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Nestled in the valley of the mountains, the Himalaya, the king of mountains, Hemavat, had his kingdom. He was a devout Shaivist; his wife, Menaka, also known as Menavati, was often referred to in the previous life as a nymph and a friend to Devi Sati. After her children had left the nest, the lonely Menaka wished she had a daughter. She prayed to the gods. Little did she know, the gods were as eager as she was for the birth of her child, Parvati, the daughter of Parvat Raj Himalaya. Menaka lovingly started calling her Gauri, for her complexion was fair, like that of the people of the mountains. As she nurtured her child, little did the queen know that the princess was born to fulfil the story that remained unfinished in her previous life. She did not remember how, once in jest, she had expressed her desire to be mother to Sati when she was in Kailash. While she braided the Devi's hair, Menaka expressed her loneliness, and Sati had promised to be her daughter in her next life. Sati's immolation had shocked them all. But with time, her name and those unfortunate events were carefully avoided being spoken of again.
Parvati grew sheltered, cherished by parents and siblings alike: Mainak, the invincible peak, and Ganga, whose sacred waters blessed the realm. From her earliest years, drawn to Rishi Dadhichi's ashram, she absorbed tales of a spirited soul. At three, the sage offered an idol into her tiny hands.
"This is your husband, princess," he reminded her gently. "When the time comes, only you can win his heart." She understood very little then, yet her fate was woven at birth to complete Sati's unfinished legacy, heal Shiva's aching heart, and birth the son who would slay Tarakasura, restoring cosmic order.
She grew up hearing stories of how He gave her sister a purpose in life, how He had lost his love and how He had saved lives. Sixteen-year-old Gauri now dreams of meeting him every day, imagining how he would be in person, as she chanted his praise at the temples.
Once the Lord was travelling through the land, she heard. He was joining an assembly of the Saptarishi up in the mountains. Her parents visited him with fruits and offerings, asking him to stay at their palace. The lord had refused. But he accepted their hospitality. Ganga took charge of the offerings as she travelled through the forest to offer fruits to the accompanying Ganas. Shiva sat unaware, in meditation for days. Despite her plea, a young Parvati was not allowed to accompany Ganga. Stubborn as she was, she followed her sister in secret to catch a glimpse of the man who captivated her heart.
Shiva sat in meditation, eyes closed, his senses slowly focusing on his inner self, his inner energy, the noise of the outer world fading into nothingness. He was surrounded by his Ganas who danced ash smeared, the Rishis who chanted Mantras at the Havan, the sages who meditated alongside him, their breath rising and falling. The rustling leaves, chirping birds, animals, people, everything slowly faded as his meditation deepened. But then, he heard, among all the noise, the sound of anklets. His heart skipped a beat. He could recognise her still. The way her anklet made music, which reached him, breaking all barriers of his meditative state. Shiva did not want to open his eyes, yet his soul was restless. It had been aeons since he felt Sati's presence around him. Yet it was a feeling like yesterday. The Timeless was scared of the test of Time once again. Was it her? Did she keep her promise to come back to him? Scared of his thoughts, Shiva slowly drew himself out of his meditation, and his eyes fell on her. The young girl, fair-skinned, tall, her hair curly, falling to her hip, her doe eyes fiery with determination. She looked nothing like Sati. She stood there, in awe, as he spared a glance at her. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out of it. Shiva closed his eyes again, removing his glance from the soul he recognised. There was no way that girl was his Sati. Ganga spotted her sister and scolded her, dragging her away from the spot. That night, the followers were shocked when he wanted to move. He wanted to go back to Kailash, he said, to resume his Samadhi.
Parvati's parents grew worried as she reached marriageable age. Parvati refused to entertain the idea. She knew in her heart and soul that she was Shiva's. It worried her parents. They approached the sages for help. The sages, in turn, sought help from the Creator God, who advised her to seek his love through meditation. Only deep penance could move Bholenath. Thus began the most difficult part of her life. Her journey from the princess of a luxurious palace to a cave hermit. She lived on fruit she collected, and when the winter grew cold and food was scarce, she ate leaves in the forest. Some days, she starved. But she was adamant.
Her penance did very little to move Shiva. After travelling for centuries in the pain of Sati's death, mourning her like mortals, Shiva was now calm. Seeing Parvati when he did not expect to had disturbed him to the core. There was no denying that he recognised his Sati, no matter which form she was in. He did not wish to go down the path of self-destruction again. To remove himself from his worldly emotion and the attachment he felt to the girl he barely knew, He had established himself in Samadhi, away from the world and its ways, in the cold Kailash, where nobody could reach him. Nandi sat at his feet in guard, waiting for his Lord to wake up in vain. Vishnu and Brahma were worried. When they dared to interrupt his meditation, Shiva was clear. He would not accept another woman in his life, especially another rebellious princess. He reminded the Protector and Creator how, once, his love had threatened to destroy the universe. He could not allow himself to make the same mistake again. While Vishnu was lost in thought, Brahma had other ideas. He summoned Kama, the god of Love and told him to point his arrow at Shiva when Parvati was around. Seeing her, after being stuck by Kama's arrow, would surely make the hermit change his mind. Kama set out to fulfil his orders.
