📍 Library Tun Razak, Ipoh
🕛 11:30 AM
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Few years ago...
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I was desperate to know more about the symbol from my dreams. Every free moment I had, I spent in the public library. It became my second home - where I finished assignments, surfed the Internet, and, most importantly, searched for answers.
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One afternoon, after hours of digging online, I stumbled upon something. The same symbol appeared in a reference to an old Tamil storybook. My pulse quickened. Could it be the same one haunting my dreams?
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The librarian sitting nearby glanced at my screen and said quietly, "I've seen that book here before."
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Without wasting a second, I followed his directions and found it.
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The title was Vishvara.
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The book looked ancient, its brown cover rough and worn with time. Strange carvings decorated the edges, unlike anything I had seen before. When I ran my fingers across them, a shiver rushed through my body - a strange, mysterious energy, as though the book itself was alive.
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I opened it.
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The pages told stories of the great Hindu deities - Lord Shiva and Lord Vishnu - their battles to protect the world, their struggles against forces of darkness. I read about The Battle of Tripurasura, The Churning of the Ocean of Poison, and The War Against Arakan.
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With each story, I felt something strange stir inside me. Goosebumps spread across my skin. My heart pounded with pride, fear, and a strange sense of belonging. It was more than reading - it was as if I was witnessing the battles, standing at the edge of history.
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But something was odd. The book had no author's name. No publisher. No date. Just a relic of mystery.
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And then, midway, I found pages that were blank. Completely empty.
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Frustrated but curious, I closed the book. It didn't give me the answers I wanted about my nightmares. Not yet.
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That night, after returning home from the temple, I picked it up again. I flipped through the empty pages over and over, hoping for something I missed.
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And then - it happened.
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A tiny bit of kumkum from my forehead slipped onto one of the blank pages. To my shock, faint letters began to appear where the red powder had fallen.
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My breath caught.
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I rubbed more kumkum across the page, and words revealed themselves like secrets waking from centuries of sleep. Every blank page came alive, filled with text.
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But it wasn't Tamil.
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It was Sanskrit - the most ancient language of all.
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And now, if I wanted the truth, I had to find someone who could help me translate it.
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and then Add to home screen.