tag

Two Myths. Two Hands. Too Much : Tyr and Ekalavyan

Ever trusted someone so much you’d give them a hand? Or maybe a thumb?
Well, these two did.
One was a student in the forest. The other, a literal god.
Both believed in honor.
Both got bitten.
Welcome to mythology’s most painful group project: Ekalavya and Týr.



 Norse Mythology : Týr and the Wolf Who Could Not Be Trusted

In a land of icy mountains and glowing skies, there lived a giant wolf named Fenrir. He was strong, smart, and growing more powerful every day. The gods of Asgard grew afraid. “If Fenrir grows too mighty, he may destroy us all!” 

But Fenrir had been raised among them, like a brother. Only one god, Týr, the brave god of law and honor, would feed him and play with him.

The gods made a plan. “Let’s tie Fenrir up, just to test his strength,” they said.

At first, they used iron chains. Fenrir snapped them easily.

Then the gods asked dwarves to make a magical ribbon, soft as silk but stronger than steel. It was called Gleipnir.

When they brought it to Fenrir, the wolf growled. “This ribbon looks like a trick. I will only let you tie me if one of you puts a hand in my mouth as a sign of trust.”

None of the gods dared... except Týr.

Týr looked at his old friend. “If this is what must be done, I will do it.”

He placed his right hand in Fenrir’s mouth. The gods tied the ribbon. Fenrir struggled—but could not break free. He had been tricked.

In fury, Fenrir bit off Týr’s hand.

Týr winced in pain but stood tall. “I did what was right, even if it hurt.”

From that day, Týr was known not just as a warrior—but as a god of courage and honor who gave up his hand to protect the world.

Hindu Mythology : Ekalavya and the Promise to a Teacher

Long ago, in a deep forest filled with chirping birds and swaying trees, there lived a clever boy named Ekalavya. He wasn’t a prince or a warrior. He was the son of a tribal chief, and he dreamed of becoming the greatest archer in the world.

Ekalavya had heard of a famous teacher named Dronacharya, who taught archery to royal princes. Ekalavya walked for days to reach him.

“I want to learn from you, Master Drona,” Ekalavya said with bright eyes.

But Drona shook his head. “You are not of royal blood. I cannot teach you.”

Ekalavya’s heart sank, but he didn’t give up.

He built a statue of Drona in the forest, and trained day and night, imagining the statue was his teacher.

Soon, his arrows could hit moving targets, and his skill grew greater than even the king’s sons.

One day, Drona and his royal students were walking through the forest when they saw Ekalavya. A single arrow from his bow could stop a barking dog without hurting it!

“Amazing!” the princes cried.

But Drona frowned. He feared that Ekalavya would outshine Arjuna, his favorite student.

“Who taught you?” Drona asked.

“You did,” Ekalavya smiled, pointing to the statue. “You are my guru.”

Drona paused. “Then, as your teacher, I ask for guru dakshina — a gift of thanks. I ask for... your right thumb.”

Ekalavya was shocked. Without his thumb, he could never draw a bow again.

But with trembling hands, he cut off his thumb and gave it to Drona.

Ekalavya’s eyes shone with pride, not pain. “A promise is a promise,” he said.

From that day on, Ekalavya was remembered not for his archery, but for the greatness of his loyalty and sacrifice.


Both Ekalavya and Týr remind us that sometimes, the bravest hearts are not the strongest warriors, but those who stand by their promises, even when it’s hard.


Whether in a forest in India or the halls of Asgard, true courage lives in sacrifice, trust, and doing what's right — even when it hurts.

Moral of the story :

“Sometimes, the people you trust the most are the first to bite — or take your thumb.”

So, if someone wants your loyalty, your talent, or your hand…Make sure they’re not going to chain a wolf or crown someone else. 


Brand guidelines : Hera/Peacock and Rama/Squirrel

Greek mythology : Argus & the Peacock's Tail

Zeus had a problem: Hera's guard dog, Argus, had 100 eyes watching him 24/7. Why? Because Zeus couldn't stop making goo-goo eyes at literally every nymph, mortal, and passing cloud. Hera was done with his "walking the divine dog" excuses.
"Hermes!" Zeus whispered. "Put that all-seeing mutt to sleep. Use the flute, not the sword. Less mess."
Hermes played a lullaby so boring, 99 eyes snoozed instantly. But one stubborn eyeball on Argus's ankle stayed wide open. "Seriously?" sighed Hermes, giving it a gentle bonk with his staff. Nap time. Hermes put Argus to sleep you mean "sleeping with fishes" "pushing daisies" .
Hera was furious! "My poor, loyal, multi-eyed boy!" To honor Argus, she plucked all 100 sleepy eyes and stuck them on a peacock's tail. Fancy!
Now, every time Zeus spots a peacock fanning its eye-covered tail, he flinches. It's like Argus is still watching... judging... reminding everyone of the King of Gods' very busy social calendar.
(And yes, Zeus went right back to his sneaky-sneak.)


