The one who became Khatu Shyam

THE DIVINE STORY OF BARBARIK 

In the sacred age of the Mahabharata, there lived a warrior whose valor was unmatched and whose devotion was pure. His name was Barbarik, the beloved grandson of mighty Bhima and the son of the valiant Ghatotkacha. Gifted by the Divine Mother herself, Barbarik possessed three celestial arrows, each filled with divine power. With these three arrows alone, he was capable of ending the great war of Kurukshetra in a single moment.

As the conch shells echoed across the battlefield, Barbarik arrived at Kurukshetra and stood calmly beneath a peepal tree, right between the armies of the Kauravas and the Pandavas. With folded hands and unwavering faith, he declared,

“I shall fight from the side that is losing.”

This vow, born out of compassion, stirred deep concern in the heart of Lord Krishna, the knower of all destinies. Krishna foresaw that such unmatched power, bound by an innocent promise, could destroy both sides and disrupt the divine purpose of the war.

To understand the depth of Barbarik’s strength, Krishna approached him along with Arjuna. Smiling gently, Krishna pointed to a tree and said,

“If you can pierce every leaf of this tree with a single arrow, I will accept your greatness.”

With humble reverence, Barbarik released his arrow. Miraculously, the arrow pierced every leaf, one after another. A single leaf fell to the ground unnoticed. Seeing this, Krishna softly placed His foot upon it. Yet the arrow, obedient to its master’s command, halted near Krishna’s feet.

Barbarik bowed and said,

“O Lord, there is still one leaf beneath Your foot. Please remove it. I instructed the arrow to pierce leaves—not Your divine feet.”

At that moment, Krishna understood that Barbarik’s power was not merely martial—it was governed by divine discipline and unwavering intent.

Knowing the danger that lay ahead, Krishna adopted the gentle form of a Brahmin and visited Barbarik’s camp at dawn. In a humble voice, He asked for alms. Barbarik welcomed Him with devotion and said,

“Ask for anything, revered one.”

The Brahmin smiled and replied,

“I shall ask for something you may not be able to give.”

Yet without hesitation, Barbarik agreed.

Then came the divine request: his head.

Without fear, without sorrow, and without hesitation, Barbarik bowed before Krishna. For the victory of dharma and the welfare of his ancestors, the Pandavas, he willingly offered his head in supreme sacrifice.

Before doing so, Barbarik expressed one final wish—to witness the great war. Moved by his devotion, Lord Krishna granted him divine vision and placed his sacred head upon a high place from where he could see the entire battlefield.

After bathing, praying, and singing hymns through the night, Barbarik offered his head to Krishna on Phalguna Shukla Dwadashi, attaining immortality through sacrifice.

As the war ended and the Pandavas debated over who deserved credit for victory, Krishna smiled and said,

“Let Barbarik decide.”

From his divine vantage point, Barbarik spoke the eternal truth:

“It was only Krishna’s Sudarshan Chakra that fought on both sides, and Draupadi herself appeared as Goddess Kali, drinking the blood of the unrighteous.”

Pleased beyond measure, Lord Krishna blessed Barbarik and said,

“In the age of Kaliyuga, you shall be worshipped in My own name. Whoever remembers you with faith shall never be defeated by despair.”

Thus, Barbarik became Khatu Shyam—

the God of the defeated,

the protector of the helpless,

the eternal symbol of sacrifice, devotion, and grace.

Even today, devotees bow before Khatu Shyam Ji, knowing that where hope fades, Shyam Baba stands as eternal support.

The lesson of the wise king

NOBODY CAN SEE YOU 

Once upon a time, there was a wise and just king who ruled over a vast kingdom. He had only one son, the prince, whom he loved dearly. The king, however, knew that love alone could not make his son a good ruler. He wanted the young prince to become wise, humble, and capable before inheriting the throne.

One night, the king called his son to his chamber. The prince was surprised to see his father awake at such an hour. With a serious expression, the king said, “From this moment onward, you are no longer a prince. You will not inherit my throne. Take off your royal clothes and ornaments.”

The prince was stunned. Before he could speak, the king ordered his guards to remove the prince’s royal attire and dress him in old, torn clothes. Then he commanded, “Take him in a chariot to the outskirts of the kingdom. Leave him there and do not allow him to return.”

The order was obeyed.

