Indra's Humiliation - The Parade of Ants

The palace was magnificent. Every god had contributed—Vishwakarma's architecture, celestial gems from the ocean, gardens that bloomed in impossible colors.

But Indra wanted more.

Indra: "Higher towers, More gold. Let every being in the cosmos know who rules heaven."

Vishwakarma, divine architect, was exhausted. He went to Vishnu for help.

The next day, a child appeared at Indra's court. Beautiful, radiant, with eyes that seemed to contain stars.

Indra: "Welcome, young brahmin. Have you come to admire my palace?"

VISHNU: "I have come to see what Indra has built. It is... nice."

Indra: "Nice? It is the greatest structure in existence!"

VISHNU: "The greatest in this existence, perhaps. But tell me—do you know how many Indras there have been?"

Indra: "I am Indra. There is only one."

VISHNU: "In your memory. Let me tell you what I've seen. Universe after universe, blooming and dissolving like bubbles. Each one has its Indra. Each Indra builds his palace. Each believes himself eternal."

Indra: "You speak nonsense."

VISHNU: "Do I? Watch them."

Indra looked, annoyed.

Indra: "What of them? Insects."

VISHNU: "Each of those ants was once an Indra. They ruled heaven, defeated demons, built palaces grander than this. Then their time ended. They fell. Rose again. Fell again. Became saints, became sinners, became ants. The universe is very, very old. Your reign is very, very brief."

Indra felt the ground shift beneath him.

Indra: "That's... not possible."

VISHNU: "Why not? Because it frightens you? You killed Vritra. Congratulations. So did the Indra before you, and the one before him. The cycle continues. Demons rise, Indras defeat them, Indras grow proud, Indras fall, new Indras come."

Indra: "Then what's the point? If nothing lasts—"

VISHNU: "The point is to perform your role well. Not because it makes you special—but because the role needs performing. You are Indra. Rain falls because of you. Seasons turn because of you. But 'you' is just a position. The awareness behind Indra, behind the ants, behind everything—that's what matters."

Indra: "Who are you?"

VISHNU: "I am the one who was before Indras existed. I am the one who will be after the last Indra forgets the meaning of heaven."

The child's form began shifting—four arms, blue skin, a smile that contained compassion and terrible knowledge both.

Indra: "Vishnu."

VISHNU: "Among other names. Build your palace, Indra. Enjoy your reign. But remember the ants. Remember that the line of former Indras stretches back further than you can imagine."

Indra: "And forward?"

VISHNU: "Forward too. Someday another Indra will stand here, in another palace, and perhaps another child will come to teach him the same lesson. The question isn't whether you'll be remembered. The question is how you use your time before you're forgotten."

Indra sat alone in his glorious, suddenly small palace.

The ants continued their march across the floor.

Former rulers of heaven, reduced to insects.

After a long moment, Indra called for Vishwakarma.

Indra: "Stop building. The palace is sufficient."

VISHWAKARMA: "But you wanted—"

Indra: "I wanted to feel eternal. I've just learned I'm not. Sufficient is enough. Perhaps sufficient is everything."