Meeting Skanda, the Ascetic

Check out the theme here: A Retelling of Valli and Karttikeya’s Love Story

This post is a part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026.

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Valli focused on her activities once the hunter left. She was partly relieved and partly sad about it. She had enjoyed talking to him. It wasn’t often that she could meet someone who traveled to many places and shared interesting stories with her. Though her brothers told her many things, none of them had gone beyond a few nearby villages, including her father and grandfather. They had no reason to do so when everything was available around them. However, she was rather tired of him trying to convince her that he was Skanda, the deva himself.

Not that he wouldn’t come to the earth to meet her. Valli was sure Skanda would visit this world and carry her away when it was time.

What if he came in disguise, a part of her had whispered?

If he did, he would have revealed his true form. Since he didn’t, Valli decided she wouldn’t second-guess anything. If he came once, he would come again.

Not more than an hour had passed since Valli said this to herself when Skanda walked toward her millet field dressed as an old Shiva bhakt. With grey hair and bread covering most of his face, he was a seventy-year-old sadhu, an ascetic who mediated on Shiva. His tiger-skin wrap, the ash-smeared body, a walking stick, and an empty begging bowl make him look like Shiva himself, if the deva aged a few decades in human years.

“O child!” he called loudly to catch her attention.

Valli looked up from her needlework and set it aside, standing to welcome the ascetic.

“Welcome, Svami. Welcome to Merpati village.”

He gave her a crooked-tooth smile. “May Rudra grant your heart’s desires, child.”

“Please accept my humble offerings, Svami. My family will be here soon with the lunch basket,” Valli said. She poured water from the earthen pot as he washed his feet, hands, and face.

She spread the half-made blanket on the floor after removing the needle from it. “Sit on this, please.”

However, Skanda set it aside. “I am a sadhu, child. This earth is my seat, throne, and deathbed. I have no use for such fine cloth.”

“Please tell me, Svami. Where do you come from?”

“I come from the Himalayas, traveling nonstop to reach the end of the land. Something in your village has called to me. It was as if Shiva had told me to stop and walk toward the field. I obeyed his orders, and having seen you, I understand what he wants me to do.”

Before Valli could ask him to clarify his statement, her father and brothers arrived, laughing and talking as always. They were surprised to see a Shaiva sadhu sitting under the shade with Valli, but greeted him with the same respect as she had.

“Accept our humble offerings, Svami,” Nampi, Valli’s father, said, placing a fresh leaf in front of the ascetic and scooping millet porridge onto it.

Skanda nodded, pleased with their response. Valli poured a generous amount of honey to sweeten the porridge, while one of her brothers filled an earthen tumbler with cool buttermilk and set it to the side of the leaf.

They prayed to Annapoorna devi, thanking her for the food before taking the first bite.

“Your meal is as wonderful as your hospitality,” Skanda said to them.

Nampi beamed with satisfaction and bowed his head. “Bless us, Svami, especially my children.”

“May all your deepest wishes be granted. Why is it that your eldest son is unmarried yet? Why is he not a grihasta, sharing your burden?”

“He will wed in the monsoon, Svami. In fact, my first and second sons are getting married to sisters at the same time. Will you be here until then to bless them?” Nampi answered as the men blushed a little.

“Wherever I am, you will have my blessings. Your grihasta lives will be fulfilling,” Skanda replied. “However, I have a request to make. Would you grant this old sadhu some space on your farm to rest for a few days?”

Nampi agreed immediately. “It’s an honor, Svami. Valli will take care of you.”

Skanda nodded, satisfied with the developments. Indeed, being an old sadhu was working better than being a hunter.