We know the Mahabharata has many local legends woven into it, each coloured by regional culture and tradition.
Kerala, God’s own country as we call it, lies in the southern part of India—a beautiful land of swaying coconut palms, sea-washed beaches, soaring mountains, verdant forests, and lush paddy fields. It is also a land steeped in stories of sorcery and magic.
So, it was inevitable that the stories from Kerala would have a flavour quite unlike what you would find in the Gangetic plains. We saw that in the temple’s story to Duryodhana.
There is a song in Kerala which used to be sung by wandering minstrels. The song tells of Duryodhana employing a sorcerer to kill the Pandavas and how Krishna saved them. It is believed that singing these songs protects the house and its residents from the evil eye and black magic.
Mantravadis or Mantrikans, as sorcerers are called, were common in Kerala. They could be hired to do whatever you wished.
Later, the story in this song was turned into a Kathakali drama about a century ago. It was a popular story, often staged during the night-long performances at the temples.
My version of the story goes like this.
The Seeds of Darkness
Duryodhana was perturbed. The Pandavas were in exile in the forest, but they were getting stronger, gathering support. Arjuna was gathering new and more powerful astras, and the day of reckoning would come soon.
Shakuni, Duryodhana’s maternal uncle—sly and scheming—watched as Duryodhana paced up and down.
They were in the southern part of their empire near the tall Malaya mountains, the southern reaches of the Western Ghats.
“Duryodhana, I went to one of the nearby villages where the mountain dwellers live, and they told me about a powerful sorcerer who lives deep inside the forest. He is a master of sorcery. It is said he can control the darkness and make shadows do his will. Let us consult with him,” advised Shakuni.
Duryodhana hesitated. He was a peerless warrior who liked to meet his enemies head-on. But jealousy, greed, and ambition had taken hold inside him.
He was alone with Shakuni, whose mind was twisted and dark. There was no Karna to protest, no Ashwatthama to decry such evil. Bhishma, Vidura, Vikarna, and all the others who would have opposed such a dark deed were absent.
There was only the brawny but brainless Dushasana for company, and he was always in agreement with anything that would harm the Pandavas.
Shakuni saw the opportunity to remove the Pandavas and tarnish the reputation of the Kauravas forever. He would finally have his revenge on the Kurus for what they had done to his kingdom and his sister. Bhishma would be heartbroken, devastated.
It would be sweet revenge for Shakuni, who still seethed with anger when he thought about his sister being forced to marry a blind fool like Dhritarashtra.
Shakuni loved his nephews, but his thirst for revenge was stronger—as it is in all people from Gandhara. They would act ruthlessly and without humanity, seeking revenge. It was in their blood, and it continues till today.
Shakuni set to work on Duryodhana, reminding him of all the insults he had faced, the perceived injustice of denying Duryodhana the throne. Duryodhana, blinded by rage, called a messenger to immediately summon the sorcerer to his presence.
The messenger came back. The sorcerer was not in his home—he was on the mountaintop doing penance and would be back home in two days. He would present himself before Duryodhana on the fourth day from today. This was the reply from the sorcerer’s wife.
The Reluctant Sorcerer
The sorcerer Malayan came back refreshed, his magic restored to full strength due to his penance. Happily, he entered his small house deep in the forest.
His wife, Malayati, met him, her face gloomy and distraught. Malayan was worried. Had he committed a wrong? Were his in-laws well? Did his parents say something nasty to her? Or his biggest fear—did she take a lover when he was away?
Every husband is like that, always in doubt about himself and in fear of his wife—be it a king or a great sorcerer.
But Malayati put those fears to rest. “There has been a summons from Prince Duryodhana, which you cannot refuse. We are poor people. God only knows how this will end. Nothing good comes from standing before these great men. It is like standing behind a donkey—both will kick and hurt you for no reason,” Malayati said sadly.
The omens were not good, and it was with some unease that Malayan prepared for his journey the next day.
