The climb no longer felt like walking.
It felt like being judged.
Each step Ganesh took higher into the mountains was answered by sharper wind, thinner air, and biting cold that crept into his bones. The green of the lower hills had long vanished. Now there was only stone, ice, and a sky that felt closer than the world below.
The path was barely a path at all—just broken ridges and narrow ledges where one misstep could mean falling into nothingness.
Yet he walked.
Not because he was strong.
But because stopping felt worse.
By the third day in the mountains, snow began to fall.
At first it was gentle, flakes drifting like pale petals. Then the wind rose, and the flakes became needles that stung his face and blurred his vision.
Ganesh pulled his cloth tight around his shoulders and mouth. His breath came out in ragged clouds. His fingers had grown numb hours ago.
Every few steps, he whispered the mantra that now rose from him without thought.
"Om Namah Shivaya…"
He did not know why he said it.
Only that when he did, he felt a little less alone.
The storm worsened by afternoon.
The world became white and howling. Sky and ground vanished into one endless blur. Ganesh could no longer see where he was going. He could barely tell if he was still climbing.
His legs shook. His ribs, still bruised from his defeat, burned with every breath. His head throbbed, and dark spots danced at the edges of his vision.
This is foolish, a voice inside him whispered. No one asked you to come here.
He stopped, leaning heavily on his staff, chest heaving.
Cold gnawed at him from every side.
He looked around.
There was no shelter.
No path.
Only storm.
Fear rose in his chest like ice.
If I go on, I may die.
If I turn back, I may never reach what calls me.
He closed his eyes and took a long, shuddering breath.
"I didn't come to be safe," he whispered into the storm. "I came to be true."
Then he stepped forward.
Time lost meaning.
Minutes felt like hours. Hours like heartbeats.
Ganesh walked until he no longer felt his feet. Until his breath rasped like broken glass in his chest. Until even the mantra faded from his lips.
At last, his legs gave way.
He stumbled, slid down a short slope of ice and stone, and crashed against a rock. Pain exploded through his side, but he barely felt it.
He lay there, half-buried in snow, staring at the swirling sky.
Cold seeped deeper, heavier, wrapping around his limbs like chains.
His shivering slowed.
A dangerous calm settled over him.
So this is how it ends, he thought dimly. On a mountain, far from every fire I ever knew.
He felt no anger.
Only a quiet sadness.
"I walked as far as I could," he whispered. "If that's not enough… then I accept it."
His eyelids grew heavy.
Darkness crept in.
Then—
Warmth.
Not the warmth of fire.
The warmth of presence.
It brushed against his soul like a steady hand.
Ganesh's eyes fluttered open.
Through the storm, he saw a shape.
A tall figure stood a few paces away, unmoved by the raging wind. Snow swirled around it, yet never touched it.
For a moment, Ganesh thought it was another dream.
Then the figure spoke.
"Get up."
The voice was calm.
Yet it carried the weight of mountains.
Ganesh tried to move.
His body barely responded.
"I can't," he whispered.
"Then crawl," the voice said.
There was no command in it.
Only certainty.
Something inside Ganesh answered.
He dug his fingers into the snow and pulled himself forward, inch by inch. Each movement tore through his body, but the warmth stayed just ahead, guiding him.
At last, he felt stone beneath his hands instead of ice.
A cave mouth, hidden behind hanging sheets of frozen water, opened before him.
Ganesh collapsed just inside.
The storm's roar dulled, blocked by rock.
Strong hands lifted him effortlessly and carried him deeper into the darkness.
The last thing he felt before losing consciousness was warmth surrounding him.
When Ganesh woke, he lay beside a small fire.
Its light danced across the stone walls of the cave, turning ice into gold. The air was still cold, but no longer deadly.
He pushed himself up weakly.
Across from him sat an ascetic.
The man's body was smeared with ash. His matted hair fell in thick locks around broad shoulders. A simple cloth covered him, yet he seemed untouched by cold.
He sat perfectly still.
Eyes closed.
Breath slow.
As if carved from the mountain itself.
Ganesh felt his heart pound.
This was no ordinary wanderer.
"Thank you," Ganesh whispered. "You saved my life."
