Chapter 35: Where Devotion Begins
Chapter 35: Where Devotion Begins
Shon's POV
It had been a few days since I left Ayodhya. The roads were familiar now, but I had changed. The world looked different. I had grown.
And Sundargiri—my second home—was calling.
Along the way, I didn't walk like a wandering boy anymore. I walked like someone returning to something sacred. I still fought wild boars and wolves along the way, but now... they felt like warm-ups. Not like the first time, when survival felt like a miracle. Now, they were exercises. Tough ones, yes, but I was tougher.
By the time I reached the base of Sundargiri, the sky had already started to melt into gold and purple. Dusk was falling fast as I climbed the final stretch up the sacred hill.
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General POV
When Shon reached the summit of Sundargiri, the stars were already peeking through the indigo sky. The breeze was calm. The air still carried the scent of sandalwood and wild herbs. And standing amidst the mountain's serenity was Hanuman—the eternal disciple, the strength of faith in form.
"Pranam, Gurudev," Shon said, bowing low.
"Ayushman bhava, putra," Lord Hanuman blessed him with a nod.
"I've returned after six months of living among the people, as you asked."
Hanuman smiled lightly. "Good. You've done well. Now rest tonight. Tomorrow, we begin what you came here for—devotion and the path beyond strength. Prepare your heart."
"Yes, Gurudev," Shon said, his voice filled with reverence.
He bowed again and made his way to the sacred pond nearby, where moonlight shimmered on still water.
He stepped in, letting the coolness wash away the tiredness of the road. His body, marked with faint scars and new strength, melted into the pond's embrace. He bathed slowly, deliberately, soaking in both the water and the feeling of coming home.
An hour later, he lay beneath the stars, the soft grass beneath him, the great banyan tree watching over him. He closed his eyes with one last whisper in his mind—Vaidehi—and drifted into a peaceful sleep.
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The Next Morning
The sun had just begun to stretch its fingers across the sky when Shon opened his eyes. His body, well-rested. His mind, calm. His spirit, eager.
He bathed, meditated for two hours, and then walked barefoot to the clearing where Lord Hanuman waited beneath a fig tree, arms crossed, eyes closed in serene thought.
"Good morning, Gurudev," Shon greeted.
Hanuman opened his eyes slowly. "Good morning, Shon. Are you ready?"
"I am."
"Then let us begin," Hanuman said, his gaze sharp but warm.
"What is devotion?" he asked.
Shon folded his hands. "Gurudev, I believe devotion is loving or serving someone with all your heart—with faith and without selfishness."
A small smile played at Hanuman's lips.
"Good. You are almost correct," Hanuman began. "But let me show you the deeper truth."
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Lord Hanuman's Teaching
"Devotion," Hanuman said, his voice slow and steady, "is the quiet fire that burns in the heart. It lights the path when even the sun forgets to shine. In devotion, there is no ego. Only surrender."
"True devotion," he continued, "does not wait for reward. It gives. Not because it is expected to, but because it cannot help but give. Rituals mean little without sincerity. Real devotion needs no audience."
"Where logic ends, devotion begins. And when the world grows silent... that is when the divine speaks."
Shon's eyes didn't blink. Every word felt like truth shaping itself.
"Devotion transforms the ordinary into sacred," Hanuman continued. "Even a single drop of it can carry more power than oceans of knowledge."
Then, Hanuman stood.
"Now tell me, Shon. Who is the one you choose to give your devotion to? Who is your source of surrender?"
Shon didn't hesitate.
"Mahadev," he said. "Lord Shiva. He is my ishtadev. My soul belongs to him."
Hanuman nodded with great approval.
"Well chosen," he said. "But there is more."
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The Power of a Word
"In devotion," Hanuman said, "you must choose a word. A sound. A breath that becomes your prayer."
"For me, it is 'Ram.' Not just the lord himself—but the very word. I draw power not only from my lord's name, but from the word that carries him. I can face anything because the word 'Ram' burns brighter inside me than any fear."
"Even when I fought against Lord Ram himself—I drew strength not from ego, but from devotion to the name."
Now Hanuman looked Shon in the eyes.
"So tell me—what is your word?"
Shon bowed.
"My word is OM (ॐ). The sacred vibration. The origin of Mahadev himself. The sound that holds the universe and ends with stillness. It is my truth, my call, my bond to him."
The trees stirred gently.
The mountain seemed to pause.
And Hanuman smiled once again. "Good. Very good."
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The Test Begins
"Now," Hanuman said, "you must awaken the word."
"You must chant it—not just from your lips, but from your soul. You must call out to your Mahadev not with sound, but with spirit."
He pointed to the banyan tree near the pond.
"Sit there. Go into samadhi. Chant your word. If your devotion is real, the word will awaken. And through it—you will awaken power beyond comprehension."
"But know this—connecting with the divine is not a task of pride. It is the highest form of humility. If your heart is not pure, you may fail."
Shon bowed deeply. "I understand, Gurudev. And I accept."
With steady steps, he walked to the banyan tree. He sat, cross-legged, back straight, palms on knees, facing the rising sun.
He closed his eyes.
And he began:
"ॐ... ॐ... ॐ... ॐ... ॐ..."
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As he chanted, the forest quieted.
The birds stopped singing. The leaves stopped rustling.
The wind listened.
And Shon, the boy who was once just another soul in a crowded world, now sat unmoving like the mountain itself.
Every breath pulled the sacred sound deeper into his being. Every repetition stripped away fear, doubt, and thought.
And somewhere between one chant and the next—
something shifted.
A warmth began to build at the center of his chest.
A light—not one he could see with his eyes, but one he could feel with his very soul.
And from that light...
Power.
Not wild or uncontrollable. Not explosive or dramatic.
But silent. Eternal. Divine.
Shon felt it rise within him—not like lightning, but like truth. Like a memory he had always carried but had forgotten.
And in that moment...
Shon became not just a disciple.
Not just a warrior.
But a vessel.
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From a boy cast into a river to escape death…
To a suta's son raised in love…
To a student shaped by gods…
Shon was no longer just a child of fate.
He was now walking the path that would one day shake the heavens.
And at the root of it all—
was a word.
ॐ
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