The Day Shiva Went Hungry

Shiva said food doesn't matter. Annapurna disappeared. The whole world starved. He came to her with a begging bowl.

On a quiet evening on Mount Kailash, Shiva tries to teach Parvati a lesson. He says food is just an illusion, that hunger is not real, that nobody really needs to eat. To show him how wrong he is, Parvati disappears from the world. The whole earth begins to starve. Shiva, the greatest yogi of all, walks into the city of Kashi with a begging bowl in his hand. There at last he meets her again as Annapurna, the goddess of food, and bows before her.

A Quiet Argument on Mount Kailash

It was a soft evening on Mount Kailash. The sun was going down behind the snowy peaks. The pine trees swayed gently. Up in the clouds, Shiva sat in deep meditation as he often did, his eyes half closed, his long hair piled up like a mountain of its own.

His wife Parvati sat beside him, kindly stirring a pot of warm rice for their evening meal.

Shiva opened one eye and watched her cook. He smiled in a teasing way.

"Parvati," he said softly. "Why do you take so much trouble for this rice?"

Parvati looked up and laughed. "Because we are about to eat it, my Lord."

"Eat," said Shiva, and waved his hand like the word was a small fly. "Eating is just an illusion. The body is an illusion. Food is an illusion. Hunger is an illusion. The wise person knows that nothing of this matters. The whole world is maya, a dream."

Parvati stopped stirring.

She was a goddess. She was the daughter of the mountains. She was the mother of all things that grow. She knew that her husband was the greatest yogi in all the worlds, and that he was right about many things.

But he was wrong about this.

"My Lord," she said, very gently, "food is not just an illusion. The whole world is held together by it. The farmer wakes up before sunrise to plant rice because food is real. The mother rocks her hungry baby because hunger is real. The cow eats grass, the bee drinks nectar, the deer grazes the leaves. Without food, there is no body. Without a body, there is no chance to even know yourself. Food is not maya. Food is life."

Shiva chuckled. "My dear, you have been spending too much time with the cooking pots. Food is just food. Try going without it for one whole day, and you will see. The world goes on. The yogis go on. Nothing changes."

Parvati looked at him for a long moment.

He had not meant to be unkind. He really believed what he said. But there are some things that even the greatest god needs to be shown, not told.

She set down her ladle.

"Very well, my Lord. Let us see."

And she vanished.

A World Without Food

When Parvati disappeared, something strange happened.

It did not happen on Kailash, where Shiva still sat with his eyes half closed, smiling to himself. "She will be back by morning," he thought.

It happened down on the earth.

The rice in the pot stopped cooking. The fire under it lost its warmth. The grain in every farmer's barn turned dry and tasteless. The fruit on every tree shrivelled. The cows gave thin, watery milk. The bees forgot how to make honey.

It was as if the goddess of food had taken her hand off the world. And without her hand, there was no food anywhere.

For one day, people did not notice. They had food in their kitchens.

For a second day, the children began to cry. "Amma, my tummy hurts."

For a third day, the cooking pots in every home in Bharat sat cold and empty.

Mothers wept. Fathers held their babies and walked from house to house asking for food, but every house was the same. The grain in the storerooms had turned to dust. The fruit on the trees had become wood. Even the fish in the rivers had vanished.

For the first time in the history of the world, the whole earth knew what hunger really was.

A King Without Strength, a Cow Without Milk

The rishis tried their hardest. They sat by their fire pits and chanted. They poured ghee and rice grains into the flames. "Oh gods, please send food. Please feed our children."

But the gods themselves had no food.

Indra, the king of the gods, lifted his thunderbolt and his arms were too weak to swing it. Surya, the sun god, drove his chariot more slowly than usual. Even Brahma, the creator, sat in his lotus too tired to think.

A mother in a small village sat outside her hut. Her baby was wailing. She had nothing left, not a single grain of rice. She looked up at the sky and whispered.

"O Mother. Wherever you are. Please come back."

Up on Kailash, Shiva, the greatest yogi of all, was sitting in meditation as usual. He was not eating. He was not feeling hungry. He thought to himself, "See. I told her. I am perfectly fine."

