The golden cages of Lanka’s pleasure halls swayed in the evening breeze, their bars thick with the musk of crushed flowers and desperation. The demon women peered through the latticework, their eyes glinting like knives in the lamplight. "Not this one," they murmured as Sita passed, her bare feet leaving faint imprints in the dust. "See how she sleeps? Like a child. Like a fool."
But the Ashoka grove was no kinder. Here, the trees bore thorns instead of fruit, and the rakshasis circled like jackals, their laughter sharp enough to draw blood. "How long will you cling to virtue?" they sneered. "Your Rama has forgotten you."
Sita said nothing. She sat as still as a carved idol, her silence a fortress no taunt could breach.
Ravana’s Threats, A Wife’s Defiance
Ravana came at dusk, his shadow stretching long across the grove. Ten heads tilted in mock sympathy, twenty eyes gleaming with hunger. "Gold or gallows—choose your fate," he rumbled, his voice thick with honeyed venom. "Bow, and I will drape you in jewels. Refuse, and the vultures will feast."
Sita did not look up. When she spoke, her words were quiet, but they carried the weight of a coming storm. "My lord will incinerate your lying tongue and rotting halls. Leave now, lest Rama’s arrow finds your throat before its time."
The demon king’s laughter shook the leaves from the trees. But when he turned to go, his golden bracelets trembled—ever so slightly—against his wrists.
The Ring, The Fire, The Architect’s Hand
Hanuman came like a shadow given form. He knelt before her, pressing Rama’s ring into her palm—the metal still warm from his grip. "He waits," the monkey whispered. "He grieves. And he will come."
Sita’s fingers closed around the jewel, her first tear striking the gold like a benediction.
Then—chaos.
Hanuman’s tail, dipped in oil and set ablaze, became a whip of divine fury. He leapt from roof to roof, the fire trailing behind him like a comet’s tail. Lanka’s towers, built by demons and arrogance, caught like tinder. The city burned, not with the rage of an invader, but with the precision of an architect dismantling his creation.
And as the sun rose over the smoldering ruins, a single figure stood untouched amid the flames—
Sita, her face lit by the glow of a husband’s promise.
Dasharatha lost his composure on hearing Vishvamitra's words and cried, "O great sage! My lotus-eyed Rama isn't even 16 years of age." The king volunteered to accompany the sage instead, along with his army. He implored the great sage to tell him about the Rakshasas, their strength and their protector.
Vishvamitra told Dasharatha about Ravana, the powerful lord of the Rakshasas, and how he had urged Maricha and Subahu to obstruct the sages and their sacrifices.
The king, overwhelmed by grief for his son's life, begged the sage to reconsider. "The enemies you describe are fierce and skilled, and Rama is a child," he said. Maricha and Subahu were impossible to defeat, he said. Even he, as the king of Ayodhya with the might of his army, would only be able to battle one demon at a time. "I cannot give Rama to you," he said.
Vishvamitra looked at the king who had, but a short while ago, pledged to give him whatever he had wanted. Anger laced his words as the sage reminded the king that he came from the exalted Ikshvaku lineage.
"You are like the god of dharma yourself. If you break your pledge, you will destroy the fruits of all the sacrifices that were performed in the past. So, do not resort to adharma," he thundered.
So intense was Vishvamitra's rage that the earth shook and the gods trembled. Sage Vasishtha quickly intervened and convinced Dasharatha that Vishvamitra was an ideal guardian and would protect Rama. The king finally acceded to the sages' wishes.
The brothers set forth
As Rama and Lakshmana left Ayodhya, flowers rained down from heaven. They walked half a yojana (about 6.5 km or 4 miles), until they reached the southern banks of the River Sarayu.
Vishvamitra asked them to touch water from the river and receive the divine powers, Bala and Atibala. With this, he said, Rama would not face hunger or thirst and would have incomparable strength.
The next morning, they walked to the confluence of the rivers Ganga and Sarayu, where they came upon Anga. home to a group of fierce sages who were disciples of Shiva, the god of Destruction. The princes and Vishvamitra decided they would spend the night here.
