High in the mystic mountains, where clouds wrapped the world in a silver hush, the great sage Rishiraj arrived at a place untouched by time. Mist coiled around ancient stones, and at the heart of it all lay a tranquil lake, its waters like polished crystal. Clusters of blue flowers swayed at its edge, mirroring the shifting skies above.
There, in a secluded corner, the air itself seemed sacred — a place where silence was devotion. Rishiraj felt a shiver pass through him, not from cold, but from something divine. It was here that Lord Rudra, the great Mahadev, meditated — seated in stillness on a slab of icy stone, draped in a tiger skin, his mind deeper than the cosmos.
Around him, celestial beings wandered like intoxicated mystics, consumed by bliss. These were no ordinary devotees — they were seers, sages, and beings from realms beyond the stars, drawn by the Lord's presence. Among them, one stood apart: Mother Sati, his consort, radiant and serene, her heart wholly devoted.
Raising her hands in reverence, he sang:
Tasmai namah param kāraṇa kāraṇāya dīptojjvalajvalita pingalalochanāya
Nāgendrahārakr̥ta kuṇḍalabhūṣaṇāya brahmendra viṣṇu varadāya namaḥ śivāya."
"Salutations to the One,
Cause of all causes,
Whose eyes blaze like golden fire,
Adorned with serpents and celestial grace,
Giver of boons to gods —
Salutations to Shiva."
Mahadev opened his eyes. The stillness trembled. He smiled at Rishiraj and blessed him, but a shadow passed through his gaze. He knew what was coming. Destiny was already in motion.
At that moment, Sati approached him, her smile sweet, her heart light. But how could he tell her? That her father, Daksha, was holding a grand yajna — a divine ritual — and had purposefully excluded them? That without Shiva, the ritual was hollow? That pride had blinded her father?
Soon, Rishiraj spoke. "Mother, you and the Lord must not go to your father's house."
Sati's expression changed. "It is not easy to visit one's parents after marriage. If I go uninvited, it may bring dishonor to my Lord."
"But all your sisters and their husbands are already there," the sage replied gently.
Sati's eyes filled with tears — a mix of hurt and disbelief. Her heart burned with curiosity. Rishiraj continued, "Your father has begun the yajna. Look — the smoke has begun to rise."
Still, she could not believe her father could act so cruelly. To calm her restless mind, she offered Rishiraj food and sat in silence before her deity. Rishiraj, his message delivered, departed.
Then Sati closed her eyes and meditated. In her inner vision, the truth was revealed: a grand fire, sacred chants, offerings — and her father, presiding over it all. But among the many honored gods, her husband's name was missing.
When she opened her eyes, they were wet with sorrow. Her beloved, the eternal Shiva, had been insulted — denied, dishonored. She decided she must confront her father and guide him back to righteousness.
But she could not go without Shiva's permission.
When she told him, he smiled gently. "Why should I be angry with your father?"
"Please," she pleaded. "Let me go. I haven't been to my childhood home in so long. Today, I feel a deep longing."
Shiva knew. The time for separation had come. He gave his blessing — with one condition. "You may go. But ride like a queen, dressed in royal splendor."
So Sati adorned herself and departed in full regalia, accompanied by Shiva's celestial attendants. They left her at her father's palace gates, and she blessed them all in farewell.
As Sati stepped into the halls of her childhood, memories blossomed. Her sisters came to greet her, along with her mother, who gazed upon her daughter — but also saw the divine, half of Shiva himself, in her eyes.
Smiling softly, Sati answered their questions, then turned and walked toward the yajna.
There, amid the sacred fire and divine gathering, she saw the truth: seats for every god — except for Shiva. Her father, King Daksha, rose at her approach. She bowed before him.
He laughed.
"You? The wife of that ash-smeared beggar? Have you come uninvited to my sacred rite?"
Sati stood silent as insults poured from her father's mouth. But when he mocked Shiva again, she spoke:
"You speak of my Lord — the one from whom creation flows — as if he were a mere man. He is the soul of the universe. Invite him, and he will bless your yajna."
But Daksha's heart was stone. He laughed louder and hurled greater insults.
Sati's heart shattered. She could bear no more.
"I cannot bear the dishonor of my husband. I do not belong in a world where his name is defiled."
And with that, she walked into the sacred fire and gave up her life.
The sky seemed to still. The gods stood frozen. Her sisters wept in horror. Her mother screamed in silence. The flames embraced her — not with destruction, but with dignity.
Far away, on Kailash, Shiva stirred.
He rose.
From his breath came a wind so hot it scorched the mountaintops. The earth quaked. The skies roared. Creation itself seemed to tremble.
Was this the beginning of the end?