Rama's Rockstar Crew & the Pebble-Pitching Squirrel


Rama needed a bridge to Lanka yesterday – Sita was waiting! Being the ultimate noble dude ("Maryada Purushottam"), every creature signed up to help. Hanuman’s monkey crew? Total MVPs, hauling mountain-sized boulders like it was arm day.
Then came a tiny squirrel. No boulders for him – just earnest pebbles, rolled one by one toward the sea.
Monkey Foreman: (Scoffs, nearly steps on him) "Pipsqueak! Scram! You'll get crushed! What's that gonna do?!"
Squirrel: (Puffing chest) "Filling gaps, dude! Every pebble counts for Lord Rama!"
The monkeys ROARED with laughter. Pebbles? Seriously? But guess what made Rama's bridge actually hold together? Yep. Those stubborn little rocks packed tight between the big boys.
Rama saw it all. He scooped up the squirrel, ignoring the monkey side-eye.
Rama: "My tiny engineer! Your hustle saved the project. MVP right here!" (Gently strokes the squirrel's back with divine thumb)
The Blessing: Instantly, three dark stripes appeared – Rama's fingerprints of honor! A permanent "I Helped Build That Bridge" badge.
So next time you see a squirrel with stripes? That's OG Rama Crew. Proof that no offering's too small when given with heart. Even pebbles move mountains... or rescue goddesses.

Moral of the story : 



                

Eye-Dentity Crisis: 100-eyed-Argus and 1000-eyed-Indra

 Have you ever wished for eyes in the back of your head? Well, meet Argus Panoptes from Greece and King Indra from India—two legendary figures who took the "all-seeing" thing way too seriously!

Greek mythology : Argus the Overworked Owl-Guardian

In ancient Greece, there lived a giant named Argus Panoptes, whose résumé read: "Professional Stare Master." Hera, the queen of the gods, hired him because he had 100 eyes—and someone had to guard Zeus’s secret crush, Io (who’d been turned into a heifer). Argus took his job very seriously: 
He never blinked. Like, ever. With eyes on his hands, knees, and even his toenails, he could spot a fly sneezing from three mountains away 1. 
Bedtime? Nope! While half his eyes napped, the other half stayed on duty. (Imagine brushing 50 sets of teeth every night!) 
Hobbies included: Counting sheep (with all 100 eyes), winning staring contests against statues, and making security cameras feel insecure. 
One day, the trickster god Hermes showed up disguised as a shepherd. He played such a boring lullaby on his flute that 99 of Argus’s eyes dozed off. But one stubborn eye stayed open! Quick-thinking Hermes chucked a rock (or waved a magic wand—myths can’t agree) and finally put that last eyeball to sleep. Hera, feeling guilty, rewarded Argus by sticking his peepers on a peacock’s tail. Now he’s forever fabulous—and still watching you swipe fries at the zoo 1.
Moral of the story: Even all-seeing giants need nap time.


Hindu Mythology : Indra the Eyeball Emperor


Meanwhile, in ancient India, the thunderbolt-wielding god Indra faced an eye-popping crisis. After a little oopsie involving a sage’s wife, a furious curse left him covered in 1,000 eyes! The wife got it worse (1000 vaginas) which was later downgraded to her turning to stone. 

Indra :

Getting dressed took 3 hours (buttons are nightmares).
Sneezing sounded like a popcorn explosion.
He cried during sad movies—and flooded entire cities.
Indra’s new eyes made him the ultimate multitasker:
He could watch 1,000 cloud-shows while hurling lightning at demons.
He spotted naughty kids hiding broccoli under napkins across three universes.

But oh, the downsides! Dust storms felt like sandpaper parties. And when he got allergies? Chaos.

One day, during a demon battle, Indra got distracted by a particularly cute squirrel. His 1,000 eyes all zoomed in—“Aww!”—and he accidentally zapped his own throne. The other gods facepalmed. To this day, Hindus say Indra’s eyes twinkle as stars... or maybe they’re just him winking at squirrels.

