The morning sun cast its golden rays over the sleepy town of Rishikesh, illuminating the winding roads and the distant peaks of the Himalayas. A gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and earth, while the sound of temple bells echoed faintly in the background. Among the buzzing of scooters and the chatter of travelers, a young man in his early twenties adjusted his helmet, his sharp eyes scanning the road ahead. This was Shiva—a boy of dreams, mysteries, and a relentless determination.
Shiva wasn't just any ordinary young man. His thick, jet-black hair fell over his forehead, and his piercing gaze seemed to carry the weight of a thousand untold stories. His rugged backpack was strapped tightly to his small but trusty Hero Splendor bike. This journey wasn't just another adventurous trek to the Himalayas; it was deeply personal. In his pocket, he carried an old, rusted family emblem with intricate engravings and a faded map that his father had once given him. It was all that remained of his parents, who had vanished into the mysterious ruins of the Himalayas years ago. Shiva often found himself replaying the last moments he remembered with them—his father's reassuring voice telling him stories of ancient legends, his mother's gentle hands fixing his hair. That ache of their absence had never faded, only sharpened with time, pushing him toward the answers hidden in those treacherous peaks.
For years, Shiva had heard whispers in his family about a fabled treasure called Saptomi. Legends said it was discovered by none other than Ravana, the demon king himself, and hidden in the treacherous ruins deep within the Himalayas. But for Shiva, this wasn't just about gold or artifacts; this treasure held the key to unraveling the mystery of his parents' disappearance.
The bike sputtered as it climbed the steep, winding road. Shiva gritted his teeth and muttered to himself, "Come on, baby, don't give up on me now. We've got a long way to go."
After what felt like an eternity, he pulled into a small roadside tea stall. The wooden shack overlooked a valley blanketed in clouds, and the scent of freshly brewed chai wafted through the air. A few locals and travelers sat on wooden benches, sipping tea and sharing stories.
Shiva parked his bike and stretched, his muscles aching from the long ride. He approached the tea stall and ordered a steaming cup of chai. Taking a sip, he turned to the elderly man behind the counter.
"Baba," Shiva began respectfully, "I'm looking for the ruins near the upper Himalayas. Do you know anything about them?"
The old man's eyes narrowed as he set down the kettle. "Ruins? Which ruins, beta? The Himalayas are full of ancient places. Some are sacred, and some… well, best left undisturbed."
"These ruins are supposed to be dangerous," Shiva explained, pulling out the map and showing it to the man. "They're hidden somewhere around here. I've heard stories about a treasure called Saptomi."
At the mention of Saptomi, the chatter in the tea stall died down. A hush fell over the group as several pairs of eyes turned to Shiva. The old man's expression darkened.
"You… you shouldn't be asking about that," the man said in a hushed tone. "That treasure is cursed. Many have gone looking for it, and none have returned. Why are you interested in such things?"
Shiva's jaw tightened. "It's personal. My parents… they disappeared searching for this place. Sometimes, late at night, I still hear my mother's voice calling me, and I see glimpses of my father's smile in my dreams. I can't let their memory fade; I have to find them, or at least the truth of what happened. I need to know what happened to them."
The old man sighed deeply, his eyes softening. "Beta, the mountains hold many secrets, and not all of them are meant to be uncovered. But if you insist on going, you'll need to be careful. The ruins you're talking about are near Kedarnath, in a place the locals call Rakshasa Bhoomi."
"Rakshasa Bhoomi?" Shiva repeated, frowning.
"Yes," the man replied. "It's said to be the land of demons. Few dare to venture there. They say Ravana hid something there long ago, and it's protected by traps and illusions. The terrain is unforgiving, and the spirits of those who perished guard the place."
Shiva nodded, his resolve unwavering. "Thank you, Baba. I'll be careful."
A burly man sitting nearby, wearing a thick jacket and a beanie, chuckled darkly. "Careful won't save you, kid. You're heading straight into death's jaws. What makes you think you'll succeed where so many others have failed?"
Shiva turned to him, his voice steady. "Because I don't have a choice. I have to find the truth."
The man shrugged. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."
