Hi Guys. This is the first part of a series about Lord Shiva that I’m starting. If you like it and want me to continue it; please like, comment and follow my blog.
At one side of the world Rudra opened his eyes; all of them. He didn’t know how long he had been walking in the heavy rainfall. There was snow all around him that came up to his knees. He should’ve felt cold but didn’t. He should’ve frozen solid but didn’t. He should’ve never walked out of home in this storm but he did. There were many things that should’ve happened but hadn’t. Something else had to happen that night.
Rudra couldn’t remember anything of the last few hours except the sudden urge. The sudden urge to get out of the house and go. But not anywhere.
Rudra stood to catch his breath. He had been running all along he realized. With his hand on the bark of a tree he raised his gaze slowly from the ground. Beyond the foliage, he could see the silhouette of his destination. Letting his eyes drift further upwards he looked at the proud Devdars, some of which had been standing there for more than his lifetime.
Even they looked confused. What was a human doing in a place where even the gods didn’t dare to come? The leaves rustled and flew away in the extreme wind that the storm brought with it.
For some reason the mighty trees didn’t resist. There was a strange aura of familiarity around him. It was like they knew him; like they had felt this hand before. As if this sensation, the mark of his hand had been passed down through the generations of the Devdars before them. After all they were Devdar – the wood of the gods.
Suddenly his vision went blue. For a split second all he saw was blue. He almost toppled down the cliff he had been climbing for the past four hours. After two painfully confusing seconds his vision came back to the blurry torrents of water pouring down on him. He wanted to cry, he wanted to fall down; but the urge, the hunger didn’t let him. A voice kept reverberating in his head.
I have to reach there. She is waiting.
He jerked forward from the support of the tree, balancing his body as best as he could. He didn’t know why he was walking and where he was walking to; just that he had to. After walking for another couple of hours in minus fifteen degree Centigrade he collapsed and came down on his knees. This time when he raised his eyes he could see where he had come. Or dare he say been brought to. Amidst a galore of relatively small mountains a giant peak rose to the sky. It was snow clad to every last stone, so much so that it looked made of ice. The chilling wind bothered his eyes, but not as much as it should have. He looked at the abode of the greatest god four millenniums of Hindu scripture had seen.
He had always wanted to come here but his father had never let him. It’s very dangerous. He had said every time he asked, “No one can climb it my son. Not even you.”
And then his mother’s mocking but devotional sound would chirp from the kitchen, “No one can climb the Kailash my son. There is only one who can.”
There is only one who can. The sound of his mother kept humming in his mind. It was the last thing he heard before he fainted.