The ancient forests of Ujjain whispered secrets older than time, their leaves rustling like the echoes of forgotten tales. Krishneshwari, just thirteen yet burdened with a quest, ventured deeper into the thicket with her friends, laughter mingling with the birdsong. Yet, her heart was heavy, each step pulling her closer to a destiny she could not fully grasp. The guards, stoic and watchful, trailed behind, their presence a shield against the unknown.

"Aapko kya lagta hai, Rajkumari ? Woh punah aayenge ?" Hemlata asked, her voice wavering slightly.

The princess turned, her brow furrowed, the playful glint in her eyes replaced by a deep seriousness. "Unhone iss hi samaye bulaya hai mujhe. Kyu nahi aayenge ?"

The sun dipped lower, casting shadows that danced ominously around them. Krishneshwari felt the weight of the world on her shoulders; Mahakaal, the enigmatic lord, held answers that could unravel the mysteries of her true self, her purpose. Despite the beauty surrounding her, worry creased her brow; he had summoned her at this hour, and she felt the weight of destiny pressing upon her young shoulders.

Krishneshwari's gaze darted anxiously between the towering trees, longing for a glimpse of the enigmatic figure she sought. Just as doubt threatened to engulf her, a voice resonated through the air, rich and soothing. "Itni chintit kyu ho, Baalikey ?"

She turned, her breath hitching in her throat. There, standing regal and commanding, was Mahakaal himself, adorned in intricate garments that seemed woven from the very essence of the forest. Relief washed over her like a cool breeze.

"Mai aap hi ko dhundh rahi thi..." She replied, her voice trembling with emotion.

Mahakaal smiled knowingly as he settled onto the rock, "Mujhe nahi, tum swayam ko hi dhundh rahi ho."

"So toh hai." Krishneshwari sank to the ground before him, completely absorbed in his presence, oblivious to her companions and guards, lost in the sacred connection that bound them. "Kintu mujhe samajh nahi ata ki mai hu kaun."

Mahakaal’s regal attire, dark as the midnight sky, contrasted with the vibrant greens and browns of the forest. His piercing gaze held centuries of wisdom, and a faint smile danced on his lips. "Yeh ati jatil prashn hai, ki 'mai kaun hu' bade bade Rishi-muni bhi iska arth nahi jaan paate."

"Aur 'woh' hai kya ?" Krishneshwari asked.

"Woh jisko jaan lene se, sunai na dene wala sunai dene lagta hai. Jo dikhayi nahi deta, woh dikhne lagta hai. Jiske baare mei vichaar nahi kiya jaa sakta, woh vichaar ban samaksh aa jata hai." He continued, leaning in slightly, "Usko jaan lene se jo kuch bhi agyaat hai, gyaat ho jata hai."

"Kripiya uska gyaan mujhe de." She replied, her heart racing, "Woh kya hai ? Jisko jaan lene ke baad kuch jaanna shesh nahi ?"

Mahakaal smiled knowingly, his regal demeanor unshaken by the weight of her question. With a graceful motion, he lowered himself, cupping a fistful of rich, dark mud from the forest floor.

"Jab tum mitti ko jaan leti ho," he said, raising it for her to see, "tum mitti se bane sabhi paatro ko jaan leti ho."

He allowed the mud to slip slowly through his fingers, each grain glistening in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. He paused, then turned his gaze to her shimmering gold ornaments. "Tumne jo bhinn bhinn abhushan pehene hai, inme kya hai jo ek hai ?"

Krishneshwari studied her adornments, uncertainty clouding her brow. "Yeh sab... Swarn ke bane hai..." she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mahakaal nodded, his eyes sparkling with wisdom. "Jab tum swarn ko jaan leti ho, tum swarn se bane sabhi abhushan ko jaan leti ho. Aise hi jab tum, uss sarvoch satya ko jaan logi, tab tum iss sampurn sansaar ko jaan logi. Jis prakar swarn hi swarn-abhushan hai, mitti hi mitti ka patra hai, uss hi prakar woh sarvoch sat hi sab hai."

"Toh woh sat kya hai ?" Krishneshwari’s mind whirled with the implications of his words.

Mahakaal leans back against the sturdy bark of an ancient tree, the dappled sunlight casting ethereal patterns around him.a twinkle in his eyes. "Woh sarvoch satya tum swayam ho. Tat tvam asi, Krishneshwari !"

Krishneshwari felt her heart skip a beat, the weight of his revelation sinking in. She felt a fluttering within her, a mixture of awe and confusion. She felt the weight of each syllable settle within her, igniting a whirlwind of questions.

"Toh kya hai woh satya ?" She implored, "Jo mai hu ?"

Mahakaal, with a smile said, "Woh satya hai Brahm, Parabrahm Parmeshwar. Tum, mai, tumhare mitra, yeh sainik, tumhari praja, pashu-pakshi, adi... Inn sab mei woh sarvoch satya hai."

"Yadi hum sab woh sarvoch satya hai, yadi hum sab Ishvar hai, toh iss baat ka hume abhaas kyu nahi ?" She pressed, her youthful curiosity unyielding.

The lord's gaze deepened, contemplating her fervor. "Kyuki jeevatma nirvikar swayam hai kintu avidya ke prabhaav mei aakar swayam ko man aur sharir samajh baithta hai."

"Avidya kya hai ?" Krishneshwari's brows furrowed. Confusion and clarity danced in her eyes at the same time.

"Anatma ko aatma samajhna, nirvikaar ko vikaaryukt samajhna, aur iss sansaar ko hi satya samajhna, avidya hai." He explained, each word resonating in her chest like the tolling of a distant temple bell.

A wave of confusion washed over her, yet clarity followed closely, illuminating her mind like the dawn breaking through darkness. In that moment, Krishneshwari began to grasp the profound duality of existence, the delicate dance between the eternal and the ephemeral.

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A/N

The seeker and the sought are one and the same.
Saadhak aur saadhya ek hi hai.

The most beautiful irony ❤️