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.
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.