“Me he shall suck” - Indra, King of Gods
An age when kings still walked like legends: Yuvanaswa, sovereign of uncounted wealth, wrapped in favour and many queens yet bereft of the one treasure he craved above all, an heir. The wise Bhrigu, keeper of strange remedies, consented to craft a potent draught. The devout king arranged a solemn, fragrant rite that filled the air with smoke and song; days folded into nights until Yuvanaswa, spent and parched, wandered like a man between worlds.
He found a pitcher, cool and beckoning, and drank it all. The pitcher, unseen and
“Me he shall suck” - Indra, King of Gods
An age when kings still walked like legends: Yuvanaswa, sovereign of uncounted wealth, wrapped in favour and many queens yet bereft of the one treasure he craved above all, an heir. The wise Bhrigu, keeper of strange remedies, consented to craft a potent draught. The devout king arranged a solemn, fragrant rite that filled the air with smoke and song; days folded into nights until Yuvanaswa, spent and parched, wandered like a man between worlds.
He found a pitcher, cool and beckoning, and drank it all. The pitcher, unseen and