Moral of the story: More eyes = more problems (and way more tissues).

Bottomless bowls and a single snack to feel them all : Cornucopia/Olive and Akshayapatra/Rice

 

Greek mythology

Greek Buffet Hack: The OG Unlimited Dining Pass

A long time ago in the sky, baby Zeus had a big problem. His daddy, King Kronos, liked to eat everything—even his own kids!

So Zeus had to hide.

One day, a friendly goat named Amalthea helped him. She gave Zeus some milk and oops! broke her horn. But Zeus didn’t cry. He turned that horn into something magical: the Cornucopia, the horn that gives never-ending food!

Want grapes? Pop!
Want pie? Poof!
A mountain of snacks, just like that!

Later, some silly people tried to show off the horn at a big party. But it didn’t work for them. Only one tiny olive fell out.

Zeus picked it up, crunched it, and said,
"Yum. I'm full!"

Then—zap!—everyone else at the party felt full too!

No one knew how it worked... but hey, god magic is weird like that!


Hindu Mythology :

Draupadi’s Magic Pot™: Ancient Meal-Prep Sorcery

Far away in India, there was a smart queen named Draupadi. She and her family, the Pandavas, had a magic pot called the Akshayapatra. It gave them just enough food every day—until the sun went down. After that? No more snacks!

One evening, two very hungry wise men came after sunset. Uh-oh! The pot was empty, and no more cooking allowed!

Krishna’s Clever Trick
Just then, the wise and cheerful god Krishna showed up. He looked inside the pot.

There it was! One tiny grain of rice.

Krishna popped it in his mouth, smiled, and said,
"Ahhh, delicious. I'm full!"

And guess what? The two hungry sages?
They suddenly felt full too!

Moral of the story : 

Just one olive,
Just one grain of rice,
One magical horn,
One magic bowl...

Sometimes, a little bit is all it takes to feed the world.

Palace of Illusions : Útgarða-Loki and Mayasabha


Norse mythology : Utgard-Loki’s Castle – Where Thor Gets Schooled

Now to the frozen north, where giants build their own brand of trauma.

Thor, Loki, and their mortal sidekick Thjalfi enter Jötunheimr, a.k.a. giant country, and stumble upon the stronghold of Utgard-Loki. The castle itself is a vibe—impossibly large, menacing, and very much radiating "you’re out of your league" energy. Naturally, Thor kicks the doors in.

Inside? Not feasting and flexing. A challenge arena. Except everything’s off.

Loki, the original trash-talking trickster, enters an eating contest and loses. To a guy named Logi. Later revealed to be wildfire. Loki literally loses to fire at devouring. Poetic.

Thor then tries to lift a cat. Should be simple. Except… it’s not a cat. It’s the Midgard Serpent in disguise. Yeah. That serpent that encircles the entire world. Thor strains, groans, barely lifts a paw.

Then the final insult: he wrestles a frail old woman and loses. Spoiler? She’s not a woman. She’s Old Age. Time itself body-slams the god of thunder.

The next morning, Utgard-Loki, now fully in “evil mastermind monologue” mode, confesses everything. The trials? All illusions. The cat? A world-ending snake. The crone? Time. The hall? Smoke and mirrors.

Thor raises his hammer, ready to smash something—anything—but the castle? Already vanished.

What remains is only humiliation and a thunder god who will never emotionally recover from this.

 


Hindu mythology : Maya Sabha – The Palace That Started a War

Let’s talk about architecture with a vengeance.

After Yudhishthira’s Rajasuya yagna—basically an "I rule everything now" party—the Pandavas decide to level up. So they commission Maya, an Asura architect with flair and a knack for optical weaponry, to build them a hall. But not just any hall. This one bends reality. Walls shimmer like fog. Pools pretend to be floors. It’s like walking through a lucid dream with an ego problem.

Enter Duryodhana.

Crowned prince. Massive chip on his shoulder. Bigger crown. He strolls in to assert his dominance... and immediately steps into what he thinks is solid ground. Cue splash. It was a reflecting pool. Now it’s a puddle of royal embarrassment.

Then Draupadi laughs. And not a polite royal chuckle either—this one comes with shade: “The blind man’s son is also blind.”

That laugh? It lands like a slap. Duryodhana’s pride takes the fall harder than his robes. And just like that, a bruised ego turns combustible. The dice game. The disrobing. The exile. Kurukshetra. It all traces back to one hall, one illusion, and one woman who laughed at the wrong (or right) moment.