Malayati told him to go meet Kunti and the Pandavas who were living nearby in the forest while coming back, and tell them about the meeting with Duryodhana. Malayati was a devotee of Krishna and a passionate supporter of the Pandavas. She admired Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas.
Duryodhana was having second thoughts about calling for a sorcerer who lived hidden in the woods. Why would he do that? Duryodhana did not understand that Malayan did it to avoid people using him for evil acts. Powerful people who did not want to dirty their hands always hired people like Malayan—a forest dweller—for such acts.
Malayan was a gentle soul, like most tribals and those who live close to nature. He used his powers for good, to heal people, find lost valuables, and sometimes catch thieves. He accepted whatever the people gave him. He lived quietly and did this only for the tribals like him, avoiding cities and powerful people.
The Test
Duryodhana called his friend Trigarthan, a great warrior who had accompanied him. He asked him to guard the gates of the royal house and not allow Malayan to enter. This would help Duryodhana understand whether Malayan was as powerful as people said he was.
Malayan came to the palace early the next day and found Trigarthan astride a huge elephant, blocking his way along with a strong force of armed men.
With the power of his sorcery, Malayan created a wall of fire that moved toward the people blocking his path. The soldiers and the elephant fled, carrying Trigarthan away, and Malayan reluctantly entered the palace.
Duryodhana was convinced. This man would be able to do what many others were not able to do. He would remove the Pandavas from his path.
The Dark Bargain
Malayan stood humbly with hands folded before Shakuni and Duryodhana.
“It is said that you can capture a person’s shadow and kill him by stabbing the shadow. Is this true?” asked Shakuni. Duryodhana kept quiet and watched.
Malayan was reluctant, but he could not lie. He nodded. “Yes, I can, my lord, but it takes too much of my powers, and it is prohibited.”
“You will capture the shadows of the Pandavas and kill them, or else we will kill your wife and son. Even now your house is surrounded. Even if you escape from here, unless we give the word, your family will be slaughtered.”
“If you do this, we will give you half the kingdom. You will be a king and your family safe. If you do not listen to us, we will kill you now,” said Shakuni.
Dushasana drew his sword and placed it on Malayan’s neck.
Malayan looked into the cruel eyes of these great men and knew the loss of hope. He had no choice. If he did this cruel, horrifying act, he would lose all his powers, and no penance would restore them. He would go mad with guilt.
He accepted his fate to save his wife and child.
The Ritual of Shadows
He sat down on the floor and invoked the dark forces. His powers forced them out of the netherworld.
The daylight disappeared, and the hall was dark, filled by growling evil spirits muttering their anger at this call.
The orders they received, to capture and bring the shadows of the Pandavas, stopped them. The spirits became silent. “This is an evil thing you ask us, Malayan. Think well before you insist. The sin will be yours alone,” said the spirits.
“I am forced by the prince here and have no choice,” replied Malayan. “We will bring the shadows of the Pandavas, but we will not kill them. The sin of killing them will be yours, Malayan,” said the spirits.
A large mirror was placed in front of the sorcerer. The shadows of the Pandavas appeared one by one. But Malayan saw that there was an additional shadow that appeared on its own—the shadow of Krishna.
The shadow of Krishna watched and then vanished. Malayan was now terrified.
He hesitated and turned to Duryodhana and pleaded, “Lord, please reconsider. The Pandavas are under Lord Krishna’s protection. Nothing good will come from such an evil act.”
Duryodhana was beyond reason now. His goal seemed very near. “Do your job, sorcerer. Leave the repercussions to me, or face death now,” he replied.
The sword of Dushasana was on his neck. There was no choice for Malayan.
He began chanting the incantations. He drew the sacrificial knife and cut off the finger of one of the servants there, who screamed in agony.
The cut finger and the blood dripping from the servant he offered to the spirits.
The room grew darker still. The air grew heavy. The angry growls of the reluctant spirits grew, and the sacrificial knife glowed with its evil power.
Malayan took the knife and stabbed the shadow of Yudhishthira. There was a cry that rang faintly in the room, and they could see the blood flow from the wound in the shadow.