Pleased with the news Hanuman brought him, Rama embraced the Vanara, and the vast and powerful Vanara army marched to the ocean shore. Yet, the young, exiled prince of Ayodhya could not help but grieve for his beloved.
Rama spoke to Hanuman with great affection, "I cannot imagine anyone doing what you have done, except perhaps for Garuda, the king of birds. Who else could have entered that invincible city and returned alive and successful? Yet, I worry. How could we possibly go to where Sita is? How will this army cross the immense ocean?"
Keeping hope
Sugriva replied, "Mighty Rama, abandon this sorrow, for which I see no cause. You have strength, perseverance.
UNCHARTED WATERS
The painstaking search for Sita led the Vanaras to the southern ocean. Now, all that stood between Rama's army and Lanka was the vast and turbulent ocean a firm knowledge of the scriptures, and are endowed with intellect. I am certain that we shall cross the ocean. These warriors are full of enthusiasm to do your bidding and act for your sake. Your might will bring down the enemy and you will return to Ayodhya with Sita. "With allies like me, you will be victorious. Who among the beings in the three worlds could possibly stand before you when your bow is raised in battle? You will soon see Sita. Abandon sorrow and arouse your righteous anger. Your victory is certain!"
A decisive plan
Sugriva's words comforted Rama, and he turned to Hanuman and said, "We are capable of crossing this vast ocean either by drying its waters or building a bridge. Tell me, how is Ravana's fortress protected?" The Vanara described Lanka's prosperity and fortifications, and said, "It is a fearsome fortress, difficult to vanquish, even for the gods. It is on the far end of the ocean, but you cannot navigate the waters near Lanka. It's on top of a mighty mountain. Large battalions guard the four gates, and there are millions of them in the centre. However, I broke the bridges, filled the moat, burnt the city, and destroyed the gates."
They did not need the entire army, Hanuman told Rama, as Angada, the crown prince, the Vanaras Dvivida, Mainda, and Nila, and Jambavan, the king of bears, were more than enough.
The instructions
Rama replied, "Lanka will be destroyed, Hanuman." He turned to Sugriva and spoke. "This is the right time to march to Lanka. The astronomical configurations are favorable for victory, and the sun is in the optimal position.
Tomorrow, it will shift.
Auspicious omens are appearing, and I know that I shall kill Ravana and be reunited with Sita."
Rama then turned to the army and gave instructions. He said, "Nila, go to the head of the army and lead it through a route that has plenty to eat. Gaja, Gavaya, and Gavaksha, go to the front, and I will be in the middle, riding on Hanuman, with Lakshmana on Angada."
- The conflict was rooted in the long-standing territorial dispute over
Kashmir, which has been a flashpoint between India and Pakistan since their
independence in 1947.
- In early 1999, Pakistani soldiers and militants infiltrated into the
Indian side of the LoC, occupying strategic high-altitude positions in the
Kargil region. Pakistan initially denied involvement, claiming the infiltrators
were Kashmiri militants, but evidence later revealed the participation of
Pakistani troops.
Key Events:
- The Indian Army discovered the infiltration in May 1999 and launched
**Operation Vijay** to evict the intruders.
- The war was fought in harsh, high-altitude terrain, making it one of
the most challenging military campaigns in modern history.
- India mobilized significant military resources, including air power
(**Operation Safed Sagar**), to dislodge the Pakistani forces.
- Intense fighting occurred in key locations such as Tololing, Tiger
Hill, and Point 4875 (later renamed **Gun Hill** in honor of Captain Vikram
Batra, a war hero).
International Involvement:
- The international community, including the United States, pressured
Pakistan to withdraw its forces, as the conflict raised fears of a potential
nuclear escalation between the two nations.
- Pakistan eventually withdrew its troops under international pressure,
and India regained control of the occupied positions by late July 1999.
Aftermath:
- The war resulted in significant casualties on both sides, with India
officially reporting around 500 soldiers killed and Pakistan's casualties
estimated to be higher.
