If ASURAS Wrote the PURANAS: The Untold Mythology

What If History Wasn't What You Thought?
Imagine waking up to a world where everything you’ve been told about good and evil is reversed. The stories you grew up with, the heroes you worshipped, the villains you feared—what if they were all just a matter of perspective? What if the Asuras, long vilified in Hindu mythology, had written their own scriptures? Would the Devas still be the divine saviors, or would the Asuras emerge as the misunderstood underdogs of an ancient cosmic struggle? What If History Wasn't What You Thought?



The Puranas, a vast collection of Hindu scriptures, serve as the chronicles of creation, cosmic events, divine interventions, and dharmic lessons. Traditionally attributed to Sage Vyasa, these texts weave together myths, legends, and genealogies that define the Hindu worldview. Written between 300 BCE and 1500 CE, the Puranas glorify the Devas (gods), portraying them as upholders of dharma while Asuras (demons) are cast as chaotic forces that threaten cosmic balance. These texts emphasize battles where the Devas, led by Indra, Vishnu, or Shiva, emerge victorious, often through divine intervention or trickery.

But what if the Asuras had their own version of the Puranas? What if their perspective, their victories, their losses, and their philosophies were documented? Would the gods still be heroes, or would the Asuras rise as misunderstood revolutionaries? This is an imaginative retelling—a parallel mythology where Asuras penned their own scriptures, revealing a different side of history.


Had the Asuras chronicled history, the narrative would shift drastically. Instead of treacherous demons, the Asuras would be painted as pioneers of knowledge, warriors of independence, and victims of divine propaganda. Their scriptures, let’s call them the Asura Puranas, would unfold a tale of betrayal, resilience, and lost legacies.

The traditional Puranas speak of Brahma creating the universe, with Devas and Asuras emerging from his breath—the Devas from his exhalation (representing light) and Asuras from his inhalation (representing darkness). But in the Asura Puranas, creation is seen as a moment of harmony where Devas and Asuras were once equals, both meant to govern different aspects of existence. The rift begins not because Asuras are evil, but because the Devas, intoxicated by their celestial privileges, refuse to share power.
According to Asura scripture, the cosmic order was disrupted when the Devas, under Indra’s rule, began hoarding Amrita (the nectar of immortality) during the Samudra Manthan (Churning of the Ocean). The Asuras, who labored equally in the churning, were tricked by Vishnu, who disguised himself as Mohini and stole their rightful share. This moment is described as the First Betrayal—a divine conspiracy to establish Deva supremacy.


In the Deva-centric Ramayana, Ravana is an arrogant and egotistical demon-king who abducts Sita and faces his downfall at the hands of Lord Rama. But the Asura Puranas paint him differently—a devoted Shiva worshipper, a scholar of immense wisdom, and a king who opposed the oppressive rule of the Devas.
In the Asura scriptures, Ravana’s abduction of Sita is not an act of lust but a political move against a divine dynasty that sought to subjugate the Asuras. Lanka, under Ravana, was not a land of sin but a thriving civilization of intellectuals, artists, and warriors. The text might argue that Ravana did not kidnap Sita out of desire but to challenge Rama’s moral authority—a statement against the hypocrisy of gods who preached dharma while engaging in deception and war.


In the Deva Puranas, Mahishasura is the dreaded buffalo-demon defeated by Goddess Durga. But in the Asura Puranas, he is a revolutionary leader who refused to bow to Indra’s throne. He sought sovereignty for Asuras, challenging the forced dominance of the heavens.
The battle between Durga and Mahishasura, according to Asura texts, was not just a fight of good vs. evil but a war of survival. Mahishasura was not a monster but a ruler fighting against oppression. Durga, powerful and divine, was still a warrior sent by the gods to eliminate an uprising against celestial authority. His defeat was not a celebration but a tragedy—a silencing of the voice that dared to rise.

The Deva Puranas often state that Asuras are adharmic (unrighteous), driven by ego and destruction. But if the Asuras wrote their own scriptures, dharma would take a different shape. Their philosophy would emphasize equality over hierarchy, knowledge over blind faith, and free will over divine decree.

According to the Asura Puranas, the Devas established a singular narrative where their actions—no matter how questionable—were justified under the guise of dharma. Whether it was Indra’s paranoia-driven wars, Krishna’s strategic deceit, or Shiva’s annihilation of Asura leaders, the Asuras would argue that history was shaped by divine control rather than moral truth.

Instead of bowing to celestial kingship, the Asura dharma would advocate for meritocracy—where rulers and gods are questioned, knowledge is pursued without restrictions, and power is earned rather than inherited.



The great irony is that we will never truly know if Asuras had their own Puranas. What if their knowledge was erased, their libraries burned, their stories buried under layers of divine narratives?

Perhaps the Asura Puranas existed in oral traditions, passed down through secret gatherings, only to fade with time. Maybe they were lost in wars where Asura civilizations crumbled under divine conquests. Or perhaps the Asura truth was deliberately silenced, labeled as heresy so that only the Deva-centered history remained.

But if one listens closely—beyond the scriptures, beyond the hymns, beyond the sanctioned myths—one might still hear whispers of a forgotten past. A past where Asuras were not demons but seekers of a different truth. A past where they, too, had stories worth telling.

History is always written by the victors, and mythology is no exception. The Puranas we read today are filled with divine heroism, but in an alternate reality, an Asura Purana could have presented an entirely different epic—one where the Asuras were not the villains but the heroes of their own fate.

In the end, the Asuras' version of the Puranas is not just an imaginary exercise but a reflection on how perspectives shape truth. Perhaps the real question is: Who gets to define righteousness, and who decides what stories are worth remembering?