Sati announced Her intention to
go every morning to worship the ancient Shivlinga in the royal forest reserves.
The Shivlinga was so old that no one knew its history, not even Daksha or the
noble ministers of the court, nor too the sages who were rumoured to have
meditated in the mountains long before the city of Daksha had come into full
being.
But the Shivlinga was there, in its monumental presence.
An enormous and beautifully carved out marvel, in mystic grey granite. All around it was the lush green of the forest, and the contrast of grey and green gave it a yet greater mystic feel.
A snake or two were always seen cuddled around it, as though to assert that they were a permanent part of Shiva.
Flowers strung together as garlands, put on the Shivlinga by worshippers, were undoubtedly more transient than the snakes, but nevertheless lay alongside in devotion.
It was common for Shivlingas to have a name. Usually the devotee of Shiva who had constructed a Shivlinga would name it by adding the suffix of Ishwara to his own name, thus acknowledging Shiva’s supremacy and also immortalizing himself, in the bargain.
Almost all the devatas had ritually made a Shivlinga. So there were Indreshwara, Varuneshwara, Agnieshwara Shivlingas.
They were magical and purported to be standing in the winds, fire and the celestial sky itself.
They formed the earliest places of Shiva worship, much before the Jyotirlingas that would become popular in later times.
But this, the colossal forest Shivlinga, grounded as it was, had a magnetism to it, which none could compare. True to its enigma,
it was unnamed. No devata was even born before it existed; so who would name it?
But it did have an extraordinary title - ‘Sristi Iswara Maharaj’,
The Lord of all creation itself.
But the Shivlinga was there, in its monumental presence.
An enormous and beautifully carved out marvel, in mystic grey granite. All around it was the lush green of the forest, and the contrast of grey and green gave it a yet greater mystic feel.
A snake or two were always seen cuddled around it, as though to assert that they were a permanent part of Shiva.
Flowers strung together as garlands, put on the Shivlinga by worshippers, were undoubtedly more transient than the snakes, but nevertheless lay alongside in devotion.
It was common for Shivlingas to have a name. Usually the devotee of Shiva who had constructed a Shivlinga would name it by adding the suffix of Ishwara to his own name, thus acknowledging Shiva’s supremacy and also immortalizing himself, in the bargain.
Almost all the devatas had ritually made a Shivlinga. So there were Indreshwara, Varuneshwara, Agnieshwara Shivlingas.
They were magical and purported to be standing in the winds, fire and the celestial sky itself.
They formed the earliest places of Shiva worship, much before the Jyotirlingas that would become popular in later times.
But this, the colossal forest Shivlinga, grounded as it was, had a magnetism to it, which none could compare. True to its enigma,
it was unnamed. No devata was even born before it existed; so who would name it?
But it did have an extraordinary title - ‘Sristi Iswara Maharaj’,
The Lord of all creation itself.
Sati loved Sristi Iswara Maharaj. Whenever She approached the forest, She felt Her feet breaking into a run; She could never just walk. In the forest, She thought She clearly heard the leaves rustling into a chorus of invitation, singing ‘Sristi Iswara Maharaj’.
She thought that they sang to Shiva, but in Her haste to get to Sristi Iswara, what She did not notice was that the leaves were actually bowing in Her direction when She ran deep into their midst.
This became a daily ritual: She would not stop running till She reached the enigmatic Shivlinga, Her heart beating and the leaves pulsating with Her run till she arrived at the Sristi Iswara.
Faster each day was the run and the pace of life, faster this divine heartbeat, the mystic crescendo that had become all -encompassing. So fast, that She would almost fall in sweet collapse at the Shivlinga.
And then She would remain there in bliss, for hours on end, day after each passing day. Till the days turned into months and the months into a year. Her entire life itself had become an offering, Her time a rosary count.
And then, one day, Shiva appeared.
~ From the book ~ SHIVA, The Ultimate Time Traveller.
by Shail Gulhati Available on Amazon as an E book
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B017ECI6CU
and for INDIA exclusively:
https://www.amazon.in/dp/B017ECI6CU
Art: Rajeshwar Nyalapalli
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