- The conflict further strained India-Pakistan relations and highlighted
the risks of nuclear confrontation in South Asia.
- In India, the Kargil War is remembered as a symbol of national pride,
with the bravery of soldiers celebrated annually on **Kargil Vijay Diwas**
(July 26).
The Kargil War remains a significant event in the history of
India-Pakistan relations, underscoring the ongoing tensions over Kashmir and
the fragility of peace in the region.
"Kargil: A Symphony of
Sacrifice"
Kargil, O Kargil, your name echoes far,
A sentinel of mountains, where the brave are.
On ridges high, where the cold winds scream,
Heroes stood firm, defending a dream.
With hunger-gnawing, and frostbitten hands,
They climbed the cliffs and crossed treacherous
lands.
Grenades strapped tightly, they faced the fight,
For Mother India, they embraced the night.
Snow-covered peaks, where the eagles soar,
Witnessed the valour, the thunderous roar.
Through ravines deep, and slopes so steep,
They crawled, they fought, their promise to keep.
They threw away meals, to carry more fire,
Ammunition and courage were their only desire.
Enemy bunkers, built in stealth and deceit,
Were blown to dust, their plans faced defeat.
The tricolour rose, through smoke and pain,
On Tiger Hills, it waved again.
A lesson taught, in blood and pride,
To those who betrayed and chose to divide.
O Kargil, your name, etched in sacred stone,
A hallowed ground, where martyrs are known.
Pilgrims will come, with incense and tears,
To honour the fallen, through countless years.
Their war cry still echoes, in valleys and skies,
A nation’s gratitude, that never dies.
Through biting cold, and the enemy’s snare,
They proved their love, beyond compare.
O Kargil, you kindled a spirit anew,
A flame of patriotism, bold and true.
In every heart, your story is told,
Of courage unyielding, and spirits bold.
Be wary, O foe, for India has risen,
No more shall we fall to treachery’s prison.
The torch of vigilance, we now hold high,
Under the tricolour, we’ll never die.
To the martyrs of Kargil, we bow our heads,
Your sacrifice lives, though you’ve left your beds.
In deserts, plains, or mountains severe,
Your legacy whispers, “We stand firm here.”
Hats off to the brave, the heart-winners true,
You made the nation proud, in all that you do.
Through history’s pages, your names will gleam,
Forever alive, in our hearts and our dream.
Tribute to Leadership
In year 1999, when shadows loomed near,
A leader arose, with a vision clear.
Atal Bihari, with wisdom and might,
Guided the nation through the darkest night.
Operation Vijay, under his steady hand,
Reclaimed the heights, and freed the land.
A nuclear power, he made us stand tall,
A statesman revered, and beloved by all.
His words were a balm, his resolve like
steel,
In peace and in war, he served with zeal.
Through Kargil’s triumph, his legacy grew,
A beacon of hope, for the red, white, and blue.
Kargil,
O Kargil, your name we revere,
A symbol of courage, both far and near.
Your story reminds us, through darkness and strife,
The cost of freedom, the sanctity of life.
Narada,
the celestial sage born from Brahma’s mind, is a devoted messenger of Vishnu,
renowned for his wisdom and wandering nature. He plays a pivotal role in sacred
texts, guiding Vyasa to compose the Puranas and inspiring Valmiki with the tale
of Rama.
When
Valmiki seeks an ideal man, Narada describes Rama: virtuous, mighty, and
radiant as the gods. Later, while meditating by the Tamasa River, Valmiki
witnesses a hunter kill a mating curlew.
A
curlew is a medium-sized or large shorebird and having a bill that is decurved,
or sickle-shaped, curving downward at the tip. Curlews are marked, gray or
brown birds with long necks and long legs.
The
birds devoted themselves to each other, they seemed unaware to the sage. As
they made love, they were so engrossed in each other that they did not notice
the Nishada (hunter) nearby.
As
the great sage looked at the birds, the Nishada struck the male with an arrow.
