The sages, their hearts still stirring from Sutji’s tale, leaned closer. “O wise one,” they asked, “you’ve shown a path for those too weary to listen, sing, or think. But why is Shivji alone worshipped in both lingam and form, unlike other gods?”
Sutji’s smile was gentle, his eyes reflecting Shivji’s boundless grace. “Dear Learned Sages,” he replied, “worshipping Shivji’s lingam or form
opens his embrace to all, with or without deep practice. Yet your question touches his mystery-let me share a story that reveals why.
For those who find listening, singing, or contemplating heavy,” Sutji said, “Shivji offers a simpler way: honour his lingam or form with love. A flower, a lamp, a quiet prayer-offered sincerely, these weave the thread of liberation, as countless souls have found freedom through such devotion.”
Long ago, on Mandarachal’s sacred slopes, Sanat Kumar, radiant as dawn, sought Nandikeshwar, Shivji’s devoted guardian. “O wise one,” he asked, “why is Shivji alone worshipped as both lingam and form, while other gods are known only through form?”
Nandikeshwar’s voice was steady, like a river meeting the sea. “Shivji is the boundless Brahman-formless, yet ever-present in form. The lingam is his infinite truth, beyond all shape or name; his form is his grace, near to every heart. Other gods, bound by their roles, are worshipped in form alone, but Shivji holds all-eternal and intimate.”
To illuminate this, Nandikeshwar shared a timeless tale: In an ancient age, Brahma and Vishnu, each claiming supremacy, clashed with pride. Shivji arose as an endless pillar of light to humble them-a lingam vast as creation, its bounds unseen. Brahma soared above, Vishnu dove below, yet neither found its edge.
In awe, they bowed, and their pride dissolved. “You are all,” they said. From that moment, Shivji’s worship as lingam-formless, infinite-and form-gracious, near-began. Other gods offer blessings through form, but Shivji’s lingam and form grant both the
joys of life and the peace of liberation.
Sutji’s voice glowed, as if whispering Shivji’s grace: “My lingam is my essence, my form, my love-together, they cradle every seeker. No heart is too small, no offering too simple. Through devotion, I am yours, guiding you home.”
The sages sat in stillness, their question answered not by words, but by the light of Shivji’s boundless embrace.
In the Shivling, as the formless source, seekers ind His vastness-unbound, eternal, and ininite. In the vigraha, he takes a form and we meet His nearness-gentle, accessible, and deeply human. He is both silence and song, vastness and closeness, the unknowable and the beloved.
Such dual worship is not a contradiction-it is Shivji’s compassion. For some, a stone with no features awakens the deepest stillness. For others, a face illed with kindness anchors their prayer. Shivji honors both paths.
To light a diya at the base of a Shivling, or to place lowers at his feet in a temple-each becomes sacred when offered with bhav, the feeling of love. What matters is not the shape of the deity, but the sincerity of the heart.
In this, Shivji teaches the deepest truth: God meets us where we are.
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