It is not commonly known that trolls originated in India, but it’s the truth. At least according to Esh, the ancient, white, blind Cobra who told the tale. And no one had ever known Esh to lie.
Hanuman’s grandfather was blessed with outstanding memory. This is the story he told and for which he in turned thanked the blessings of those many outstanding memories that had gone before.
Vishnu was bored.
The sun and moon and stars and the many planets, one rounder than the next, spun their soft, silent songs in perfect rhythm, all according to perfect plan and perfect wish.
Light shone through the universe from the center of Vishnu to each end, to all ends, and when it reached the ends, by shining it pushed them before it, chasing them as they fled into farther and farther and into larger and larger, and some say that light still chases the far ends of the universe into ever larger.
The planets spun like spinning tops that in turn spun around suns like wheels, pacing the years in quick succession, one or ten to a Vishnu breath, while the galaxies rolled and sailed in waves so majestic only one whose time is endless can see them move.
This was Vishnu’s playground—vast, organized, brilliant, and moving, expanding.
And, yet, for all this beauty, for all this symmetry and dance, Vishnu was bored.
Maybe he had seen it all before, what do I know. Maybe this was not the first universe he had built. Maybe this was the last in an endless row of universes, one more complex, more dancing than the next, what do I know. But after some trillion trillion years of watching and tweaking and adjusting and shifting this mighty dance he was bored.
The tale does not tell whether he chose only this world, or whether this world is one of a trillion trillion worlds that he chose. It is enough that we should think that this is the only world he chose, for that makes us important.
About Ulf Wolf
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Published November 22, 2012
History, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Literature & Fiction.