It fell to the ground, trembling and soaked in its blood. Seeing her dying
mate, the female cried out in pathetic tones. Valmiki saw the struggling bird.
desperate for life and heard the cries of separation of the female.
Shocked
at this cruel interruption of love.
Valmiki,
overwhelmed with grief, reacted with deep compassion and pain.
He
spoke: The first shloka
maa
nishaada pratishtha
tvam/
agamah shashvatech samah//
yat-kraunca-mithunad-ekam/avadhih
kama-mohitam //
("O
Nishada! This couple of curlews was in the throes of passion and you killed one
of them. Therefore, you will possess ill repute for an eternal number of
years.")
Astonished
that he had spoken these words aloud, Valmiki wondered, "What are these
words that I have uttered while overcome with sorrow?"
Grief,
in verse-
Overcome
by grief, Valmiki suddenly utters a rhythmic curse—the first shloka—birthing
Sanskrit poetry. This moment transforms sorrow into art, marking the dawn of
epic storytelling.
When Hanuman crossed the ocean and reached Lanka, some versions of the Ramayana tell of his encounter with the city’s guardian deity. After defeating her, she revealed an ancient prophecy—Brahma had foretold that a vanara would conquer her, signaling doom for the rakshasas. In Krittibas Ojha’s Bengali retelling, the guardian is Chamunda, who had been waiting for Hanuman, as Shiva had told her she could only return home once she met him.
Hanuman, undeterred by his journey, shrank to a tiny form to avoid detection. Lanka’s splendor awed him—golden ramparts, towering palaces, and fierce rakshasa guards. Vishvakarma, the divine architect, had built this fortress, and Hanuman wondered: Even if Rama arrives, how will he breach these walls? But his mission was clear—find Sita.
A City of Illusions
Under the cover of night, Hanuman slipped into Ravana’s palace, where a thousand queens lay in deep slumber. None bore the grief of captivity—none could be Sita. He saw Ravana himself, resplendent on a crystal throne, and Mandodari, his queen, but Sita was nowhere. A flicker of doubt arose: Had Ravana killed her? Had she perished in despair?
For a moment, guilt gnawed at him—Is it wrong to gaze upon these women?—but he reassured himself: My mind is pure; my duty is just. Yet, the fear remained—what if Sita was already lost? The consequences of failure loomed: Rama’s heartbreak, the fall of the Ikshvakus, the ruin of the vanaras. I cannot return empty-handed, he resolved. I will search until I find her—or perish trying.
Divine Guidance
As despair threatened to overtake him, Hanuman entered the Ashoka grove, praying to the gods for success. In Valmiki’s version, he merely glimpsed Vibhishana’s palace, but Tulsidas’s Ramcharitmanas adds a deeper layer—Hanuman noticed signs of Rama’s worship outside Vibhishana’s home. When Vibhishana awoke, murmuring Rama’s name, Hanuman approached. The righteous rakshasa reassured him, guiding him to Sita’s hidden prison.
This moment—where faith meets fate—shows Hanuman’s perseverance and the unseen hand of divine will. His journey through Lanka was not just a search but a test of devotion, wisdom, and unyielding resolve.
The earth split like an overripe fruit, revealing a cavern where time itself seemed to petrify. From the darkness, a voice rose—weathered but regal, the sound of stone remembering it was once flesh. "I waited, Hanuman, for you." The statue’s eyes, long sealed by a curse, crumbled to dust as he approached. "Break these chains," she whispered, "and let the light return." His fingers found the cracks in ancient enchantment, and with a roar, the prison shattered. Sunlight, absent for centuries, flooded the underworld.
Sampathi's Wings, A Brother’s Redemption
The vulture king’s wings were ruins—charred relics of a brother’s failed defiance. But at the name Jatayu, something stirred in the hollow bones. "You knew him?" Hanuman asked, and the crippled creature shuddered. Then, like dawn breaking over a battlefield, understanding came. "Rama!" Sampathi bellowed, and with that cry, the desiccated feathers caught fire—not with flame, but with golden radiance. Muscle and sinew reknit as the sun’s blessing surged through him. Where a broken thing had crouched, now stood a king of the skies once more.
