Shiman lived in a little mountain village, which was lost in mist most days of the year. While many people wondered what was the cause of the mist that always surrounded Shiman’s village and the surrounding area, the elders of his tribe knew that it was their sacred protection. They believed that it was the spirits of their ancestors that caused the mist and it was like a cloak protecting the village and its inhabitants from disease, tragedy and yes, often the brutal outside world.
The most sacred of all for them was the holy rock that they could see on the mountain top that towered above their village. It was a massive crystalline rock that jutted out from the mountain, and the tribe believed that it was carved by the Gods. Shiman was always fascinated by it, his heart pined so much to touch it that sometimes the little boy would cry. But no man had ever attempted the precarious climb.
One evening when Shiman was returning home herding his father’s flock of goats, he stopped at his favourite spot from where he could get a clear view of the holy rock. He was transfixed by the sight – the crystalline surface was blazing beautifully in the golden light of the setting sun. Suddenly, he could feel the whole atmosphere change as he saw rays of light from the rock penetrating through the mist to reach him. And then, as the golden mist kept swirling around him, Shiman could feel that he, the rock and the mist had all become one.
A few hours later when Shiman had not returned home, his father along with the other villagers started a search. They found him unconscious at the spot. After regaining consciousness, he told them what had happened to him.
After that day Shiman never felt he had to climb the mountain to reach the holy rock, for he knew the one he sought was always with him. He grew up to be the spiritual leader of his tribe and also a hundred odd villages nearby. In time, he became part of tribal legends as the boy who could not reach up to the Gods, so the Gods came down to him.