Silent Faith

Some stories don’t belong to books.

They live in pauses during long conversations, in temple corners, or in the way our grandparents say things that sound like riddles but are secretly answers.

There’s one such story — part folklore, part lesson.

It’s about Arjun. And Bhim. And stale flowers.

Arjun used to proudly call himself a devotee of Lord Shiva. He had a routine: wake early, chant, offer flowers — a whole checklist of devotion.

Bhim, on the other hand, liked sleeping in and eating well. So Arjun, being Arjun, would often taunt him —

“You never pray. You just eat and sleep. You can’t call yourself a devotee like me.”

Bhim didn’t argue. He rarely did.

One day, Krishna decided Arjun needed a little perspective. He took him on a quiet walk — through forests, snow, and silence — all the way to Mount Kailash, the home of Lord Shiva.

There, they stood in front of a Shivling. At its base was a mountain of fresh, fragrant flowers.

“These,” Krishna said, “are Bhim’s offerings.”

Arjun was confused. “But... I only ever saw him sleep.”

Krishna looked at him and said, “He doesn’t chant with his mouth. He offers through his actions. His life, his service, his love — all of it reaches Shiva.”

Arjun thought of his own flowers — offered out of habit. Sometimes stale. Sometimes rushed.

He understood.

I guess it’s a gentle reminder that devotion and love aren’t always loud. They don’t have to be constant reminders.

They don’t always wear a label or follow a script.

Sometimes it looks like showing up quietly.

Even in friendships, it’s not always about the loudest, stale cheers — but about being there during the lows, quietly carrying your people through the wins, and staying for the whole ride.