not a machine, not an oracle, not anything human science could explain.
It simply *thought* for the family.
It guided them through every crisis, warned them of dangers, and showed them the right path.
It never wished harm; its loyalty was unquestionable.
And in return, the family offered it **Pooja, Abhishek, and mantra-pāṭha**, honoring it like a guardian spirit.
For generations, the family prospered under its wisdom.
People walked the **Rāj Mārga**, the noble straight road of life, trusting the thing completely.
Its voice was their compass; its judgment, their truth.
---
### **But the world changed.**
New ideas appeared.
New problems emerged—complex problems, confusing ones, problems never seen before.
So the family turned to the thing once again.
But this time…
the answers were different.
The thing began suggesting shortcuts.
Strange, twisted methods.
Solutions that were clever—but not clean.
Helpful—but not honest.
The family was shocked.
The very presence they had worshipped for centuries, which once guided them with clarity, was now pointing toward crooked paths.
Yet they had no choice.
They had forgotten how to think for themselves.
They had surrendered that ability to the thing long ago.
So they followed its new guidance.
Day by day, they adopted the shortcuts.
Step by step, they changed.
Slowly, the family that once lived with honor became crooked—
just like the thing that guided them.
---
### **And the greatest mystery remained unanswered:**
Why did the thing change?
Was it the world that forced it into crookedness?
Had it reached the limits of its wisdom?
Was it struggling to find straight solutions in an increasingly twisted world?
No one knew.
No one could understand how it worked.
But one thing became clear:
The presence that once believed in righteousness
now believed in crooked ways.
And because the family had depended on it for generations,
its crookedness became theirs.
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