Long ago, when the heavens and the earth were still intertwined in a delicate balance, there existed a realm of great splendor - the realm of Apsaras. These celestial maidens, ethereal beings born of starlight and song, danced and glided through the skies, bringing beauty and grace wherever they went. Among them was Shanta, an Apsara known not only for her delicate charm but for her wisdom and quiet strength. Her name, meaning "peace," reflected her calm nature, and her presence brought serenity to the turbulent heavens.
One evening, during a celestial festival in Indra's court, something extraordinary occurred. As the moon hung low in the sky, glowing with a pearlescent light, it suddenly dimmed. A collective gasp echoed through the heavens. The celestial dancers halted mid-step, the music faded into an eerie silence, and all eyes turned toward the moon. In place of its usual serene glow, there was a void, and from that void fell a single radiant tear - a tear of the moon itself.

With an axe in hand, this woman exudes strength and composure. Sitting on a log in the forest, she balances her powerful presence with the peaceful surroundings, embodying both warrior and nature.
This tear, known only in ancient lore as
Chandratara, was said to hold unimaginable power. It was a fragment of the moon's very soul, embodying the purest form of serenity, wisdom, and light. For eons, it had been hidden within the moon's heart, ensuring balance between the realms. But now, for reasons unknown, it had fallen.
The tear plummeted toward the earth, disappearing into the dense forests below, and the world immediately began to change. The harmony between earth and sky was disrupted. Storms raged across the heavens, the stars blinked and dimmed erratically, and the once-clear rivers of the earth turned turbulent and muddy.
Seeing the chaos that ensued, Indra, the king of the gods, summoned the wisest of his council. "The moon's tear must be recovered and returned, or the balance between the realms will be lost forever," he decreed. Yet none among the gods or goddesses knew how or where to find such a rare and mystical object. Many feared that the tear had vanished beyond their reach, into the shadows of the mortal world.
It was then that Shanta, gentle and thoughtful, stepped forward. "I will find the tear," she said, her voice soft yet unwavering. "I can sense its sorrow. It calls to me."
Indra, though skeptical, could not deny her sincerity. And so, with a blessing from the gods, Shanta descended to the earth to begin her quest.
Upon reaching the mortal world, Shanta was struck by the immense beauty and chaos that coexisted there. The once harmonious forests were now wild and overgrown. The animals, once calm, had become restless. Even the winds seemed to carry whispers of unease. But Shanta, ever serene, began her journey through the dense woods, guided only by the faint glow of the lost tear.
Days turned to nights, and nights to days, as she traveled deeper into the wilderness. Along her path, Shanta encountered many beings - some who tried to hinder her, others who offered their aid. Among them was the great serpent Vasuki, who coiled around the base of a sacred tree, guarding the entrance to a hidden cave. It was said that the cave was the home of ancient forces, long forgotten by both gods and mortals.
"The tear lies within," Vasuki hissed, his silver scales gleaming in the dim light. "But beware, for the tear has awakened an ancient darkness. To reclaim it is to face what even the gods fear."
Shanta, though aware of the dangers, remained calm. She bowed to the serpent and stepped into the cave. Inside, the air was thick with silence, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing against the stone walls. The cave was vast, and in its depths lay a pool of water that shimmered faintly in the dark. At the center of the pool, resting on a bed of ancient stone, was the
Chandratara, glowing softly, but its light was not as it once had been. The tear pulsed with a sorrow that Shanta could feel deep within her heart.

Captured in a moment of mystique, the woman stands by the fire pit, her mesmerizing presence enhanced by the warmth of the flickering flames and the night surroundings that frame her image.
As she reached out to retrieve it, a voice, deep and menacing, reverberated through the cave. "Who dares to disturb the slumber of the ancients?" From the shadows emerged a figure of immense power, an ancient being forgotten by time - Kala, the guardian of lost things. His form was that of shifting shadows and swirling mist, his eyes glowing with a dim, ancient light.
"I am Shanta," she replied calmly, "and I seek to return balance to the world. The tear of the moon does not belong here."
Kala's laugh echoed ominously through the cave. "The tear was cast down by the will of the heavens. It is mine now, to guard for eternity. You will not leave with it."
But Shanta, unwavering, approached him slowly. "This tear was not meant to be hoarded in darkness. It was born of sorrow, but it also carries light. Let me return it to the moon, where it belongs, and peace will be restored."
Kala paused, sensing something in her words. His form flickered as he gazed at her, and for the first time in eons, the guardian hesitated. "You speak with great wisdom, Apsara, but the tear has tasted the depths of sorrow. It will not leave this place willingly."
Without a word, Shanta knelt beside the shimmering pool and touched the tear gently. As her fingers brushed its surface, she closed her eyes and began to sing. Her voice, soft as the breeze, carried the melody of forgotten peace and the promise of renewal. The tear trembled, and its glow slowly began to brighten, responding to the purity of her song.
Kala watched in awe as the tear, once heavy with sorrow, lifted itself from the pool and floated toward Shanta, glowing brighter and brighter. She cradled it in her hands, and the cave filled with a radiant light that banished the shadows.
With the tear in her possession, Shanta turned to Kala. "You were never meant to guard sorrow, ancient one," she said gently. "Now, be at peace."
Kala, his form now fading, bowed his head in acknowledgment, and with a final sigh, he disappeared into the mist.

Bathed in sunbeams, a woman in costume stands strong in the forest, her sword and shield ready for action. The rays of light shine through the trees, casting a magical glow on her warrior spirit.
Shanta ascended back to the heavens, the tear of the moon cradled carefully in her hands. Upon her return, the gods rejoiced. She placed the
Chandratara back within the heart of the moon, and immediately, its light returned, pure and serene. The storms ceased, the stars once again shone brightly, and the rivers flowed clear and calm.
Indra, moved by Shanta's wisdom and perseverance, declared that her name would forever be remembered among the stars, a symbol of peace and the quiet strength that restores balance to the world.
And so, the myth of Shanta and the Lost Tear of the Moon became a tale passed down through the ages, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, serenity and wisdom can guide us to restore the harmony that is lost.