat down across from him, still struggling to adjust to the fact that he was conversing with Ravana, a being of legend. "The world has changed a lot since your time," Rohan ventured, feeling the need to say something. "People rely on technology for everything now—communication, commerce, even warfare."

Rudra placed the phone down carefully, his sharp eyes locking onto Rohan's. "Yes. The weapons of this age may be different, but the nature of power remains the same. It is still about control—control over information, control over wealth, and most importantly, control over minds."

Rohan listened in silence as the boat drifted slowly across the river. The air was thick with the scent of the Ganges, and the lights from the city reflected off the water, casting an ethereal glow around them. He had so many questions, but he wasn't sure where to begin. Finally, he settled on something that had been bothering him since their first encounter.

"Why did you choose me?" Rohan asked quietly. "Of all the people you could have approached... why an archaeologist?"

Rudra leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Because you understand the past," he replied. "You seek knowledge, not just for power, but for truth. I need someone who sees the world not just as it is, but as it was—and as it could be."

Rohan considered this for a moment, unsure whether to feel flattered or frightened. "But you could have easily found others... historians, politicians, people in positions of real influence."

Rudra chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "Influence is not always about status. It is about understanding. You have spent your life uncovering the secrets of ancient civilizations, trying to piece together the truths lost to time. That is exactly what I need. Besides," he added with a wry smile, "you are not as bound by the limitations of this age as others might be."

Rohan wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment, but before he could respond, Rudra stood up, gazing out across the river. The lights of the city sparkled on the water, creating an almost mystical atmosphere.

"This world has changed in many ways, Rohan," Rudra continued, his voice low and reflective. "But the essence of power remains the same. It has merely taken a different form. And now, I must learn how to wield it in this new era. I have no interest in returning to my old ways of brute conquest. This time, I will shape the world from within, using the tools that your people have created."

Rohan nodded, though his mind was still racing to catch up. He had always believed Ravana to be a figure of chaos, destruction, and tyranny. But this new version of him—Rudra—seemed far more calculated, far more subtle in his approach. It was both reassuring and unnerving.

"So, what's the plan?" Rohan asked cautiously. "Are you going to try to take over the world again?"

Rudra smiled, but there was something unsettling in the way his eyes gleamed. "The world does not need conquering, Rohan. It is already mine for the taking—if I play my cards right. My goal is not to subjugate, but to restore balance. There is chaos, yes, but order is also needed. And sometimes... a little chaos is the best way to bring about true order."

Rohan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But what about the others?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "The powers that have sensed your return. The sages, the rishis, the Asuras, and the Daityas. They know you're back. What happens when they confront you?"

Rudra's gaze grew distant as he considered the question. "They will come," he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact. "They will try to stop me, just as they did before. But this time, I will not be so easily defeated. I have learned from my mistakes. And as for the Asuras and Daityas... some will seek to ally themselves with me. I will welcome them, but only if they serve my purpose."

Rohan swallowed, unsure of what to make of all this. The boat continued to drift along the river, the sound of the water lapping against the sides creating a soothing backdrop to the intensity of their conversation.

"I understand your hesitation, Rohan," Rudra said softly, breaking the silence. "But know this: you are part of something much greater now. The past and the present are converging, and the future... well, the future is something we will shape together."

Rohan sat back, the weight of those words settling over him like a shroud. He wasn't sure what he had gotten himself into, but there was no turning back now. He had been chosen, and whether he liked it or not, he was bound to this ancient force—a force that was far more complex than the legends had ever told.

As the boat neared the opposite shore, Rudra glanced at the city skyline, his expression unreadable.

"I will need time to study this world, Rohan," he said. "I will learn its strengths and weaknesses, its desires and fears. And when the time is right... I will reveal myself."

The boat came to a halt, and Rudra stood, extending a hand to Rohan.

"For now," he said, "we prepare."

Rohan took his hand, feeling the strength behind the gesture. As they stepped off the boat and into the swirling chaos of Varanasi, Rohan knew that his life—and the world—would never be the same again.