The ascetic did not move.
For a moment, Ganesh wondered if he had imagined the voice in the storm.
Then the man spoke, without opening his eyes.
"The mountain saved you," he said. "I only showed you where to fall."
Ganesh frowned, confused. "If you hadn't been there, I would be dead."
The ascetic replied calmly, "Perhaps. Or perhaps you would have learned what it means to die."
Ganesh did not know how to answer that.
The ascetic opened his eyes.
They were deep and dark, like endless night—yet within them burned a still, gentle light that made Ganesh's breath catch.
When their gazes met, the world seemed to pause.
Not the cave.
The world.
Ganesh felt something inside him tremble.
Without knowing why, he slid off the stone and knelt.
"I don't know who you are," he said, voice shaking, "but everything in me tells me to bow."
The ascetic studied him quietly.
Then he smiled faintly.
"There is no need," he said. "Sit. Warm yourself."
Ganesh obeyed, though his hands still trembled.
They sat in silence as Ganesh drank warm water the ascetic handed him. Strength slowly returned to his limbs.
After a while, Ganesh gathered his courage.
"What should I call you?" he asked.
The man looked into the fire.
"For now," he said, "call me a wanderer of these peaks."
Ganesh nodded. "Wanderer… why did you help me?"
The ascetic met his eyes.
"Because you walked here not to conquer the mountain," he replied, "but to be broken by it."
Ganesh shivered.
The man's voice softened.
"Rest now," he said. "Tomorrow, we will speak."
Ganesh lay back near the fire, exhaustion pulling him toward sleep.
Yet even as his eyes closed, he felt the presence beside him—vast, calm, and immeasurable.
The fire suddenly flickered.
Then it went out.
Darkness swallowed the cave.
Before Ganesh could speak, the ground beneath him trembled—not violently, but like a giant heart awakening within the mountain.
A deep hum filled the air.
Om…
The sound was not heard.
It was felt.
It vibrated through Ganesh's bones, his blood, his soul.
Ash swirled in the darkness, though there was no wind.
A pale glow rose from the heart of the cave.
The ascetic stood.
As he rose, the cave seemed to expand, its walls stretching into infinity. Cold vanished, replaced by a presence so vast that Ganesh felt impossibly small.
The man's matted hair lifted as if stirred by an unseen storm. From it shimmered moonlight and flowing water. A crescent glow formed upon his brow.
A serpent's shadow coiled around his neck.
Ganesh's breath caught.
The man opened his eyes.
They were no longer just eyes.
They were cosmic voids, deep as eternity, burning with a calm that could shatter worlds.
The hum grew louder.
Om Namah Shivaya…
Ganesh's entire body shook.
Not only from fear.
From recognition buried deeper than memory.
Tears streamed down his face as his heart thundered in his chest. His body moved on its own, collapsing fully to the stone.
"Mahadev…" he whispered, the name tearing itself from his soul.
Light erupted, filling the cave.
For an instant, Ganesh saw everything—
Worlds rising and falling,
Fire consuming creation,
Time folding into itself,
And in the center of all—
Him.
The Destroyer.
The Yogi.
The Lord beyond form.
Then the light faded.
The cave returned.
The fire reignited softly.
Before him stood Shiva, ash-smeared and calm, as though nothing had happened.
Mahadev looked down at him with infinite gentleness.
"Rise, Ganesh," Shiva said.
The voice was not loud.
Yet it echoed through eternity.
"You have walked through fear, hunger, defeat, and death's shadow to reach here. Few dare such a road. Fewer still survive it."
Ganesh could not lift his head. His entire being trembled.
"I am nothing before you, Lord," he whispered. "Yet you saved me. Why?"
Shiva knelt before him.
The mountain itself seemed to bow.
"Because," Mahadev said softly, placing a hand upon Ganesh's head,
"you did not come seeking power… you came seeking truth."
The touch sent a surge through Ganesh's soul.
He gasped, tears falling freely.
"Rest now," Shiva said. "Tomorrow, you will decide if you are ready to be broken again… and remade."
Ganesh bowed deeper, unable to speak.
As sleep claimed him, one thought filled his mind:
I have reached the feet of Mahadev.