The journey of Garud

In a world where stories often celebrate the triumph of strength, this tale reminds us of the triumph of devotion, courage, and morality. It shows the importance of remaining pure, even in the midst of adharma. This sotry by me chronicles the journey of Garud, a young prince of the Kuru lineage, and his beloved guru, Sahadev. Together, they face challenges that test their loyalty, courage, and resolve. How will they navigate the trials that fate has laid before them, especially after enduring such profound loss?

The story of Garud and Sahadev has been a truly rewarding journey for me. This is my first short story article, and it draws inspiration from our epics, particularly the tale of Garuda, the vahana of Vishnu. I have always been fascinated by Hindu mythology, and at 14 years old, I felt compelled to explore these timeless stories in my own way.

At its heart, this story celebrates the sacred bond between guru and shishya, and the purity of that connection. I hope readers will not only enjoy the adventure and drama but also reflect on the deeper morals of devotion, courage, and righteousness embedded within the tale

Here is a excerpt from the story:

That night I watched over my students. Something told me to remain awake, and then I saw them — two figures dressed in black, knives in their hands. I caught them just as they were about to cut Garud’s throat. No sound was made.

I managed to knock them both to the ground. When I tore off their masks, the faces beneath appalled me: Krodhavarsha and Kashyap. They had tried to kill their own child.

“Why?” I gasped.

“He’s a demon,” Kashyap choked out.

I could not execute them — they were the king and queen of Kuru — but I could not let this go. For three nights straight I watched this pattern repeat, remaining awake while the palace slept. I had no time even to mourn my wife properly; I was already consumed with the children’s safety.

“Gurudev, did you not sleep?” Garud asked one morning, setting a simple tray before me and kneeling beside me. “You can’t stay hungry for long,” he said gently.

I could not answer. My mind replayed the scene. “I don’t want to lose you,” Garud choked, tears slipping down his face. I placed my hand on his head and drew him close to my chest.

That night’s memory would haunt me forever. They had left a wound on Garud’s wing — a small cut, but it tore me apart. I confronted Krodhavarsha and Kashyap, demanding to know why they were doing this and what it would take to stop.

They looked guilty, and for a moment I allowed myself to hope they felt remorse. Krodhavarsha approached me with a rakhi and tied it around my wrist. “I promise you, with this thread tied to your wrist, Garud won’t be harmed. Do you accept?” she asked softly.

“I do,” I said without thinking.

Then she unfolded a white thread beneath the rakhi — a symbol of slavery. They had tricked me into swearing servitude, using my love for Garud against me.

“Garud won’t forgive this,” I said in a voice I rarely used with them.

“Calm down — you are our slave now,” Kashyap said, knocking me to my knees. The most dreadful part was that they were right.

“We think you have too much influence on our children, especially on that one,” Kashyap added, gesturing toward Garud. “Perhaps seeing their guru as your slave will teach them respect.”

I kept silent — any words might put Garud at greater risk. “Good,” Krodhavarsha laughed. “That’s exactly what we wanted.”