echoes of Eternity

Before the whisper of existence, before the dance of stars, dwelled Adi-Buddha, the Primordial Awakened One. From His radiant form bloomed the six realms – the celestial Devaloka, the earthly Manushyaloka, the hungry Preta realm, the wrathful Asura realm, the hellish Naraka, and the animal realm, Tiryagyoni.

Twelve luminous beings, the Dvanaditya, sprang from Adi-Buddha's essence. There was Vairocana, the Illuminator; Amitabha, the Buddha of Immeasurable Light; and Akshobhya, the Immovable One. Each Dvanaditya watched over a realm, nurturing its denizens.

Then, from the void beyond existence, arose a tumultuous entity known only as Mara, the embodiment of primal chaos. Mara wasn't malicious, just a swirling vortex of unbridled creation and destruction. It threatened to unravel the nascent universe.

The Dvanaditya, united, employed the esoteric Vajrapani Mudra – a gesture of adamantine power. It cleaved Mara in two, birthing Ashura-Raja, the embodiment of controlled chaos and creation, and Indra, the avatar of untamed rage and destruction.

For eons, the brothers resided in Deva Loka. Asura-Raja, handsome and serene, basked in the admiration of the gods. Indra, however, with crimson eyes and a tempestuous aura, endured their scorn. He was ostracized, trained for war rather than piety.

One day, the simmering resentment in Indra's heart boiled over. He unleashed his power, a storm of pure destruction. Gods fell, celestial palaces crumbled. Only Shakyamuni, the newly awakened Buddha, could subdue him. As punishment, Shakyamuni uttered a chilling curse: "You shall be reborn, Indra, stripped of memory, forever teetering on the edge of power. Each awakening shall be your death, until you learn to let go of the past."

Thus began Indra's agonizing cycle. Every generation, born anew, he'd experience glimpses of his former life – flashes of anger, the sting of betrayal. With each glimpse came a surge of power, then a swift and violent demise.

This had been Indra's reality for millennia, a never-ending loop of pain and oblivion. Until now.

In the quiet village of Aśoka nestled on the foothills of the Himalayas, a thirteen-year-old boy named Arun toiled in the rice fields with his elder sister, Maya. Arun was different, a quiet observer with a brooding intensity in his eyes. Maya, with her warm smile and infectious laughter, was his anchor, his only solace.

One day, while fetching water from the mountain spring, Arun stumbled upon a hidden cave. Inside, a faded mural depicted a ferocious warrior battling celestial figures. As he traced the image, a wave of dizziness washed over him. Images flooded his mind: a golden palace, the taste of betrayal, the roar of a cosmic storm.

A piercing scream tore Arun from his vision. He found Maya lying unconscious, a large serpent coiled around her. Panic surged through him. A primal heat bloomed in his chest, coursing through his veins. The world seemed to slow down as he reached out, an invisible energy crackling around his hand. The serpent recoiled in terror, slithering away.

Maya stirred, her eyes widening in shock. "Arun?" she whispered.

Confused, disoriented, Arun helped his sister home. The echoes of his past swirled in his head. He didn't know what they meant, but a potent seed of anger had been sown. The first tremors of Indra's wrath were beginning to stir.