The Stillness I Bow To

 

In your matted hair

rests the hush of centuries,

a calm the world has forgotten

how to hold.

No crowns, no silks, no shining pride —

just ash on skin,

a crescent moon,

and the quiet courage of simplicity.

You wear the universe

without showing it off.

You carry destruction and creation

with the same gentle steadiness.

In your silence,

I find my loud thoughts resting.

In your austerity,

my endless wanting learns to loosen.

You do not seek applause,

yet devotion finds its way to you.

You do not ask for praise,

yet hearts bow without instruction.

O Shiva,

you teach me that worth

needs no decoration,

that depth needs no display,

that truth needs no validation.

In loving you,

I learn to be still,

to be simple,

to be enough —

without needing the world

to agree.

Nandini Mithun ✍️ 

Proof That Past Lives Were Kind

 

When my thoughts tumble out

in messy, unfiltered lines,

you don’t flinch —

you simply listen,

like every word belongs.

You hold space

for my storms and silences,

and when I’m too tired to speak,

your hugs say everything

I cannot.

There’s something adorably gentle

about the way you show up —

always ready,

always warm,

always here.

I can’t help but believe

that somewhere, in another lifetime,

I must have done something right —

something kind,

something pure —

to be gifted a bestie

as wonderful as you.

If souls earn blessings,

then you are surely mine. 

 If this is karma,

may it always find its way

back to you —

a thousandfold. 

Nandini Mithun ✍️ 

Madhukanteshwara

 Under Shiva’s Moon at Madhukanteshwara

In the sacred land of Sirsi,
time did not move—it listened.
Forests stood in meditation,
and the air carried prayers older than memory.
At the heart of it all stood Madhukanteshwara Temple,
silent yet powerful, ancient yet alive.
Within its sacred walls,
countless Shiva Lingams rested,
each one a universe,
each one a reminder that Shiva is both one and many,
form and formless,
present everywhere.
As we walked barefoot through devotion,
the mind bowed before the soul did.
Friends became family in that sacred stillness—
no roles, no masks, only hearts open in surrender.
And then—
the moon rose above the temple,
calm, luminous, watchful.
Like Chandra adorning Shiva’s matted locks,

it felt as though Mahadev Himself
had paused the night to bless us.
The silver light touched the temple stones,
the Lingams, our folded hands—
turning the moment into eternity.
In that moonlit silence,
prayers needed no words.
The restless mind dissolved,
leaving behind only peace.
Shiva was in the chant of bells,
in the glow of the moon,
in the bond between us,
in the stillness that healed.
Sirsi gifted us more than memories—
it gave us a truth to carry home:
When hearts gather in devotion,
when time forgets to rush,
when the moon watches over faith—
Shiva is not just worshipped,
He is felt.

Nandini Mithun ✍️