The road grew rougher as Shiva ascended further into the mountains. The air became thinner, and the cold bit at his face, but he pressed on. Villages became fewer and farther between, and the terrain turned rugged and treacherous. Occasionally, he stopped to ask locals for directions, showing them the map and describing the ruins.
Most shook their heads or avoided the topic altogether. "We don't go near those parts," one shepherd warned. "Strange things happen there. People vanish without a trace."
"That's where I need to go," Shiva replied firmly.
Finally, he reached a small settlement nestled in a valley. A temple dedicated to Lord Shiva stood at the edge of the village, its spire piercing the sky. Shiva parked his bike and approached a group of villagers gathered around a fire.
An elderly woman with a weathered face and kind eyes stepped forward. "You've come a long way, haven't you, beta? What brings you to these parts?"
Shiva showed her the map and explained his quest. The woman's expression grew somber.
"The place you seek is cursed," she said. "But if your heart is pure and your intentions noble, Lord Shiva will guide you. You should visit the temple and seek his blessings before you go."
Shiva nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Maaji."
That evening, under the light of a crescent moon, Shiva knelt before the temple. The air was thick with incense, and the sound of chanting filled the space. He closed his eyes, his heart heavy with a mix of hope and fear.
"Mahadev," he whispered, "I don't know what lies ahead, but I need your strength. Help me find the truth and bring my parents back."
As he finished his prayer, the temple bells swayed gently in the wind, their chimes blending with the rustling leaves. Shiva felt a strange comfort, as though the divine presence of Mahadev was watching over him. He bowed deeply, touched his forehead to the cold stone floor, and rose with a renewed sense of purpose.
Just outside the temple, Shiva set up his small tent on a patch of flat ground under the shadow of the ancient spire. The stars above glittered like scattered diamonds, and the distant howl of the wind through the valleys filled the air. As exhaustion finally claimed him, Shiva lay on his sleeping bag, staring up at the fabric ceiling of his tent. The temple's silhouette stood tall against the moonlit sky, a silent guardian over his rest.
Before long, his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted into a deep sleep, dreaming of the peaks that held his destiny.
As he opened his eyes, a sudden gust of wind swept through the temple, extinguishing the flames of the lamps. Shiva felt a strange energy course through him, as if the mountains themselves were acknowledging his presence. The new morning brought with it a crispness in the air and a renewed determination. After a quick prayer to Mahadev, he packed up his tent and prepared to continue his journey. Filling the tank of his Hero Splendor at the village's tiny fuel station, he glanced at the towering peaks ahead and muttered, "Alright, let's do this."
With renewed determination, Shiva stood and looked toward the looming peaks in the distance. The ruins awaited, and with them, the answers he had been seeking his entire life.
As the day unfolded, Shiva's determination led him further into the treacherous trails of the Himalayas. The cold gnawed at his fingers even through his gloves, and the biting wind howled like a relentless predator. The Hero Splendor struggled on the uneven paths, but Shiva coaxed it along with silent prayers to Mahadev.
Just as he approached a clearing by a steep cliff, he noticed a lone figure sitting cross-legged near the edge. Draped in saffron robes with a matted beard and hair that flowed like a river of wisdom, the man exuded a mystic aura. It was a Naga Baba, his body smeared with ash and adorned with rudraksha beads. The Baba seemed to be meditating, but as Shiva approached, the man's eyes opened slowly, locking onto him with a knowing gaze.
"Child, you carry a heavy burden," the Baba said, his voice deep and resonant. "The mountains whispered your arrival to me."
Shiva paused, surprised. "You were expecting me?"
The Baba nodded. "The path you seek is not walked by ordinary men. I saw your arrival in a vision. Tell me, why do you venture into these cursed lands?"
Shiva took a deep breath and knelt respectfully before the Baba. "I'm searching for the ruins where a treasure called Saptomi is said to lie. It's not about the treasure itself. My parents vanished looking for it years ago, and I need to know what happened to them."
The Baba studied him silently for a moment before rising to his feet. His movements were deliberate and graceful, as though he carried centuries of wisdom in every step. "If you seek truth and not greed, I will guide you," he said. "But know this, young one: the journey ahead is as much a test of your spirit as it is of your strength."
Shiva nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Baba. I'm ready."