The King, the Brahman Youth & The Demon

Under the pitch-black sky of the new moon night, Emperor Vikramaditya retrieved the lifeless corpse of Betal from the ancient Shinshapa tree for the sixteenth time. As the King shouldered the burden in silent vow, Betal whispered with a sardonic grin.

In the prosperous realm of Shivapura, King Chandraprabha ruled with exemplary righteousness. He treated every subject as his own offspring, ensuring no voice went unheard and no injustice unpunished.

In that very kingdom lived Jivadhara, a brilliant young Brahman youth endowed with mastery of Vedic lore, fearless integrity, and profound devotion to the welfare of the realm.

One autumn morning, King Chandraprabha rode forth into the deep forests with his swift cavalry and huntsmen for a royal expedition.

Suddenly, an extraordinary golden stag appeared, galloping like the wind toward an uncharted, shadowy expanse of the wilderness. Fascinated, the King spurred his steed in solitary pursuit.

Galloping deep into the uncharted jungle, the King outdistanced his guards. The forest grew suffocatingly silent; the birds ceased their songs, and a heavy, sinister gloom descended upon the gnarled trees.

Having observed the King riding recklessly ahead, the faithful Jivadhara had tracked the monarch's trail through the dangerous thickets, arriving just as twilight deepened into night.

Suddenly the earth trembled! The heavens turned blood-red as the colossal Brahma-Rakshasa, Jvalamukha—his hair ablaze like burning embers and eyes glowing like molten lava—stepped from the shadows with a deafening roar!

Undaunted by the demon's terrifying stature, King Chandraprabha drew his ancestral blade, stepping between the monstrous beast and young Jivadhara.

The Rakshasa unleashed a mocking gale of laughter. With a single sweep of his shadow-wreathed hand, mortal weapons turned to ash, proving impervious to conventional steel through ancient occult curses.

The demon roared his grim condition: 'If one of you willingly surrenders his head and flesh beneath my claws, I shall grant the other free passage; otherwise, both shall be devoured alive in agony!'

Without a heartbeat of hesitation, King Chandraprabha removed his jeweled crown and placed it gently upon the forest floor. His face radiated serene resolve rather than mortal fear.

Hearing the monarch's decree, Jivadhara trembled with horror and fell to his knees, clutching the King's feet in desperate protest.

The King lifted Jivadhara with paternal tenderness, smiling gently under the ominous gloom: 'Noble youth, the highest virtue of a Kshatriya king is to lay down his life so that even a single innocent subject may live.'

Stepping directly beneath the demon's towering shadow, the King knelt, closed his eyes in peaceful prayer, and offered his bare neck for the death blow.

Just as the Rakshasa's jagged claws descended, Jivadhara bounded forward like lightning, throwing his own body across the King's shoulders to intercept the lethal strike!

The demon's monstrous claws froze in mid-air. Across centuries of terrorizing the living, he had never witnessed mortals competing with joyful fervor to surrender their lives for one another!

Touched by their sublime selflessness, the demonic darkness in Jvalamukha dissolved. The ancient curse that bound his soul was shattered into brilliant divine radiance!

With blessings showered upon them, the celestial spirit ascended to the heavens. King Chandraprabha embraced the brave youth with tears of boundless love, honoring him above all wealth in the empire.

Bringing the narrative to its climax, Betal grinned amidst the howling winds of the cremation ground and posed his cunning riddle.

King Vikramaditya paused, weighing the subtle depths of Dharma and duty before delivering his unassailable verdict.

"A King receives taxes and enjoys royal prestige specifically to bear the sworn obligation of protecting his subjects. Sacrificing his life is his sworn Rajadharma. But the young Brahman owed no royal debt, held no throne, and had everything to live for—yet he threw himself to the demon purely out of selfless love and unprompted devotion!"

The moment the righteous judgment parted from Vikramaditya's lips, the royal vow of silence was broken! Betal burst into a mocking, piercing cackle and vanished into the stormy heavens, returning to the highest branches of the Shinshapa tree!

Without a flicker of frustration, Emperor Vikramaditya drew his razor-sharp sword, adjusted his grip, and marched resolutely back into the pitch-black heart of the cremation grounds to retrieve the spirit once more!