But then he opened his eyes.

He looked down at the earth.

And he saw.

The forests were brown. The rivers had no fish jumping. The cows lay on the ground, too weak to stand. The children were crying everywhere. He could hear their cries even from up on his mountain.

Shiva's heart, which is the kindest heart in all the worlds, broke into a thousand pieces.

"What have I done?" he whispered.

A God With a Begging Bowl

Shiva stood up. He took off his great snake. He folded away his trident. He took off the moon from his hair. He took off everything that made him look like a god.

He put on the simple cloth of a wandering monk. In his hand, he picked up a small wooden begging bowl.

And he came down from Kailash.

He walked through the dying forests. He walked past the empty huts. He walked past the cows lying still on the ground. His own feet ached with hunger now, because even Shiva had finally begun to feel what every other being in the world was feeling.

He walked all the way to the holy city of Kashi, on the banks of the Ganga.

There, in the middle of the city, by a great old temple, he saw something.

A huge open kitchen. Smoke rising. Pots of fragrant rice. Vessels of dal. Mountains of vegetables. The smell of food filled the streets. People were lining up, hungry mothers with hungry children, and at the front of the line, ladling out hot food into every bowl, was a beautiful woman with a kind face and a soft smile.

She wore a red and gold saree. Her hair was tied up. In one hand, she held a golden ladle. In the other, a great bowl of rice that never seemed to get empty.

It was Parvati.

Not the Parvati who lived on Kailash. Not Parvati the wife. Today, she was something more.

She was Annapurna. The goddess of food. The mother who feeds all of the world.

Shiva walked slowly to the front of the line. He held out his little begging bowl in his two hands.

The whole street went quiet.

Annapurna looked at him. There were tears in his eyes. There were tears in hers too.

She smiled. And she lifted her ladle and poured warm fragrant rice into his bowl.

Shiva closed his eyes. He brought the bowl to his lips. He took the first bite.

It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

For a long moment, he could not speak. The greatest yogi of all the worlds simply stood there in the street of Kashi, with rice on his lips, and tears running down his face.

Then he bowed. The great Lord Shiva bowed his head before his own wife.

"You were right, Mother. I was wrong. Food is not maya. Food is the kindest thing the world has. The body that eats it is real. The hunger that asks for it is real. And the hand that gives it is the most holy hand of all."

Parvati smiled and gently lifted his face.

"My Lord, you teach the world about the soul. Let me teach the world about the body. Together, we will care for both."

From that day, the rice came back. The fruit came back. The cows gave thick warm milk again. The children laughed again.

And from that day, Annapurna stayed in Kashi forever. She is still there. She still ladles out food in her great kitchen. And to this day, in her temple, no one is ever turned away hungry.

Why a Goddess Has a Ladle

Most goddesses you see in pictures hold weapons. Durga has a sword. Kali has a knife. Saraswati has a veena.

Annapurna holds a ladle.

That ladle is one of the most powerful things in the universe. With it, she fed even Shiva. With it, she keeps the whole world alive. Every mother who cooks for her family carries a little piece of Annapurna's ladle in her own hand. Every grandfather who drops a few grains for the birds carries it too. Every cook in every temple, every tiffin-amma at every school, every vendor handing out plates of food on a long train journey.

Food given with love is the holiest thing of all. That is what Annapurna teaches us. And that is why Shiva, the great yogi who can sit on a mountain forever without eating, finally bowed his head before her.

In Your Life

The next time your Amma puts a plate of food in front of you, look at it for one extra second before you eat. Somebody grew the rice. Somebody picked the vegetables. Somebody lit the fire. Somebody chose the spices. Somebody stood at the stove. Somebody scooped it onto your plate. So many hands, so much love, just so that you could be fed.

Do not complain about the food. Do not throw it. Do not say "I do not like this." without trying it first. The food on your plate is Annapurna's gift to you, passed through every one of those hands.

And if you ever see a child or an animal that is hungry, share what you have. Even one biscuit. Even half of your sandwich. Even a little dal poured into a small bowl. That moment, your hand becomes Annapurna's hand. And the universe remembers it forever.