ॐ नमः शिवाय
हर हर बोले नमः शिवाय
नमः शिवाय
ॐ नमः शिवाय
हर हर बोले नमः शिवाय...

The chants of Om Namah Shivaya echoed like sacred waves along the Ganga ghats, blending with the gentle tinkling of temple bells. Devotees gathered, their voices rising in unison, carrying prayers into the amber sky.

The sun hovered at the horizon, casting a molten gold glow across the holy river.

Rudraksh stood waist-deep in the sacred waters, his eyes closed in deep concentration as he recited the mantra with unwavering devotion.

"Om Namah Shivaya... Om Namah Shivaya..."

Submerging himself fully, he offered his prayers to Lord Mahadev beneath the water’s surface. After completing three solemn circumambulations, he emerged, droplets shimmering on his skin, his simple dhoti clinging to him like a second skin.

The temple, dimly lit by flickering oil lamps, felt hushed, its sanctum nearly empty as the evening aarti echoed from the nearby ghat.

Barefoot, Rudraksh walked reverently towards the grand idol of Lord Mahadev, adorned with marigold garlands and sandalwood paste. Folding his hands, he bowed deeply.

"Mahadev, accept my humble prayers. Grant me strength and wisdom on this path I tread."

His voice was soft, yet resolute, as if speaking not just to the deity but to the very essence of his soul.

Outside, the distant chorus of bells and chants mingled with the night air, sealing this moment of spiritual communion.

Far away, in the heart of a bustling metropolis, the scene shifted dramatically.

The Rathore Enterprises headquarters buzzed with excitement. Congratulatory banners fluttered alongside balloons, the air thick with anticipation. A massive banner proclaimed: Welcome Back Devanshi.

A sleek black Mercedes glided to a halt in front of the building. Niharika, the ever-diligent assistant, rushed forward to open the door. The crowd parted eagerly as Devanshi Rathore stepped out—radiant, poised, the very image of confidence and grace.

Cheers erupted. Employees clapped and whistled, their faces alight with admiration.

Devraj Rathore, her father and the company’s patriarch, strode forward, pride shining in his eyes. He embraced his daughter warmly.

"Welcome back, my daughter. You’ve made us all immensely proud."

Devanshi’s smile softened. “Thank you, Papa. It’s good to be home.”

A senior shareholder, Sirish uncle, stepped forward with a beautiful bouquet of lilies.

"Welcome back, Devanshi beta," he said warmly.

“Thank you, Sirish uncle,” she replied graciously, as Niharika helped collect the flowers.

Soon, the room fell silent as Devanshi took the podium, flanked by her father and the company’s senior executives.

“Thank you all for such a warm welcome,” she began, her voice steady and filled with conviction. “Today is not just a celebration of my success, but a testament to the strength of teamwork and determination that defines Rathore Enterprises.”

The crowd nodded in agreement, hanging on every word.

“This deal wasn’t merely about securing a contract; it was about proving that Rathore Enterprises is a force to be reckoned with on the global stage. None of this would have been possible without the unwavering support of my father, Devraj Rathore, who has been my pillar of strength from the very beginning.”

Her father’s proud smile deepened.

“To the entire team at Rathore Enterprises, thank you for your hard work, dedication, and belief in our vision. Together, we have shown the world what true collaboration can achieve.”

Thunderous applause erupted.

Later, amidst the lively celebrations, Devanshi excused herself and found her father quietly enjoying the moment alone.

“Papa,” she called softly.

He turned and embraced her tightly.

“I’ve missed you so much. Especially your handmade food,” she teased.

Devraj chuckled warmly. “What does my princess want for dinner? I’ll cook once we’re home.”

Devanshi pulled back, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Not dinner, Papa. Tomorrow morning—I want to cook breakfast with you. I’ve taken the day off.”

“Oh? My workaholic daughter wants a day off? That’s new,” he joked.

She made a playful face. “Come on, Papa, I can’t just take a day off...”

“Of course you can, princess.”

“Okay, it’s a deal then.”

“Deal,” he smiled, his eyes shining with affection.

As the last echoes of the Om Namah Shivaya chants faded into the evening breeze, Rudraksh remained motionless before the towering idol of Lord Mahadev. The temple’s cool stone walls seemed to absorb his quiet prayers, wrapping him in a sacred stillness.

His mind, however, was a tempest.

Since childhood, Rudraksh had been drawn irresistibly to the divine, to the mysteries of Shiva—the destroyer and transformer, the lord of meditation and asceticism. Yet, his path was not one of mere ritual. It was a quest, a fierce and lonely journey toward inner awakening.

The village whispered of his intense devotion—how he could spend hours in meditation, how he sought solitude more than company. Some admired him; others whispered that he was different, set apart by something unseen.

Tonight, like many nights, doubts gnawed at him.

Was his faith strong enough to endure the storms ahead? Could he reconcile the demands of his spiritual quest with the harsh realities of the world? His heart ached with the burden of responsibility—not just to himself, but to the community that looked to him for guidance.

He knelt and touched the cold stone floor, whispering, “Mahadev, grant me the strength to walk this path without fear. Help me see through the illusions of the mind and find truth beyond the veil.”

Suddenly, a soft breeze stirred the temple curtains, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and sandalwood. Rudraksh closed his eyes, feeling the presence of something greater—a subtle assurance, a divine whisper urging him onward.

Rising slowly, he moved toward the temple entrance. Outside, the world awaited: the laughter of children, the bustle of villagers preparing for the night, the eternal flow of the sacred Ganges.

Rudraksh knew his journey was just beginning.

With every step along the riverbank, every prayer uttered beneath the stars, he vowed to embrace both the light and shadow within himself—to become a living reflection of Lord Shiva’s eternal dance.

And in that sacred dance, perhaps, he would find not only liberation but also a deeper connection to the world he sought to serve.

Sneak peek-

Devraj grinned. “I need to find the perfect groom for you—someone who can cook like me.”

“Dad! What?”

“Princess, did you like anyone in Singapore?”

“Not my type. Mera wala to app ke jaise hoga—bilkul app jaisa, khana banane wala.”

(He will be just like you, like a good cook as you..)