Drinking water was a passion with Him, it was almost a ritual, a prayer

Before dawn, sometime during a winter month, while most of the world lay asleep, a young ascetic was walking briskly through a forest. It had become a habit with the young Rudra to start his day like that, without waiting for the sun . His pace was brisk, yet steadfast, the gait graceful, yet determined. He looked straight ahead, yet was aware of all His surroundings.
And he thought of nothing, yet his mind was full of God.
Today, was special, He was headed for Kailash.
He had been walking continuously for hours ,when he felt the scorching heat of the noon sun who had by now risen to burn bright in His own trait. It was directly overhead Rudra, who was unmindful of the fact that he had already left the forest behind . He was now at the foothills of the sparsely inhabited and somewhat arid flatlands preceding the mountains.
Rudra suddenly realized that he was thirsty. Now, with the God saturated mind allowing the normal, worldly senses to loyally return to Him, he heard the sound of water.
It was a stream flowing nearby gurgling loudly as though in chant of an old beloved.
Rudra smiled in resonance. He marvelled at the ways of Nature, how things appeared just when you needed them most. The ways that were weaved in an ingenius manner, like a magic matrix.
Drinking water was a passion with Him, it was almost a ritual, a prayer, Rudra drank long, like one who being one with the ocean, could drink it all and merge it in His self.

{Excerpt from Forthcoming book SHIVA by Shail Gulhati: Shiva and Mysticism.)