Hanuman’s Leap, A Curse Recalled
The ocean roared its challenge, waves gnashing like teeth. "You once could touch the moon’s high crest," Jambavan murmured, the memory sparking in Hanuman’s blood. The forgotten power awoke—not as a flood, but as a tide returning. One step forward, and the mountain became a pebble beneath him. One breath, and the wind itself held still in expectation. Then—release.
Lanka’s towers, arrogant in their distance, suddenly trembled. Something brighter than their stolen gold was coming. The sea would not be crossed.
The history of the Amarnath cave shrine is rooted in both ancient texts and local traditions. Its earliest mention is found in the Nilamata Purana, a text that describes the religious life of the people of Kashmir. Other references appear in texts such as the Bhrigu Samhita (“Compendium of Bhrigu”), an astrological treatise attributed to the sage Bhrigu, and the Amarnath Mahatmya. The 12th-century chronicle Rajatarangini (Sanskrit: “River of Kings”), by the historian Kalhana, records that Sandimati, a ruler of Kashmir (34–17 BCE), visited the ice lingam.
A reference to the Amarnath cave appears in the 17th-century travelogue Travels in the Mogul Empire by French physician François Bernier. Recounting his 1664 trip with the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb, Bernier described a “grotto full of wonderful congelations”—referring to the ice formations—in the Kashmir mountains, now identified as the Amarnath cave.
Folklore from Kashmir recounts the cave’s discovery by a shepherd named Buta Malik. According to legend, a sage gave Malik a sack of coal, which turned into gold when the shepherd reached home. Malik went back to thank the sage but found only the sacred cave housing the naturally formed ice lingam. He shared his discovery with villagers, transforming the cave into a pilgrimage site.
…
"The same ice that witnessed kings of old Now meets the gaze of pilgrims bold— A thousand years may come and pass, Yet still the lingam holds its glass: Eternal mirror to man's quest, Where past and present merge, then rest."
Amarnath Temple has a limestone cave entrance, measuring approximately 120 feet (36 meters) wide and 75 feet (23 meters) high, sloping down about 80 feet (24 meters) into the mountain. The lingam forms from water droplets that drip from the cave ceiling and then freeze. Because the lingam is made of ice, devotees refer to it as Baba Barfani (Hindi: “Lord of Ice”). Its size gradually increases from May to August and is traditionally believed to wax and wane with the lunar phases, reaching its peak on the full-moon day in the Hindu calendar month of Shravana (July–August). Two smaller ice formations represent Parvati and lord Ganesha.
The Amarnath yatra
Pilgrims make their way along a high-altitude Himalayan trail, devotees trek toward the Amarnath cave during the annual yatra in Jammu and Kashmir.
The most well-known origin story of the Amarnath pilgrimage is found in the Sanskrit text Bringesha Samhita. It recounts how sage Bringesha taught his disciples the significance of the Amarnath cave and guided them to visit the lingam. As the pilgrims faced threats from rakshasas (demons), Bringesha prayed to Shiva, who gifted him a silver mace for protection. This mace—later known as the Chhari Mubarak—has remained central to the yatra, which culminates annually during the Hindu festival of Raksha Bandhan, observed on the full moon of August. The event is marked by a ceremonial procession of the mace to the cave, led by its custodian and accompanied by sadhus (ascetics) and devotees chanting mantras to Shiva—who is often addressed as Bhole—such as “bam bam Bhole” (“Hail Bhole!”).
Pilgrims use two primary routes to the temple: a 28-mile (45-km) trek from Pahalgam or a 9-mile (14-km) route from Baltal. Though the terrain is challenging and the altitude demanding, improvements—such as drivable roads, medical facilities, and, in some years, helicopter services—have made the pilgrimage safer. Horses, ponies, mules, and palanquins are often used by pilgrims to reach the temple. To ensure safety and effective crowd management, all pilgrims have to register with the Shri Amarnath Shrine Board, adhere to safety guidelines, and carry radio-frequency identification (RFID) tags for tracking and security.
