The Sacred Linga

---

The Sacred Linga

In the quiet village of Sonapara, nestled deep in rural Bengal, the people had always been simple folk—farmers, artisans, and devout worshippers of Lord Shiva. One day in 1943, during the height of World War II, the village experienced a terror they could scarcely understand. Japanese planes, engaged in bombing raids against the British forces in India, flew over Bengal. The air raids were part of Japan’s strategy to weaken the British Empire by attacking their colonies in the East. As bombs rained down on nearby cities and strategic installations, one plane dropped an unexploded ordnance that went unnoticed in the rural expanse of Sonapara.

It was several months after the bombing that an old farmer, Jadu, discovered a strange, heavy object half-buried in the soil while plowing his fields. The object was smooth, metallic, and shaped like a perfect Shiva Linga. To Jadu, it was not a bomb but a divine sign—a gift from Lord Shiva himself.

The object was carried to the village with great reverence. Without fully understanding its origins, the villagers built a small temple around it, worshipping it as a manifestation of Lord Shiva's presence. In the years that followed, Sonapara grew prosperous, and the villagers believed it was the blessings of this newfound deity that had kept them safe from harm during the war. As time passed, the origin of the mysterious object faded from memory, and only the stories of its divine nature remained.

---

Years went by, and the world changed around Sonapara, though the village stayed much the same. One of the village’s sons, Anil, had left to study in Kolkata, eventually becoming a respected scientist with expertise in metallurgy and explosives. His education opened his eyes to many things, but one mystery stayed with him from his childhood—the “Shiva Linga” in the village temple.

During one of his visits back home, Anil decided to examine the Linga more closely. Something about its weight, shape, and material had always bothered him. After discreetly testing a sample of the outer shell, Anil’s worst suspicions were confirmed—it wasn’t a stone linga at all. It was an unexploded bomb, likely left over from the Japanese air raids of the 1940s.

His heart raced as he sat in his room that night, knowing the immense danger his village was unknowingly facing. The bomb could still be live, and with corrosion from decades of exposure to the elements, it might leak explosives or, worse, detonate unexpectedly.

The next morning, Anil approached his father, Mukunda, who was also the temple's head priest.

“Baba,” he said cautiously, “I need to talk to you about something serious. That linga in the temple… it’s not what you think it is.”

Mukunda frowned. “What do you mean? We’ve worshipped that linga for years. The village has prospered under its blessings.”

Anil took a deep breath. “I’ve studied it, Baba. It’s not a linga, it’s an old bomb—probably dropped by the Japanese during the war. It’s dangerous. The outer shell is corroding, and it could explode.”

Mukunda’s face darkened. “What nonsense are you speaking, Anil? You’ve been living in the city too long. This is Shiva’s blessing! The whole village believes that.”

Anil sighed, realizing that convincing his father, let alone the whole village, would be nearly impossible. The linga had become too deeply entrenched in their belief system. He tried again, more urgently, “Baba, please listen to me. If it explodes, it could destroy the entire village. I don’t want to challenge your faith, but we must remove it.”

Mukunda stood firm. “You’ll not spread this madness here. This is our Lord; questioning him is blasphemy.”

---

Knowing that arguing would be futile, Anil made up his mind to take matters into his own hands. His first plan was to steal the bomb and dispose of it safely, but he quickly realized that the temple was too heavily guarded by the ever-watchful villagers. They would never let him get close to the linga without causing suspicion. And besides, removing it could trigger the explosion.

Then an idea struck him.

The villagers were convinced the linga was divine—what if he replaced it with something that looked exactly the same, only safe? After a few days of research and discreet conversations with metalworkers in Kolkata, Anil found a solution: a silver replica of the linga. It would be heavy, shiny, and almost identical to the bomb in shape, but harmless. He commissioned the replica, using his savings to fund the work.

Returning to Sonapara, Anil enacted his plan with careful precision. One night, when the village was asleep, he sneaked into the temple with a few trusted friends from the city. Using special tools, they carefully removed the corroding bomb and replaced it with the new silver linga. The bomb was transported far from the village and safely detonated by authorities Anil had alerted.

The next morning, as the villagers gathered for their daily prayers, Anil stepped forward with a proclamation.

“Baba, and all of you, listen!” he said, raising his voice over the murmurs of the crowd. “The Lord has shown his approval of our devotion. The linga has transformed overnight—it is now silver, a symbol of purity. Lord Shiva has blessed us with this gift.”

Mukunda and the villagers gasped as they saw the gleaming silver linga. Murmurs of awe and reverence rippled through the crowd.

“But,” Anil added, “the Lord has given us one instruction—to keep this linga polished and pure. We must clean it regularly to maintain its blessings.”

The villagers were overjoyed. Mukunda too, though perplexed, saw it as a divine miracle. He thanked his son for bringing the news to the village.

---

From that day forward, the villagers of Sonapara dutifully polished their silver linga, unaware that their faith had saved them from potential disaster. As the years passed, Anil visited often, each time grateful that he had protected his village, not only from an explosive past but from the power of blind belief. He had, in his own way, preserved their faith and their lives.

And the secret of the bomb was buried with him.

Note

I have attended Shastra Puja being performed of weapons like swords,rifles, pistols during Navami by the security forces of Wanakbori thermal Power plant of Gujarat. So unknowingly the villagers were doing Shastra Puja as it was an exploded bomb.

---

---