Once upon a time, so long ago, at a period when 'good and devoted' Human beings could easily see and have a conversation with God, there was a mighty ruler called Prithiviraj the III, who ruled a vast kingdom stretching from the Arabian country, the Indian Subcontinent to the far east till China and Singapore. The kingdom and its people lived in prosperity. Prithiviraj was a just and intelligent king and a intrinsically generous man too. Culture and traditions were followed. He rewarded people who did anything out of the ordinary - even when courtiers gave ideas or sang songs of praise. The people loved him. A centralised administration was followed. It was truly a golden age where every field excelled exponentially.
Prithiviraj was a determined king who wanted to conquer the whole world. He could have crossed the Mediterranean sea and triumphed over the Europa country. But all of a sudden, the King fell seriously ill. He was bed-ridden. The whole kingdom was sad and prayed and conducted poojas and did everything they could so that their King would rise again. Doctors were called and treatments were given. But in vain. The King did not show any perceptible signs of recovery but he was still alive.
Meanwhile, there was a young villager in the kingdom, called Arnav, who was an ardent devotee of the Almighty. He lived a simple life and had ideal qualities that defined him. He always thought of the God and wrote songs about Him, drew pictures of Him. He too heard the news of the King's illness. Arnav was struck with grief because he adored the king. Who didn't??!! He prayed to the God, desperately to save the King and revive him back. That night, the God appeared in Arnav's dream. He told Arnav not to worry and just simply told that the King would be back on his feet soon in Arnav's expense. When Arnav woke up in the morning, he remembered the dream and smiled to himself and thanked the God. As he went inside the worship room to offer his morning prayers, after finishing the morning 'work and calls', he was startled.