Kailasa and the Hermit
Introduction
…I felt a tickling sensation on one of my sides. It was not enough to deter me from meditating, but I was curious. I could hear the heavy breathing of the small creature struggling to reach my face. I ignored it. I expected him to give up, maybe stay for a night at most, and leave. Days came and went, and he kept climbing. Once he reached my face, I did not expect him to stay. He set his praying mat on my face and meditated. He will surely leave, I thought, once the winds change and the frigid airs chill his bones. But he did not move…
Kailasa had been sitting in prayer for over a yuga, unperturbed and unmoving. Only birds flying silently would come near him, but dared not nest. Even the winds remained silent, afraid to disturb his meditation. He did not shake the villages at his feet. He did not shake off the snow that covered his face. Only his Om could be heard for five hundred yojanas. Everyone who heard it could feel an inconsolable emptiness, an extreme sadness. The sun did not come out to shine wherever his Om could be heard, for Surya himself could not bear the heartbreak. Rarely did new hermits appear, but the villagers never left.
One morning came -Kailasa knew it was morning because he could see the weak rays of Surya’s chariot in the distance- and he felt a tickling sensation on one of his sides. It was not enough to deter him from meditating, but he was curious. Kailasa was surprised that he could even still feel curiosity. It had been a long time since he had felt anything other than anger and sadness. He could hear the heavy breathing of the hermit struggling to reach his face. Kailasa ignored it, or at least pretended to.
"He will leave before the ahoratra is up," Kailasa reasoned. Ahoratras turned into masas, masas into rutus, rutus into ayanas, and ayanas into samvatsaras. The curious pilgrim just kept climbing and meditating. He would pray when he felt hunger pangs and meditated profoundly to fight the cold. Not only did the hermit reach the top, but he stayed, sitting in the lotus position, meditating in unison with Kailasa. He will surely leave, he has to leave; men were not meant to endure a winter with me, Kailasa thought - once the winds change and the frigid airs chill his bones, I will be alone again. But the man did not move.
Mount Kailash
Photograph by Alister Benn
The winds started changing once again, and Kailasa had grown fond of his new companion. On an especially frigid night, the mountain decided to raise some rocks to keep him from the cold. The man did not move, but Kailasa felt his spirit relax slightly. The next morning, Kailasa noticed Surya’s carriage had gotten slightly closer. It was not until then that he realized that Surya had been getting closer every round, making each morning warmer than the previous. By now, some of the rays were reaching his face.
Kailasa had a slight suspicion that his new companion was responsible for this. He listened closely and could hear the man’s breathing, almost imperceptible, but it was his spirit that loudly repeated the mantra praising Surya, who was coaxed closer. Kailasa, surprised that it took him so long for him to realize that this was happening, was embarrassed. He bashfully wondered why this individual was so mesmerizing. Kailasa still did not move, but he had the winds push a small river closer so that the man could drink water. He had not sought nourishment or shelter for his entire stay, yet Kailasa felt inclined to help him. Once Surya was close enough to Kailasa, the mountain saluted the god with the glistening reflection of his rays off the snow on his face, which was slowly starting to give way to small plants.
Mount Kinnaur Kailash
Ascetic - Trans Atlantis
Watercolor and India Ink
“Surya, old friend, what a pleasant visit.”
“I am pleased that you are allowing me to be in your presence again.”
“Ah, it was not my doing, but I surely rejoice in your return.”
Quizzically, Surya looked at Kailasa, unsure of who would have summoned him, for the villagers respected Kailasa’s wishes. His eyes then fell on the meditating hermit. The hermit was rawboned, but somehow graceful and strong-looking. His skin glistened gold as Surya’s rays bathed him with light.
Impressed, Surya strengthened his light to warm his bones.
“Well, Kailasa, I must go.” And so Surya left and Kailasa helped his chariot go faster by moving so the wind could push his chariot forth.
“Thank you,” Kailasa murmured, both to Surya and the hermit. At this, the hermit concluded his salute to the sun and bowed to Kailasa.
“Thank you, Lord Kailasa, for allowing me to pray on you. I found solace in your Om. I have travelled for mahayojanas, and nothing would soothe my spirit as you. I am humbled to be in the presence of divine comfort’s arms.”
Kailasa sighed heavily. The edge of the snow, weakened by Surya’s visit, had gotten slushy and with the mountain’s sigh, it plummeted, rolling. Kailasa was quick to react, as he lifted rocks to keep the villages at his feet from being destroyed. The hermit had returned to meditation and he was lifted off the ground before the snow could roll over him...
Author's Note: Mount Kailasa is one of the most sacred places in the world, revered by four religions: Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Bön. In Hinduism, Kailasa is associated with Shiva, its most prominent inhabitant, and Shiva's wife, Parvati. Mount Kailasa lies between Lake Manasarovara and Lake Rakshastal. Along with the rest of the Himalayas, it is the birthplace to some of Asia’s longest rivers. People do not attempt to reach the top, but they do carry out pilgrimages around it, visiting multiple temples along the way, learning, meditating, and praying.
The dynamic of this storybook is the dialogue and developing friendship between Kailasa and Shiva. The resilience of the pilgrim, later discovered to be Shiva, impresses Kailasa, drawing him away from his sorrows and out of his loneliness. Likewise, Shiva bonds with Kailasa, content to find peace and solitude and surprisingly friendship.
Mount Kailash at Sunrise
Bhagyati Nath, Watercolor on Paper