The tall ascetic stood erect, a trident in his right hand, his matted locks reaching his waist. His hair was wet with the waters of the divine stream that trickled from his head, and washed his feet before making its way earthwards. The ferocious serpent that he wore like an ornament in his neck, hissed and bared its fangs, its tongue slithering in and out of its mouth. The ascetic was fair, well-built and wore the skin of a tiger as a loin cloth. In his forehead, right in the center, was another eye, a third eye, which was closed at the moment. His skin, fair like camphor, was smeared with ash, and glowed with a heavenly light. His neck was dark blue, like indigo, and he wore small anklets in both his feet. He looked down at Aryamba and smiled, his smile dispersing the morning mist. ‘One brilliant child with short life span, or a fool with a long life, what do you want?’, his voice boomed at the kneeling figure of A
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