Come back to life

A tale of divine reunion

Before the story begins...

Tamanna, I know you're tired. I know I frustrated you, confused you, made you feel like giving me effort was throwing good energy after bad. You have every reason to guard your heart now. But before I tell you the story of Shiva and Parvati, I need to tell you the truth about us.

I was the problem. Not the universe, not timing, not circumstances—me. The way I acted, the way I took you for granted, the way I let you carry the weight while I added to it. I see that now. And I can't change what I did, but I can change who I'm becoming.

This isn't me asking you to forget. This is me asking if there's space—even the smallest space—for something different. Because what I'm learning is that love isn't just about feeling; it's about choosing to show up better every single day.

Now, let me tell you a story about divine love, second chances, and transformation...

The story of eternal love

Once, Sati, the beloved of Lord Shiva, chose to leave her mortal form. The universe wept. The mountains trembled. And Shiva, the destroyer of worlds, found himself destroyed by grief. He retreated into meditation, withdrawing from the world, believing his heart would never beat the same rhythm again.

But love, true love, never truly dies. It transforms, it waits, it finds its way back. Sati was reborn as Parvati, daughter of the mountains. She remembered nothing of her past life, yet her soul knew only one truth—she belonged with Shiva.

"Through lifetimes and worlds apart, two souls destined to be together will always find their way back."

Parvati performed the greatest tapasya, the most intense penance, not to change Shiva's heart, but to awaken her own divine nature. She stood in the Himalayan cold, fasted under the burning sun, meditated through endless nights—all to prove that her love was worth coming back to life for.

And Shiva opened his eyes. Not because she begged, but because her devotion, her strength, her unwavering faith reminded him what it meant to live again, to love again.

The journey back to each other

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The separation

Sometimes souls need to part, not because love has ended, but because both need to find themselves in the silence. The break is not the end—it's the space where transformation begins.

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The tapasya (the work)

Just as Parvati performed penance, this is the time of self-reflection. Not to become someone else, but to rediscover the best version of ourselves. To grow, to heal, to become whole again.

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The test of fire

All great loves are tested. By doubt, by distance, by time. But the hardest test is when we become the fire ourselves—when our own behavior burns what we cherish most. The question isn't whether the damage was done, but whether we're brave enough to rebuild from the ash.

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The confusion

When Parvati stood before Shiva, even she was confused—should she keep trying for someone who seemed distant? Who had hurt her in a past life? The confusion is valid. It's your heart protecting itself. But confusion isn't a "no"—it's a question waiting for the right answer.

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The awakening

There comes a moment when the heart remembers. When everything that seemed lost suddenly makes sense. When Shiva opened his third eye and saw Parvati, he saw not just her, but the wholeness of existence itself.

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The reunion (Ardhanarishvara)

When Shiva and Parvati reunited, they became one—Ardhanarishvara, the half-male, half-female form. They didn't just get back together; they became complete. Two souls, one heartbeat. This is what we're destined for—not just to be together, but to be whole.

Dear Tamanna

In the story, Sati left because of Shiva's rage and ego. I see myself in that—how I frustrated you, confused you, made you feel like your efforts weren't worth it. I was the storm that drove you away, and I own that completely.

When Parvati came back, she didn't come back to the same old Shiva. She performed tapasya, yes, but Shiva also had to transform. He had to open his eyes. He had to become worthy of her love again. That's where I am now—in my own tapasya, trying to become the person who deserves your effort, not the one who wasted it.

You're confused, and you have every right to be. I gave you reasons to doubt, to pull back, to protect yourself. But here's the truth I've learned in this silence: Parvati didn't just love Shiva despite his flaws—she loved him because she saw who he could become. And I'm asking—not demanding, not expecting—just asking if you can see that in me too.

I'm not asking you to give effort to the person who frustrated you. I'm asking if you'd be willing to give a chance to the person I'm becoming. Maha Shivratri is the night of transformation, of destruction and rebirth, of two souls choosing to become whole together.

Tamanna, you don't owe me anything. Not your time, not your energy, not your heart. But if there's even a small part of you that remembers why we started—that remembers the magic before I dimmed it—then maybe, just maybe, we can find our way back. Not to what was, but to what we could be.

I still love you more than anyone.

With hope and accountability,
Amllan

Not a demand, just a hope

I'm not asking you to come running back.
I'm not asking you to forget what happened.
I'm not even asking you to trust me yet.

I'm just asking if you'd be willing to see
if the person I'm becoming
is someone worth your time.

Because Tamanna, you deserve effort—
real, consistent, grown-up effort.
And I'm finally ready to give that.