Rati was worried about her husband. She did not want him to face the wrath of the Destroyer. She visited Parvati in her cave. Parvati was deep in her meditation, in front of the Phallus of the Lord, and she had not eaten for days. Seeing her devotion to her love, Rati was moved. She decided not to disturb her penance. Kama hid behind a rock, away from Nandi's gaze. He aimed his arrow of love at the Timeless One. What Rati feared became her reality in moments. As soon as the arrow reached Shiva, he opened his third eye and the arrow, as well as Kama, turned to ashes in his wrath. Shiva was angry not only because of Kama's attempt but also because he thought Parvati was part of this ploy. Rati was devastated. She rushed to Parvati and pleaded with her to give her husband back. Together, they travelled to finally see Shiva. As soon as Nandi saw a glimpse of sixteen-year-old Parvati, he was in tears. The woman looked vastly different from the Sati he knew. Yet there was something in her eyes that reminded him of Sati. He was worried for his Lord. Rati threw herself at Shiva's feet, asking for forgiveness for her husband. Parvati had no sense of her own aims as she advocated for Rati. Shiva was calmer when he realised neither of the women had any part in the ploy. He told Rati that Kama would be back after a penance as a life on earth. Rati then sought his permission to join her husband in penance. It was then that Shiva's attention shifted to Parvati. She was not in the slightest way like Sati, the way she claimed to be. All he knew was that history could not repeat itself. It once cost him his aloofness, his emotions and his self-awareness. He would not let it happen again. As Parvati cried at his feet, Shiva turned away, asking her to leave, ordering her to forget her wish of marrying him. The more he spoke of rejecting her, Parvati's teen heart became more stubborn and rebellious.
Her penance grew deeper; she starved herself and continued praying. It lasted days and months until Vishnu once again appeared in front of Shiva, advocating for her. He reminded Shiva that not even the gods could escape Fate. His fate was sealed the day he gave Tarakasura the boon to be killed by his son. Balance needed to be restored. Being reminded of his duties moved Shiva. He could see how stubborn Parvati was and how her strength grew through penance. One day, an old man interrupted her, seeking alms. As she gave him the last part of the food she had gathered for herself, he asked, "Why are you seeking love from a man who has nothing? No home, no riches, no love to offer. Go home, Princess, and marry a Prince."
"He is the one I have loved ever since I understood love. I will not give up on him till my last breath"
He appeared pleased and replied, " I had come to test you, Princess. I will go to your father and ask him for your hand. Go home" Before Parvati could realise that the old man was Shiva in disguise, she saw him disappear.
The wedding festivities continued for days, and the whole Aryavarta celebrated. Their's was the first Prajapati Vivah, conducted by the Prajapati Brahma himself, witnessed by Devas, Asuras, Gandharvas, Nagas, Pisachas, Ghosts and Ganas alike. He took her home. His home was the open skyline and endless meadows. His home was the Kailash Mountains at Manasarovar. Her luxurious palace life and her princess ways were left behind.
Days and months turned to years; he was her Guru and she, his Shishya, but they were in a very respected yet formal relationship. Her care made the mountains his home. Yet something in him feared losing her. She was so much like his first wife, yet so different. She knew how he resisted love because he feared being hurt again. He always blamed himself for his first wife's death and hence stayed away from her. Their family grew up with two sons and a daughter. He learned to care for her. But deep inside, there was this emptiness for him. She looked into his empty eyes and wondered what was so special about his first love. He explained to her that Sati broke his mould of a hermit and introduced him to more worldly emotions, while Parvati bound him to a family life, taught him the role of a husband and father.
Life atop the mountain tested her endurance daily. She mastered the art of taming wild beasts, coaxing their loyalty without a single wound inflicted. He counselled her ceaselessly: wield power only as the final refuge. Travellers, enchanted by her ethereal beauty, sang her praises across distant lands. Asuras, driven by dark lust, sought to claim her; she slew the boldest, while he meted stern justice upon the rest. Apsaras descended like shimmering veils, vying for his heart, igniting her fierce jealousy. Yet in that shadowed possessiveness burned an unspoken love, fierce and eternal.
He embodied the ideal husband, cherishing her wisdom above his own. She was the devoted wife who transformed Kailash's icy peaks into a home of warmth and joy. Maidens dreamed of husbands like him; men yearned for partners like her. Their union stood as a beacon for the realm, unmarred by betrayal, as a symbol of love, respect, trust and equality. Yet a whisper from the past lingered between them, dimming the full bloom of their love, even as their marriage endures in worship across the world while his devotion to his first wife echoes eternally in melancholy tales.
