Shatasringa

Arjun's POV

"Hmm?" 

I whirled around amidst the crowd with a scrunched forehead, discerning the source of the inconclusive voice, which rather appeared to be heard from the dark trees surrounding the path. My eyes scurried up to the sky, the stars, the rustling leaves of the trees, towards the people behind me in confusion.

"Hail Mahadev! Hail Mahadev!"

"Hail the destroyer of foes!"

Who, who called for me like that? 

Someone did, someone did. My ears didn't or can't betray me. Betray me like that, I heard it. It wasn't the voice I was used to hear, but still it appeared it was. I was accustomed to the voice yet it appeared distant.

"Hail Mahadev!"

"Repeat the name of the Lord!"

Sh-should I go? For once?

"Arjun..."

Ag-again?

I bit my lips in apprehension, preparing to distance myself from the crowd and check, only to return back swiftly and join the Yatra. I squinted my eyes to focus from amidst the throng, dashing my orbs here and there, not realizing that I had already begun to drift from where I was halting.

My breath hitched, as I crept out of the narrow passages available to follow, follow where? I don't know. I don't have any idea but I just knew that I had to follow it. 

Follow it.

That voice, that voice. I heard it somewhere.

But where? Where?

Something similar, yes something close to this I had heard. When I was once asleep, oh yes while sleeping. I, I was used to hearing it while I was asleep, but why am I hearing it wide awake? That too this time? 

This, this ain't the time I was supposed to hear it..

I haven't fallen asleep yet, You should've called for me after I had shut my eyes firmly. I,I am not used to Your voice when awake...

"Bhrata Arjun! Bhrata?!"

"Bhrata Arjun!"

The sharp voice of Nakul snapped me out of the supposed trance I was in, as I glanced around frantically striving to realize what I was doing. I spun around towards the crowd only to spot the figure of the twins who were sitting on Bhrata Bheem's shoulders waving at me and requesting me to join back.

But what was I attempting to?

 I shook my head and took to my heels after discarding any possible thoughts, joining the throng.

Maybe it was my mind was just, just wavered. 

I stealthily sneaked back inside the throng at the right moment, just as the Yatra was about to begin. "Arjun, where had you disappeared for God's sake?" I was nudged instantly with those hushes from my brothers and parents, but I shrugged it off with a sheepish smile, stating it as a matter of divertissement. 

The Yatra began with immense pomp and show, the atmosphere thick with the chants of the Lord of Destruction; or rather the Lord who paves way for the new creation. I had overcame the wavering trance like state, or that is what it felt like, keeping up with the constant march towards the other side of the hill.

The impeccable temple of Lord Shiv stood in its all glory, it being under the vigilance of the residents of Shatasringa since ages. Every year on this occasion the doorstep of the temple witnesses countless devotees who offer their orisons. 

"Stay close, sons." Maata Kunti and Maadri let out their hushed instructions, as we five stood huddled with each other, "And no, no mischief." Pitashree led the way, it wasn't really novel to us. The residents of this pious mountain always made way to us first, nevertheless any circumstances. 

We were somehow glanced upon with eyes of respect wherever we chose to rest. Whispers and claims that we will accomplish exemplary deeds, urges to have a glimpse of us. Strange, does only being the sons of the Gods claim so much esteem from everyone?

Without even accomplishing an extraordinary feat close to them? 

We bowed down to the priests who were occupied in their duties and stepped in the temple, prepared to offer our obeisance. Jyesth knelt down first, brought his palms together and bathed the ShivLingam with milk and furnished it with a  Bel leaf and the fruit of Dhatura, followed by Bhrata Bheem. 

Both of them left the narrow passage with content on their faces, as Maata knelt near the Lingam and gestured me to follow as I stood with the twins and Pita. 

At last. 

I don't know why but my heart never feels contented, it urges to repeatedly flock here and offer my obeisance repeatedly, day and night. As if, as if my soul always had an inclination to do the same. Pouring milk, offering Bel, my palms appear to have been embedded their textures. 

My lips articulated in a smile as I crouched, and hitting the cold floor with my knees, slightly dampening the cloth near my knees due its moistness. And there it was.

Calm, restless, tranquil yet on the tenterhooks. Contrasting emotions swept over my entire self as my forehead brushed against the cool edge of the Lingam. Why, why does it feel every time that my soul always belonged to Him?

Again, again and again, why that glimpses of the unknown thread that binds me to Him mysteriously? 

My eyebrows knitted up inadvertently as I accepted the clay pot with milk, my palm resting on the body of the Lingam as I shut my eyes firm, allowing the milk to cascade down through it and greet my senses with it's cool texture. I brushed my fingers subtly along the Lingam, washing it with the unpigmented liquid, drawing in deep breaths. 

Two hands, visibly larger than mine did the same activity, performed the veneration and was brushing his palms on the Lingam. But the milk was pouring on its own?

No, not on its own.

Someone was pouring it above from the Lingam, another figure. Yes, another pair of paws which held a clay pot just above the Lingam, pouring the milk as his hands delicately washed the ShivLingam with extreme devotion and love. His hands felt like mine, no they were larger, but it felt like mine for some reason.

But, but what about the other pair of hands? Who?

Who, who was doing Mahadev's veneration along with him-I mean me? Or am I being insolent enough to consider that those were my hands? 

"Arjun?" I was snapped out of the queer visionary trance I was thrown into without any prior warnings, as I glanced confusedly at my mother, who appeared equally apprehensive, but just chose to shove my shoulder and hand me over the Bel leaves which I swiftly placed over the tip of the Lingam.

What was that, what did I see?

I-is my mind playing tricks?

I sat there still and unmoved, my paws encircling around the fabric of my dhoti, not willing to discard my seat from here; or rather I felt paralyzed on spot. 

"Arjun..."

**********

A/N

What did Arjun just see? 👀👀

Signing off for today~

Kiritija Nushkie