Parvati's Promise

Shiva didn't notice her. She didn't give up. She meditated for years. She earned it on her own terms.

You already know Parvati. She is the one who made Ganesha out of sandalwood paste. But long before she became a mother, she had to do something really hard. She had to win the heart of Shiva, the most distant god in the universe. She did it not by changing herself, but by becoming so completely herself that even a meditating mountain god could not look away.

You Already Know Her

You already know Parvati.

She is the one from Chapter One. The mother who shaped a little boy out of sandalwood paste, gave him life, and posted him at the door of her bath. The mother of Ganesha.

But long before she was a mother, she was a young princess of the mountains. And before she was a princess, she was someone who had to do something incredibly hard. She had to earn her place beside the most difficult god in the whole universe.

This is the story of how she did it.

A Princess of the Himalayas

Her name then was Parvati, which simply means 'the daughter of the mountain.'

Her father was Himavan, the king of the Himalayas themselves. Her mother was Mena, a kind, no-nonsense queen who liked her daughters to wear jewellery and learn music and not run off into snowstorms. Parvati had two older sisters. One of them, Ganga, eventually became a river. The Himalayas were a strange family.

Parvati was the youngest. She was small, dark-haired, and quiet. She liked to climb the mountain higher than anyone else dared. She liked to sit on rocks. She liked to watch the snow melt and decide what the water would become next.

She also had a secret. From the time she was a small girl, she had decided one thing. I am going to marry Shiva.

The Most Difficult God

Now, Shiva was not an easy choice.

Shiva was the great yogi of the universe. He sat on Mount Kailasa, far above all the other mountains. He had ash smeared on his body. He wore a tiger skin. Snakes coiled around his arms. His matted hair was piled on top of his head, and from somewhere inside it, a small river called Ganga ran in a very thin stream.

He meditated. That was mostly what he did. For years at a time. With his eyes shut. Not eating. Not speaking. Not even noticing whether the sun was shining or the snow was falling.