The Triumvirate of Sanctitude

By Dhruva Nandakumar

What would it take for one to give up the sense of superiority? Here is the story of a man who witnessed the essence of Siva, the unborn.

Looking up at the glimmering peak, I lay

tracing its velvet grasp, myriad shades of rancor blooming. I froze, perplexed, gaping at the clouds beneath

Enchanted by its beauty, the danger posed

I honored my doorstep with death’s rage

and began to climb the lifeless rock.

halfway up I turned around

and a shadow of dark engulfed my mind

a deathly illusion of power and pride

cast the ship of humility aside.

Laughing in ego, I turned to see

his indigo derm, his sacred ridges

Graced by fathoms of ash, his ternion lights

blazed by forgotten fires from eternal lands,

He bathed in the ichor of dynasties lost.

I saw the swaying of the endless green,

blissed and tranced, he wore a smile

draped in a beast's hide, dripping in blood.

To witness this fire of freedom and life

even the gods and angels arrived,

dancing in madness, reaching no-thing

I saw before me a flowing infinity.

Only then did I finally awake

the armor of arrogance began to crumble

I was nothing but a mortal, of blood and bone

a grain of sand before his throne.

By Dhruva Nandakumar