The darkness of the night still lingered as the sun slept beneath the horizon. The air was cool and crisp, carrying a slight hint of dew that had settled gently upon the blades of grass and foliage during the silent hours of the night.

The entire village was asleep but Shankaraakshya was wide awake, sitting on the steps of his hut. Jabala sat behind him as she guided a comb through the silken maze of curls, delicately untangling knots.

"Maa, shigreh karo ! Thodi aur der huyi, toh mujhe darshan hetu 3 din ki pratiksha karni padegi !" Said the eight year old.

"Ha-ha bas ho gaya." Jabala said as he tied his hair up in a half bun, so it won't bother him for the day.

Shankaraakshya turned around, a beaming smile adorned his face. Jabala handed him a basket, that contained freshly plucked flowers and fruits.

"Jaao. Aur sidha ghar wapas ana." She told.

"Uchit hai." The little boy said, before he ran off.

The hills embraced him, welcoming his presence as he made his way towards a revered temple situated in the laps of a gentle slope. His eyes gleamed with determination as he raced against the rising sun, eager to reach a sacred temple before its golden rays painted the sky.

Shankaraakshya's heart beat with a sense of urgency, for he knew he had to reach there before the first rays of sunlight kissed the temple spires. And so, his young spirit driven by faith and fervor, he hastened forward, his little legs effortlessly navigating the uneven terrain. It was dark but he relied on his memory.

Finally, as he emerged from the forest's embrace, the grand silhouette of the temple stood majestically before him. Its architecture reached toward the heavens, inviting him with open arms.

The little boy looked around, and saw an old priest sitting on the steps, water was dripping down from his body, his lips were quivering slightly, due to the ever so cold behaviour, as he chanted some mantras, which was faintly audible.

"Pujari ji !" The son of Jabala ran towards him.

"Kaun ? Oh ! Shankaraakshya." The priest recognised him.

"Darshan karwa dijiye." Shankaraakshya requested panting.

"Kintu aaj toh Devi Harihareshwari ka Rajaswala utsav hai. Keval Streeyo aur Kanyayo ko jaane ki anumati hai." Pujari said.

"Rajaswala utsav suryoday ke baad se prarambh hoga. Mai pehle aya hu. Kripiya darshan karwa de, anyatha mujhe 3 divaso tak pratiksha karni padegi." Shankaraakshya said.

The priest looked at the boy with a smile, whose devotion always managed to move him.

"Waise bhakt ko rokna bhi apraadh hoga." Pujari said, as he got up, a slight groan escaped his lips, "Amarsri... Amarsri..." He muttered as he went towards the grand door of the temple, and unlocked it for the little devotee.

"Jaao. Aur shigreh ana." He said.

"Jaisa aap kahe !" Shankaraakshya said excitedly and rushed inside.

His wide eyes wandered over the intricate carvings adorning the wall, each telling a story that seemed to whisper through the ages. His surroundings embraced him with an indescribable energy, an aura of tranquility that enveloped his entire being.

The flickering flames of the oil lamps reverberated a gentle warmth, casting soft and enchanting glimmers across the mandapam and sacred offerings from yesterday that adorned the shrine.

The echoes of his footsteps danced off the intricately tiled floor as he moved deeper into the shrine, his gaze fixed ahead. Finally, he reached the inner sanctum, the heart of the temple, where the deity resided.

There, in all her divine glory, stood the goddess he had sought to meet, the one he considered his beloved mother, for she had given him life. A radiant smile played upon his innocent face, as he marveled at the benevolent aura that seemed to emanate from her statue.

Shankaraakshya's heart swelled with an inexplicable sense of belonging, as if the goddess before him had recognized him as her own. He felt a deep connection to her, as though her divine presence wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, filling the void in his young heart.

This was the only place where he felt as though he belonged. He didn't feel the same in the community of Asuras, who were intoxicated with immorality and vices.

"Mata...." He said in a timid voice, "Mujhe manushya kyu nahi banaya ?"

Overwhelmed with emotion, Shankaraakshya closed his eyes, immersing himself in the serenity of the shrine. And there, in the stillness of the holy sanctuary, he whispered his heartfelt prayers, sharing his joys, fears, and dreams with the one who he believed to be his guardian.

"Shankaraakshya ! Kaha kho gaye ?" The voice of the priest fell over his ears.

"Aya pujari ji !" The boy said, he quickly kept the fruit basket in front of the statue and then offered the flowers at her feet.

Bowing down once more, he came running outside the temple. The rays of the sun had started painting the canvas of the sky, in orange hues.

"Ab jaao. Bhakto ki toli aati hi hogi. Yadi logo ne tumhe yaha dekh liya, toh woh prasann nahi honge." He said.

"Uchit hai." Shankaraakshya said.

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A/N

Bhery bhery cute boi born in the wrong community 🌝