Yudhishthira fell.
Now beyond caring and in the grip of the evil act, Malayan quickly stabbed the other Pandavas.
The great Bhima fell without a sound. Arjuna the archer lay limp and lifeless, and the twins had no breath.
The shadows in the mirror vanished, and Malayan stood aghast at what he had done.
The Betrayal
There was silence in the hall. Slowly the darkness lifted, and Duryodhana shouted with joy. If Malayan expected thanks or the promised half of the kingdom, he was in for a rude shock. Shakuni turned to Malayan. “Here, take these five coins. That is all that these Pandavas are worth. Speak nothing of what has happened here if you value your life.” Malayan turned. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “What about half the kingdom you promised me?” he asked.
The evil men in the hall roared with laughter. “Go now before I lose my temper and kill you,” said Duryodhana as Malayan was driven away from the palace.
Malayan stepped out empty-handed. He left the five coins inside the palace. He would take no payment for this evil act.
The Mother’s Fury
A worried and unhappy Malayan reached home. He did not go to see Kunti. Malayati was feeding their son. The baby was suckling at her breast.
She looked at Malayan and knew he had done a terrible act. He had promised her he would never use his powers to kill.
She forced him to tell her all that had happened, and when she heard that he had killed the Pandavas, she cried out in anger.
Malayati was mad with rage. “You evil man! You have killed five children of a widowed mother. How will Kunti survive this? You do not deserve any happiness. You too should know the agony of losing a child!” she screamed at him.
In a paroxysm of rage, she pulled the baby from her breast, and with inhuman strength held the baby by his legs and tore the child apart.
Malayan looked at the torn body of his beloved son. His mind snapped. He shivered in agony. His heart burst with grief, and he fell dead beside the mutilated body of his son.
Malayati, mad with grief and anger, ran with her bloody hands to the hut of the Pandavas and fell at the feet of a sorrowing Kunti.
Kunti sat by the bodies of her slain, stalwart sons. Her world had come crashing down.
She listened to the pleadings of Malayati, and within her broken heart, Kunti found strength and compassion. She held the sobbing Malayati to her, both united in their grief. Such is this world. Men fight and stride about with their egos, kill and maim. The women suffer and cry.
Krishna’s Lesson
The women saw Krishna come. He was calm and there was his usual smile on his face.
The women got up in anger and glared at him. How could he be so calm in the face of such tragedy?
He looked at them and said gently, “Do you have so little faith in me? Malayati, you have committed the greater sin. Your husband was forced into what he did; no blame attaches to him. He did not get half the kingdom as promised, and he also left the five coins given to him. He is blameless.”
Krishna looked at Malayati in great sorrow. “How could you do this? How could you tear your child from your breast and kill that innocent son of yours? Yours is the heinous act, Malayati, not your husband’s.”
“Any act which is done without thought, in anger or pique, will lead to adharma. You, Malayati, have done such an act which is as heinous as that done by the Kauravas. No, it is more evil. The Kauravas acted against their enemies. You killed your child whom you should have protected. You are attached to my aunt Kunti. Look how she supports and protects her children,” Krishna continued to address Malayati, who was now in despair.
“Krishna, enough of this advice. You have promised to protect my children. You have broken it,” said Kunti.
Krishna turned to her. “Aunt, you know I always keep my promises.” Krishna used his divine powers and restored the Pandavas to life.
The Restoration
Malayati was broken and in despair. Krishna took pity on her—she was also his devotee. He sighed. It was always like this. Men and women acted in haste, and he had to step in. Why, even the Devas, the celestial gods, did the same.
He lifted Malayati. “Go, child, back to your house. I have restored your husband and child. Let this be a lesson to you.”
Malayati ran back and found her husband, and child restored to life. But life had changed for them. Malayati’s actions had caused a wound that would never heal.
The three of them left their house and went deep into the forest, away from the world of men and its sorrows.
🙏 Namaste until the next time.
