The Story of Vasant Mandir #5

The Story of Vasant Mandir

Kingdom of Varnatha, Age of Bloom

Before the first empire rose from the riverbanks of Varnatha, before even the stars whispered their names into the sky, there was Vāsa—Goddess of Spring, She Who Awakens the Bloom.

She was a gentle deity, born of scent and sunlight. Wherever her bare feet touched the earth, jasmine unfurled, rose petals opened with a sigh, and wounded hearts found peace. Vāsa was beloved—not feared—her temples filled with garlands and laughter. But her power stirred envy in her sister, Kālika, Goddess of Ruin and Rebirth.

Kālika, fierce and forgotten, demanded balance. “Let the bloom fall,” she said. “Let spring know sorrow.”

So began the Divine Sundering.

For seven days and seven monsoon nights, the skies raged. Lightning fell like swords. Varnatha’s rivers boiled. In the final hour, Vāsa knelt before her sister, not in surrender—but in love. She gave her life freely, sinking her soul into the temple walls, the flowers, the incense. Her blood became rosewater. Her breath, the jasmine wind.

Kālika, struck by grief, vanished into the deep earth. And the rains ceased.

Vasant Mandir was built upon the place where Vāsa fell. Carved from stone, draped in vines, guarded by silence. To this day, the temple blooms eternal. No matter the season, spring clings to its steps.

They say the air there is heavier. Sweet. Alive.
They say if you weep near the altar, the petals will stir.
They say the goddess still listens.

Light this flame to awaken her memory.
To honor love that kneels before wrath.
To remember that even gods bleed for peace.