It was five o’clock in the morning. After his run, Sundar sat on a park bench, cooling down. The place was deserted, wrapped in a quiet that he savoured. Suddenly, he felt weightless. The ground slipped away, and he found himself rising swiftly into the sky. Before he could react, he was engulfed by a cloud, racing through it with landscapes shifting rapidly below. In minutes, the cloud slowed and gently lowered him to the bank of a vast, serene river.

Sundar barely had time to regain his bearings when a huge elephant lumbered toward the river and began drinking. To his amazement, the elephant's skin shifted, turning a pale, translucent green. Before he could process this, the elephant lifted him effortlessly with its trunk, carrying him toward what looked like a grand city. They entered through a massive arch made entirely of gold, studded with precious stones. The elephant trotted down a boulevard gleaming with metal underfoot.

Mansions lined both sides of the street, their facades like nothing Sundar had ever seen—otherworldly in their splendour. The street itself flowed with streams of milk and honey, from which strange human-like figures and exotic animals drank deeply. Sundar was in awe, his senses overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all.

A sudden "whoosh" broke the trance. Sundar turned in shock as the elephant began morphing before his eyes. In seconds, it transformed into a striking young man, no more than twenty, clothed in garments that shimmered with colours and textures Sundar couldn’t name.

Smiling, the young man said, "Welcome to the Yaksha Kingdom, ruled by Kubera. I am Huhu, a Gandharva. We can take any form we choose, as you’ve just seen. This is our capital, Alakapuri, and the river you crossed is Alakananda. You’ve been granted a rare audience with the King. Let’s not delay."

With a wave of his hand, a golden chariot materialized, pulled by a pair of winged horses resembling Pegasus. Still stunned, Sundar found himself seated beside Huhu as the chariot raced toward a palace, its walls alive with shifting colors. Huhu led him swiftly into a grand court hall.

Sundar had read about the legendary grandeur of Indra’s court, but this surpassed anything his mind could fathom. Time seemed to bend; minutes felt like eons. The hall swirled with the music of Kinnaras and the dance of Gandharva women. One dancer—a vision of grace, like an Apsara—smiled at Sundar and handed him a pair of ankle bells.

Before he could fully comprehend her beauty, the vision vanished. He was back on the park bench, heart racing, drenched in sweat. It had felt so real, yet surely it was a dream. He reached for his handkerchief, and as he unfolded it, there nestled in its soft fabric, was a pair of ankle bells.