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The Twelve Jyotirlingas · Chapter 7

Bhimashankar: Where the Bhima Rises

In the forested Sahyadri hills, near the source of the Bhima river, tradition remembers Shiva as the protector who answered a desperate prayer.

1 November 20263 min readFeature
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The story

Bhimashankar is most widely identified with a temple high in the Sahyadri range, the western hills of Maharashtra, north-west of Pune. The river Bhima, which flows east across the Deccan to join the Krishna, is traditionally said to rise here, and the shrine takes its name from the river and from Shankara, a name of Shiva meaning 'the one who brings peace'.

The story most often told is preserved in the Shiva Purana and retold in local tradition. It concerns an asura named Bhima, said in this telling to be the son of Kumbhakarna, Ravana's giant brother. Grown to manhood, Bhima learned how his father had been killed by Rama, and he set out to avenge him. Through long austerity he won great power, and with it he overran the earth, troubling sages and kings alike.

Among those he imprisoned was a king devoted to Shiva, often named as Sudakshina or Priyadharma in different retellings, who continued his worship even in captivity, fashioning a linga and praying before it. When Bhima discovered this and raised his sword against the linga, Shiva appeared from it and destroyed the asura. The sages and the gods then asked Shiva to remain in that place for the protection of all, and he stayed as Bhimashankar.

A second strand of tradition connects the place with the destruction of Tripura, the three cities of the asuras, which we told on Kartika Purnima. In this telling Shiva rested here after that battle, and the sweat of his exertion became the river Bhima. Both stories are told locally, sometimes together; neither cancels the other.

Symbols and iconography

The linga at Bhimashankar, like several of the jyotirlingas, is described as svayambhu, 'self-manifested': not carved by human hands but understood to have arisen of itself. Devotees often note that it sits low in the sanctum, so that worshippers look down into it rather than up at it.

The heart of the story is a linga made by a prisoner. One reading of this, and it is an interpretation, is that worship does not depend on a grand setting. The king's linga was improvised in captivity, yet it was there that Shiva chose to appear. The sword raised against it and the protector who answers from within it are the two poles of the tale: violence directed at devotion, and devotion that does not abandon its object.

The setting matters too. The temple stands in thick monsoon forest that is now part of a wildlife sanctuary, and the river's source among the hills gives the place its name. Many pilgrims describe the walk through the trees and mist as part of the darshan, the seeing of the sacred.

Across regions

For most devotees, Bhimashankar means the Sahyadri temple, and it is part of the Maharashtra circuit of jyotirlingas along with Trimbakeshwar, Grishneshwar and, in some lists, Aundha Nagnath and Parli Vaijnath. Pilgrims often come during Shravana, the monsoon month dedicated to Shiva, and on Maha Shivaratri, when the hill roads fill with visitors.

The identification is not uncontested. A temple near Guwahati in Assam is named by some as Bhimashankar, drawing on readings of the Puranic description that place the shrine in the Kamarupa region, and other sites have also been named in local tradition. We record these claims without choosing between them.

Because the temple is in forested hills, the climate shapes the visit: the monsoon brings dense green and heavy rain, while the cooler months are drier. Practical details change, so it is wise to check with the temple and local authorities before travelling.

For reflection today

The king in the story had nothing left but a handful of earth and his habit of prayer. He did not wait for a temple, a priest or a better day. He made what he could and kept going.

Perhaps there is something in your own life, a practice, a promise, a small daily act of care, that you have put off until conditions are right. Bhimashankar's story suggests that the right conditions may be the ones you already have.

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