(The Stick That Struck All)

In a timeless forest, under the silent gaze of stars,The Lord Shiva sat in deep meditation—Still as the mountains, vast as the sky

In a land where the Vaigai weaves through stone and prayer,
Madurai breathed the rhythm of kings and saints.

The river rose, wild with monsoon rage,
And the king, a ruler of dharma and decree,
Commanded: “Let every household shoulder the earth.”

Vandhi, old and alone,
Sold puttu from a clay stove.
Her voice trembled—not with age, but helplessness.
No sons to send, no kin to call—only
faith folded into each grain of steamed Puttu.

Then He came—
A boy, barefoot and ash-smeared,
Eyes glinting with ancient play.
“Feed me your loveable puttu,” he said,
“and I shall carry your weight.”
She laughed in tears—
A deal struck in devotion.

But day after day, the boy did no work.
He lay by the river, sand untouched.
And outrage grew.
The boy was summoned.

Anger rose like the flood. The cane was raised.

And when it struck—
The palace flinched. The people cried.
Pain echoed in every spine.

The boy stood still.

“I am not this body.
I am the pulse across all forms.
Strike me—and the field ripples.
Just as twin flames remain entangled,
So too does the Self flow through all.”

The king, humbled, dropped his weapon.
What he thought was a vagrant
Was the silent core of the cosmos.

And Vandhi, shaping her steaming puttu,
Smiled faintly,
As if she had always known.

Simple narratives, often rooted in spirituality or folklore, can sometimes offer surprisingly resonant parallels with complex scientific concepts like quantum entanglement. It suggests a deeper, perhaps intuitive, understanding of interconnectedness that transcends the boundaries of specific disciplines.