The palace didn’t just trick Duryodhana—it exposed him.



The Bleed & Breed Brigade : Hydra/Hercules and Raktavija/Kali


Greek mythology : Hydra

A long time ago in Greece, there was a hero named Hercules. He was super strong and super brave. One day, he was told to fight a monster called the Hydra.

But this wasn’t any old snake...
It had lots of heads—and if you cut one off, TWO grew back!

"That's not fair!" Hercules said. "How do I beat that?!"

So he called his cousin.
Together, they came up with a plan:
Chop, then burn!
Cut a head → sizzle!
Cut another → sizzle!

They used fire to stop the heads from growing back. Finally, the Hydra was gone!

Moral?
Always bring your cousin to monster fights.

Hindu mythology: Raktabija

Now, let’s fly to India. There was a scary demon named Raktabija. He had a weird superpower:
Every time a drop of his blood hit the ground...
POOF!
A new Raktabija appeared!

One became two... then four... then a whole army!
No matter how many times the heroes hit him, he just kept multiplying.

Time to call in the big boss: Kali. Kali had lots of arms, wild hair, and a plan.

One hand had a sword, one had a bowl, one held a trident—and another? Maybe snacks?

She started fighting:
Slash!
She chopped Raktabija again and again, but
She caught every single drop of blood before it touched the ground!
No more copies. No more demon.

She saved the day!

But uh-oh... she didn’t stop.
She danced. She stomped. She roared!

The earth shook. The sky wobbled. The world was about to break! Her husband, the calm god Shiva, saw her going full-on rage mode. He didn’t yell. He didn’t run.

He just...
lay down on the ground.

When Kali saw him under her feet, she stopped, gasped, and said:
"Oops!"

She bit her tongue (ever seen that statue? Yup, that’s why!)
and turned back to her peaceful self.


The Big Ideas:

  1. If your monster grows more heads when you chop them? Call your cousin. Bring fire.

  2. If your partner is super mad and turning into a dance tornado?
    Lie down. Play dead. Save the world.

Endless feast and Divine goats and cow : Tanngrisnir,Tanngnjostr/Goats and Kamadhenu/Cow

Divine Buffets & Cosmic Loopholes: When Mythology’s Cooks Wing It

Picture this: You’re an elf in Middle-earth, handing Frodo a single wafer of lembas bread. “Eat just one!” you chirp, while internally cackling, “Four max, mortal—or your tiny human stomach explodes.” Tolkien’s elves knew the oldest trick in the divine cookbook: limit the portions, pretend it’s infinite, and call it magic.
But Norse and Hindu myth? Oh, they perfected the art of ”endless meal” hacks—with catchier side quests.
Norse Mythology : Thor’s Goat Glitch: The OG Shady Butcher
The “Meat” of the Story:
Thor’s hammer Mjölnir wasn’t just for smashing frost giants. It doubled as a celestial reset button for his Uber Eats goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr (aka “Teeth-Barer” and “Teeth-Grinder”—which sounds like a Yelp review for Valhalla’s worst dentist).
Every night:  Butcher goats.  Feast. Nap like a god who just conquered a Golden Corral.
Morning: Stitch hides + bones → wham with hammer → goats resurrect, good as new.
The Catch: Don’t nibble the bones. Don’t suck the marrow. Definitely don’t let your servant Pjálfi crack a femur like a glow stick at a rave. 
(Spoiler: He did. One goat resurrected with a limp. Thor “settled” out-of-court by enslaving Pjálfi for life. #NorseJustice.)


Hindu Mythology: Kamadhenu’s Udder Nonsense Infinite Milk, Zero Butchery

The “Meatless” of the Story:
The Vedas had already dropped a less violent, more sustainable culinary cheat code: Kamadhenu — the celestial cow who doesn’t need to be slaughtered for sustenance because, well, her whole existence is one big “Serve Forever” function.
Kamadhenu wasn’t just a cow. She was a walking food generator, divine vending machine, and holiness-on-hooves. She could grant any wish — especially if that wish involved food, gold, armies, or a catered yagna with artisanal ghee. No bones broken. No court-ordered servitude required.
Daily operations: Moo softly. Magically produce enough food for a kingdom. Float peacefully in a sunbeam while sages cry tears of gratitude.
The Catch”DO NOT START DRAMA OVER THE MAGIC COW.” Kings: *[immediately start 10,000-year blood feud over bovine]*
Result: Curses, holy wars, and the original ”This is why we can’t have nice things”.

Stats