The Earth was unraveling.
Since the gods had stripped Lakshmi, Vaibhavi, and Alakshmi of their powers, the delicate balance they had once maintained began to falter. Prosperity turned to famine, wisdom became confusion, and misfortune no longer taught lessons—it wreaked havoc indiscriminately. The mortals, unaware of the divine test, were left to fend for themselves, with no explanation for the chaos that now ruled their lives.
In Sumati's village, the people struggled to maintain hope. The once-bountiful fields had withered, leaving the farmers with little to harvest. The once-clear waters of the pond, where the villagers had offered their prayers, were now murky and stagnant. The children, who had thrived under Lakshmi's blessings, grew weak, and the villagers began to question everything they had once believed.
Deepa, who had always been torn between faith and doubt, found herself leaning more toward despair. "Perhaps we were wrong to place our trust in the goddesses," she murmured one evening, standing beside Sumati. "Perhaps the other gods have abandoned us because of our devotion to them."
Sumati, though her heart was heavy with the same uncertainty, refused to give in. "Faith is not something we discard when times are difficult," she replied gently. "This is a test, both for us and for them. The goddesses will return, and balance will be restored."
But even as Sumati spoke, doubt crept into her own heart. She had prayed every day, trusting that the goddesses had a greater plan. But with each passing day, the world around her grew darker, and the cries of her fellow villagers grew louder. How much longer could they hold on?
Meanwhile, in the celestial realms, the gods watched closely. Indra, satisfied that his test had proven its point, was ready to restore the goddesses' powers. But Mahadev, ever wise and patient, had insisted that the test continue. He knew that the lesson here was not just for the goddesses, but for the gods and mortals alike. Faith, after all, was not something that could be tested or measured in a short span of time—it required endurance.
Narad, who had been observing the unfolding events, was troubled. He wandered between the celestial halls and the mortal realms, his heart heavy with the weight of what he saw. The mortals were suffering, and the balance that Vishnu, Vijaya, and Kalavira had maintained for eons was crumbling. Narad's devotion to the cosmic brothers fueled his belief that balance would eventually be restored, but he knew that the world could not continue like this for much longer.
As he traveled, singing the praises of Vishnu, Vijaya, and Kalavira, Narad found himself in the court of Mahadev. He approached Mahadev, his face etched with concern. "O Lord, the world is falling apart. The mortals are losing faith. If this test continues for much longer, I fear the damage may be irreversible."
Mahadev, calm as always, regarded Narad with his piercing gaze. "Faith cannot be restored by force, Narad. It must grow naturally, even in the darkest of times. Only when the mortals understand the value of balance will they truly appreciate the gifts of the goddesses."
Narad bowed his head. "I understand, Mahadev. But the suffering is great. How will they hold on if everything they once trusted in is taken from them?"
Mahadev's expression softened. "The true test of faith is not in prosperity, but in adversity. Let us see who holds on to hope, even when all seems lost."
Back on Earth, the village's situation worsened. The crops were nearly gone, and what little food remained was being rationed among the people. Families huddled together at night, sharing what warmth and comfort they could, but the uncertainty gnawed at them. The gods they had once worshipped, the deities they had trusted, seemed distant and unreachable.
Sumati, though her own faith was strong, could feel the despair settling in around her. She could see it in the eyes of her neighbors, and even in Deepa, who had always looked to her for guidance. The villagers had stopped gathering at the pond to pray, believing their prayers had gone unheard.
One night, as Sumati knelt alone by the now-stagnant pond, she whispered a prayer—not for prosperity, not for wisdom, but for strength. "Goddesses, I do not ask for your blessings to return. I only ask that we find the strength to endure this trial. Please, do not let us lose hope."
Her prayer, though quiet, echoed through the celestial realms.
Lakshmi, Vaibhavi, and Alakshmi, though stripped of their powers, still felt the connection to the mortals. They heard Sumati's prayer, and for the first time since the test had begun, they understood that their role was not simply to bestow blessings or bring balance—it was to teach the mortals the strength of faith.
The three sisters, sitting by the same pond they had first descended to, shared a silent understanding. Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity, knew that her blessings meant nothing without the endurance to sustain them. Vaibhavi, the goddess of wisdom, understood that true wisdom was found not in abundance, but in times of hardship. And Alakshmi, the goddess of misfortune, realized that her role was not just to bring balance, but to teach resilience.
"We must act," Lakshmi said softly, her golden eyes reflecting the still waters.
"But we are powerless," Vaibhavi replied, her voice calm but heavy. "The gods have taken our abilities."
Alakshmi, whose presence was often feared, spoke last. "The power we have is not in our gifts, but in the faith of the mortals. It is their devotion that will restore the balance—not the gods."
The three goddesses stood from their lotus thrones, their forms reflecting in the pond. Though their powers had been stripped, their purpose had not. Together, they reached into the water, each touching the surface with their hands. As they did, the pond began to shimmer once more, not with the golden glow of prosperity, but with a deeper, quieter light—the light of faith.
At that same moment, in the village, Sumati opened her eyes. The world around her was still dark, but something had changed. She felt a warmth in her heart that she hadn't felt in days—a small, flickering flame of hope.
She stood from the pond and looked toward the village. The people were still suffering, but they hadn't given up entirely. Deepa, though weary, was helping a neighbor with her crops. The children, though weak, still laughed as they played. The world had not ended.
And so, Sumati walked back to the village, her heart lighter than it had been. She did not know when the balance would be restored, but she knew one thing for certain: faith, even in the smallest amount, could sustain them through the darkest times.
The gods, watching from the heavens, saw the change in the mortals. Mahadev, who had remained silent throughout the test, smiled faintly. "The lesson has been learned," he said softly. "Restore their powers."
Indra, though reluctant, nodded. With a wave of his hand, the goddesses' powers were returned to them.
On Earth, the pond shimmered with golden light once more. The crops began to grow, the rivers flowed freely, and the balance was restored. But this time, the mortals did not rejoice out of desperation—they rejoiced with understanding.
For now, they knew that true prosperity, wisdom, and balance did not come from the gods alone, but from the faith they held within their own hearts.
This chapter focuses on the continuing test of faith and the deeper lesson the goddesses and mortals alike learn about balance, resilience, and the importance of enduring faith.