The Return of Vidyapati
The sun hung low over Avanti, painting the palace's spires in hues of amber and rose, when a lone figure emerged from the western road. Vidyapati, dust-covered yet radiant, strode through the city gates, his sandalwood staff worn from weeks of travel. The people of Malava, sensing his return, gathered in the streets, their murmurs rising like a tide. Children tossed marigolds, and elders whispered prayers, for the young priest carried the weight of their king's divine dream. At the palace, King Indradyumna sat in his private shrine, his heart restless since Vidyapati's departure. The moment he heard the courtyard's clamor, he rose, his white robes trailing as he hurried to the great hall.
Vidyapati knelt before the throne, his eyes alight with triumph. "O King," he began, his voice steady despite exhaustion, "I have seen him—Nilamadhava, the Blue Jewel, radiant as the cosmic ocean, worshipped in a hidden cave by the Savara tribe." The hall erupted in gasps, courtiers and priests pressing closer. Indradyumna's heart leapt, his vision of Lord Vishnu now confirmed. He grasped Vidyapati's shoulders, his voice trembling. "Tell me, my friend, what did you see?" Vidyapati recounted his journey: the wild forests, the Savara's guarded ways, and the cave where Nilamadhava's glow had pierced his soul. "The Lord awaits you, in a land where the sea kisses the shore," he said, his words igniting the king's spirit.
Queen Gundicha, her face glowing with hope, joined Indradyumna, her hands clasped in gratitude. "The Lord has answered," she whispered. The palace buzzed with purpose. Indradyumna summoned his advisors, ordering a royal retinue to prepare for the journey eastward. Chariots were adorned with silk banners, horses readied,2 and priests packed sacred vessels for offerings. Vidyapati, though weary, agreed to guide the king, his heart bound to the mission. That night, Indradyumna prayed before his Vishnu Alles Vishnu idol, now a beacon of certainty. "O Narayana, let me behold your form," he murmured, the lamp's flame dancing in the shrine's darkness. As dawn broke, the king's caravan set forth, a procession of faith toward the land of Utkala.
The Journey to the Savara Land
The journey to the eastern shore was a tapestry of wonder and trial. The royal caravan wound through Malava's fertile plains, crossing the Vindhya hills where eagles soared above jagged peaks. As they entered the land of Utkala, the air grew heavy with salt and the scent of wild jasmine. The Mahanadi River roared beside them, its waters gleaming like molten silver under the sun. Indradyumna rode at the forefront, his white stallion steady, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea whispered promises. Vidyapati, riding beside him, pointed to the distant line of blue. "There, my king, lies Puri, where the Lord's will unfolds."
The forest grew denser, a labyrinth of sal and banyan trees, their canopies filtering sunlight into dappled pools. The path narrowed, forcing the chariots to slow, and the royal guards gripped their spears, wary of unseen dangers. Yet Indradyumna felt no fear—each step brought him closer to Vishnu's divine form. At night, the campfires glowed, and the king shared tales of his vision with his men, his voice fervent. "The Lord has called us to this sacred land," he said, the stars above mirroring his hope. Vidyapati, ever the scholar, noted the forest's sanctity, its silence alive with divine presence.
As they neared the Savara village, the sound of waves grew louder, the sea's breath mingling with the forest's hum. The path opened to a clearing where thatched huts stood beneath towering trees, their roots painted with red earth. The Savara people emerged, their dark skin glistening, their eyes wary yet curious. Viswavasu, the tribal chief, stood tall, his bone necklace glinting in the sunlight. Vidyapati stepped forward, his familiarity easing tensions. "We come in peace, seeking the divine," he said, gesturing to Indradyumna.
The king dismounted, his presence commanding yet humble. "Great chief, I am Indradyumna, guided by Vishnu's vision to honor Nilamadhava." Viswavasu's gaze softened, recognizing Vidyapati's bond with his daughter, Lalita. After a tense silence, he nodded. "The sacred lies hidden, but I will guide you." The tribe murmured, some in awe, others in fear, as the royal entourage followed Viswavasu toward the forest's heart.
Arrival at the Cave
The journey to the cave was a pilgrimage within a pilgrimage. Viswavasu led the way, his steps silent on the forest floor, while Indradyumna and Vidyapati followed, their hearts pounding. The air grew cool, the scent of moss and sea salt enveloping them. A narrow path wound through towering rocks, leading to a hidden crevice veiled by vines. The chief parted the foliage, revealing a cave mouth that seemed to pulse with ancient energy. Indradyumna's breath caught—this was the sanctum of his vision, where Vishnu's form awaited.
Viswavasu lit a torch, its flame casting shadows on the cave's damp walls. The royal guards remained outside, their spears lowered in reverence. Indradyumna stepped forward, his silk robes brushing the stone floor, his eyes wide with anticipation. Vidyapati whispered a prayer, his voice trembling. "O Lord, grant us your darshan." The cave deepened, its air thick with the scent of sandalwood and mystery. At its heart, a stone altar stood, where Nilamadhava's divine glow should have shone.
The Devastating Discovery
But the altar was empty. A pile of sand and broken vines lay where the idol should have been, the cave's silence deafening. Indradyumna froze, his heart plummeting. "Where is he?" he whispered, his voice cracking. Viswavasu's face fell, his torch trembling. "A great storm swept through days ago," he said, his voice heavy with grief. "The sea's wrath buried the sacred one beneath the earth."
Vidyapati sank to his knees, his hands clawing at the sand. "No, it cannot be," he gasped, his fingers finding only damp earth. Indradyumna staggered forward, his eyes searching the shadows, as if Nilamadhava might appear. The torchlight revealed only desolation—no blue jewel, no divine radiance. The king's vision, so vivid in his heart, crumbled like the sand beneath his feet. "Have I failed you, O Lord?" he cried, his voice echoing in the cave.
The Savara chief bowed his head, his people's sorrow mirroring the king's. "The gods move in mystery," Viswavasu said, his voice soft. "The storm was no accident." But Indradyumna heard nothing, his world unraveling. He stumbled from the cave, the forest blurring through tears. Vidyapati followed, his own guilt heavy—had his revelation to the king angered the divine? The royal retinue stood in stunned silence, their hope extinguished by the king's despair.