After Sugreeva became the king of Kishkindha, he turned
to Rama for guidance. "What should I do now?" he asked. Rama smiled
and advised him to rule wisely, follow the path of justice, and care for his
people. Sugreeva begged Rama to stay in the palace as an honored guest, but
Rama refused. "When the rainy season ends," he said, "bring your
army to help me rescue Sita."
As the monkeys returned to their kingdom, Hanuman wished
to stay with Rama, but Rama gently told him, "Stay with Sugreeva. Guide
him, for a king needs wise counsel." Hanuman obeyed, and Rama and
Lakshmana built a simple hut in the forest.
Soon, the rains poured down, and Rama grew sad. He
thought of Sita, alone and suffering, while he sat sheltered. Lakshmana
comforted him, saying, "We will find her, brother. Stay strong."
Rama, though heartbroken, did not let despair cloud his judgment—unlike Ravana,
who let anger rule him.
When the rains stopped, Rama waited eagerly for
Sugreeva’s army. But days passed, and no one came. "Has Sugreeva forgotten
his promise?" Rama wondered. He sent Lakshmana to Kishkindha with a stern
warning: "If Sugreeva has betrayed us, he must face the
consequences."
Meanwhile, in Kishkindha, Sugreeva had lost himself in
luxury. Surrounded by wine and laughter, he ignored his duties. Prince Angada
saw Lakshmana approaching, furious, and rushed to wake his uncle—but Sugreeva
wouldn’t listen.
Desperate, Angada called for Queen Tara and Hanuman.
Tara, wise and strong, scolded them all. "Have you forgotten Rama’s help?
We gave our word!" Her words shamed the people, and they barred the city
gates, fearing Lakshmana’s wrath.
Hanuman, ever loyal, knew what had to be done. "We
must honor our promise," he told Sugreeva. "Rama saved you—now you
must save Sita."
Realizing his mistake, Sugreeva shook off his laziness.
"Gather the army!" he commanded. "We march for Rama!"
And so, the monkeys prepared for war, remembering that
true kings—and true friends—keep their promises.
Moral:A
wise leader never forgets their duty, and loyalty is the greatest strength of
all.
Rama and Lakshmana stood
with Sugreeva, gazing at a pile of bones scattered near the mountain.
"Whose bones are
these?" Rama asked.
Sugreeva sighed.
"These belong to Dundubi, a fearsome buffalo-shaped demon. He once begged
Lord Vishnu for eternal battle and was sent to fight Vali. They clashed for a
year before Vali defeated him and hurled his body into the sky. But the bones
fell upon this sacred mountain, angering a sage who cursed Vali."
Lakshmana kicked the
bones away, purifying the land. Then Sugreeva hesitated before speaking again.
"Rama, I saw Ravana
carrying Sita away. Here—these are her jewels." He handed Rama a golden
necklace and earrings.
Rama’s hands trembled.
Tears spilled from his eyes as he clutched the ornaments to his heart. Overcome
with grief, he collapsed.
Hanuman and Sugreeva
rushed to his side. "We will find her," Sugreeva
vowed.
Rama’s voice was heavy
with sorrow. "I failed her…"
"But we will
not," Hanuman said firmly. "First, we must defeat Vali so Sugreeva
can reclaim his kingdom. Only then can we gather an army to rescue Sita."
The
Challenge
The group traveled to
Kishkindha, where Sugreeva roared, "Vali! Face me!"
Vali, deep in slumber,
awoke with a growl. His wife, Tara, clutched his arm. "Do not go! Rama
stands with Sugreeva, and his bow is invincible!"
Vali scoffed. "Rama
is noble. He would never strike me unfairly!" Ignoring her plea, he
charged into battle.
Hidden behind rocks,
Rama and Lakshmana watched the two monkey kings clash.
