Rishikesh - the town where the Ganga whispered to the mountains and the mountains whispered back.
Sadhus bathed in the sacred waters. Pilgrims lit lamps with trembling fingers. Foreigners searched
for peace in the air thick with incense. But for Kartik, 20 years old and two decades tired of gods, it
was just another place pretending to be holy.
From the outside, he looked like any other college student visiting his hometown during break -
black T-shirt, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder, a little sarcastic, a little too quiet. But
beneath it all was a boy raised in the land of gods, who had decided long ago that gods weren't
worth believing in.
Because they weren't there when it mattered.
Kartik had lost both his parents in a temple stampede during a festival when he was just eleven.
They had gone to offer prayers. All that returned was a pair of bloodstained shoes and ashes no one dared to explain.
Since then, he had lived with his grandfather, a retired priest who spent his mornings chanting
Sanskrit verses and his evenings staring into the sacred fire like it held the answers to the world.
Kartik never asked questions anymore.
"You don't understand," Kartik once told his grandfather. "They died praying to a god who did
nothing."
The old man didn't argue. He just lit another diya.
But recently... something had changed.
Kartik had started feeling like he wasn't alone, even when no one was around. He'd wake up at night drenched in sweat, heart racing, convinced someone was staring right through him. And sometimes - only sometimes - he would see an eye.
Just one.
Not on a person.
Not even in a dream.
A vertical blue eye, floating in the dark, like Shiva's third eye half-open in the sky. He'd blink, and it would be gone. But the feeling never left.
It was supposed to be a fun escape -
Kartik's college friends had planned a weekend trip in the forested hills near Devprayag - close to where the Alaknanda and Bhagirathi rivers met. It was hot, but the excitement of being out of class
and away from signal towers made everyone feel alive.
On the second day, someone found a narrow trail leading deeper into the hills. They followed it for fun, laughing, recording videos - until the path led to a hidden cave, half-covered by overgrown
vines and moss.
It was strangely quiet inside.
No birds. No wind. Just a dull warmth, like a closed room breathing.
Inside, at the very heart of the cave, stood a massive black stone, smoothed by time and untouched by nature. It rose from the ground like a natural formation but held a shape too intentional - rounded,
sacred, still.
"Dude... is that a Shivling?"
"How is this even here? It's burning hot in here - but this thing's cold."
They weren't wrong. The air in the cave was thick and humid, but the stone was cold to the touch, as if it belonged to another world.
"Kartik!" someone shouted. "You're the local. Touch it. You won't get cursed, right?"
He hesitated.
But the challenge in their eyes - and the pressure of pretending he wasn't scared - pushed him
forward.
"It's just a rock," he muttered, and placed his hand on it.
Everything went black.
He didn't feel heat or cold.
Didn't hear the gasps of his friends or the sound of his body hitting the floor.
There was only a flash of blue light, a low chant in a language he didn't know, and the distant sound of a conch shell being blown in a storm.
When Kartik woke up, his friends were splashing water on his face.
"Bro, are you okay?"
"You passed out. Probably the heat - this cave is messed up."
He nodded slowly, not trusting his voice. The cold stone. The flash. The sound. It had felt too real.
His chest ached. A dull, sharp pain - like something had been burned into him from the inside.
He didn't mention it.
Not until later that night, when they were back at the guesthouse and he was alone in the washroom mirror. That's when he took off his shirt and saw it:
A faint, almost invisible mark over his heart.
Not a bruise.
Not a rash.
A symbol - a closed eye - the same one he kept seeing in flashes.
Almost like it had moved from the sky to his body.
Kartik stared at it, breath caught in his throat.
"What the hell is happening to me...?"
The mark didn't answer. But deep in the mountains, far from where anyone could hear, something ancient had begun to stir.