SRISTI ISWARA MAHARAJ
Sati went 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.It had an extraordinary title - ‘Sristi Iswara Maharaj’, The Lord of all creation itself. Sati loved Sristi Iswara Maharaj.
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.It had an extraordinary title - ‘Sristi Iswara Maharaj’, The Lord of all creation itself. Sati loved Sristi Iswara Maharaj.
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