"Brother,"
Lakshmana whispered, "can we trust Sugreeva? Is this fight just?"
Rama hesitated. "We
must keep our word."
The battle raged—fists
like thunder, tails whipping like storms. Bloodied and exhausted, Sugreeva
cried, "Rama, help me!"
"Wear this
vine," Rama instructed, tying a creeper around Sugreeva’s neck. "I
must know it is you."
As Vali lifted Sugreeva
high, Rama drew his bow. Twang! The arrow pierced Vali’s
heart.
Vali’s
Last Words
Vali staggered, gripping
the arrow in shock. "Who... could strike me down?" He pulled the
shaft free and saw Rama’s name engraved upon it.
"Rama?" Vali
gasped. "Why? You are righteous—this act stains your honor!"
Rama stepped forward.
"You tried to kill your own brother. You took his wife. As a king, you
failed justice."
Vali shook his head.
"Our ways are not yours. Among monkeys, this is no crime."
"But you are no
mere beast," Rama said. "You think, you reason—you must uphold
dharma."
Vali’s anger faded. He
bowed his head. "Perhaps... you are right." Turning to Sugreeva, he
whispered, "Rule wisely... and serve Rama well."
With his last breath,
Vali said, "Tell the world... my brother brought my salvation."
Tears streamed down
Sugreeva’s face as Vali’s spirit ascended to the heavens.
Rama placed a hand on
Sugreeva’s shoulder. "Now, we prepare for war. Sita will be
freed."
And so, with Vali gone,
the alliance was sealed—Rama’s quest to rescue Sita had truly begun.
The End.
Moral:Even the mighty must listen to wisdom. True
strength lies in justice, not in power alone.
Altitude: 4,175m (13,700ft).
Darshan Season: July To August
One of the holy Trinity, Shiva, is a living God. The most sacred and the most ancient book of India, the 'Rig Veda" evokes his presence in its hymns. Vedic myths, rituals and even astronomy testify to his existence from the dawn of time. But Shiva, Destroyer, the mendicant, is indefinable.
AMARNATH CAVE
The Yatra (pilgrimage) on foot to Amarnath Cave, considered one of the holiest naturally occurring shrines of the Hindu faith, has continued annually for little more than a hundred years. Extending up 130 feet, the Amarnath Cave is high and shallow.
A Linga Of Ice
Inside the large opening, behind an open-gated iron fence, an underground trickle of water emerges 10 feet up from a small cleft in the sedimentary rock and freezes s it drips to form a small cleft in the sedimentary rock and freezes as it drips to form a tall, smooth cone of ice.
This cone was originally called "the formless form", but it has come to have another symbolism. The ice figure is believed to be a Lings (also spelt as Lingam), a manifestation of the Lord Shiva's phallus. On the full moon of the Sawan month, in July or August, tens of thousands of yatris (also called pilgrims), walk from Pahalgam to view the Ice phallus and make offerings of food, money, sweets, and garlands of flowers before it.
Amarnath: The Icy Abode of Shiva
High in Kashmir’s rugged embrace, Where heaven and earth in whispers grace, Stands Amarnath, the cave divine, Where frozen light and faith entwine.
A trek of zeal, a pilgrim’s might, Through mist-clad trails and starry night, From Srinagar’s vale, so far, so steep, To where the gods in silence sleep.
Four thousand meters touch the sky, Where mortal breath turns thin and shy, Yet hearts burn fierce with fervent prayer, To meet the Lord who waits them there.
Within the cave, so vast, so cold, A miracle of ice unfolds— A Linga bright, by drops conceived, Where Shiva’s form is half-believed.
From ancient hymns to Vedic lore, The Destroyer’s might we still adore, Yet here He stands, in frozen flame, Both formless form and sacred name.
When Sawan’s moon hangs full and bright, A sea of faith bathed in its light, They come with flowers, sweets, and gold, To seek the truth the sages told.
Oh Amarnath! Thy mystic shrine, Where earth and eternity align, Not just a cave, but heaven’s door— Where Shiva dwells forevermore.