The prince, confused and heartbroken, found himself alone in a strange city where no one knew him. His royal life was gone in an instant. The people who saw his tattered clothes assumed he was a beggar. Some gave him scraps of food; others dropped a few coins in his bowl. With no other choice, the prince began to live as a beggar.

Days turned into months, and months into years. Over time, he forgot that he had ever been a prince. Begging became his routine, and the proud, confident prince was now a humble man who lived on the charity of others.

One scorching afternoon, as he begged on the roadside, a royal chariot stopped in front of him. The beggar cried louder, hoping someone would take pity on him. To his surprise, a man stepped down from the chariot and walked directly toward him.

“Your father, the king, is very old and on his deathbed,” said the man. “He wishes to see you and make you his successor.”

At that moment, something changed within the beggar. The years of humiliation and hardship seemed to melt away. His posture straightened, his eyes regained their spark, and his voice carried the confidence of royalty once more. Though his clothes were still torn, he no longer looked like a beggar—he looked like a prince.

The same people who had once ignored him now bowed respectfully and offered help. But the prince paid no attention. He stepped into the chariot with dignity and asked to be taken to the palace. On the way, he stopped to bathe and dress in fine clothes, shoes, and ornaments.

When he finally stood before his father, he bowed deeply and said, “Father, why did you send me away so suddenly all those years ago? And why have you called me back now?”

The old king smiled faintly and said, “My father did the same to me. I wanted you to learn a truth that cannot be taught by words. A prince or a beggar—these are merely roles the world gives you. They can change in an instant. But what you truly are lies deep within you. It is something only you can see. No one else can see it.”

The prince bowed his head, understanding at last the lesson his father had hidden within his cruelty—a lesson about identity, strength, and the true self that remains unshaken by the changing faces of fortune.

Interesting tales of spider

THE CELESTIAL TAILOR WHO BECAME A SPIDER 

Once upon a time, in the golden realms of heaven, there lived a skilled tailor whose hands were as swift as thought and as precise as divine rhythm. He was no ordinary artisan — he stitched the robes of the Gods, weaving silken garments that shimmered like moonlight and glowed like the morning sun. His creations adorned the deities themselves, and his fame spread through every corner of the celestial world.

The tailor, however, began to take great pride in his work. “It is my needle that gives the gods their glory,” he often boasted. “Without my stitches, even the finest robes would fall apart.”

His vanity grew with each passing day, until his art — once a form of devotion — became a source of ego.

One day, Lord Brahma appeared before him. With gentle wisdom, the Creator said,

“O skillful one, your craft is divine, but pride clouds the heart. Remember, all skill is sacred only when joined with humility.”

But the tailor, drunk on his success, smiled and replied,

“Even the gods need me, O Lord. Without my hands, who will clothe the heavens?”

Brahma’s eyes shone with both compassion and firmness. “If you are so attached to your threads,” he said, “then may you weave forever — but as one who cannot stop spinning.”

With that, Brahma cursed the tailor.

In an instant, the tailor shrank and transformed into a tiny creature with eight slender legs. From his own body came a fine thread — his new thread of destiny.

He had become a spider.

Realising the weight of his folly, the spider bowed before Brahma and wept. “Forgive me, O Lord! My pride has brought me low.”

Brahma, moved by the spider’s repentance, softened his heart. “Your weaving shall not be forgotten,” he said kindly. “Your webs will still bear the beauty of divine art. Even as a spider, your work will reflect creation itself — delicate, precise, and full of wonder.”

And thus, since that day, spiders have spun their delicate webs — a silent reminder of the celestial tailor’s story.

Symbolism Behind the Story

This myth carries deep meaning:

The spider’s web represents the cosmic web of creation — intricate, vast, and interconnected.

The spider symbolises the human soul, often trapped in the web of its own desires and ego.

The tale teaches the eternal truth that pride turns devotion into downfall, while humility restores grace.

A Lesson to Remember

The story of the celestial tailor reminds us that talent is divine, but ego is its shadow. Whether one weaves clothes, words, or dreams, true artistry lies in humility and devotion.

The spider’s web, glistening in sunlight, still whispers the ancient truth —

“What is made with pride perishes, but what is woven with humility lasts forever.”

🕸️ Did You Know?

● In Hindu philosophy, the spider often represents Brahman, the Creator, who spins the universe from Himself — just as a spider spins its web from its own body.

● In the Atharva Veda, there is a hymn comparing the cosmos to a web woven by a divine spider.

● Across world cultures too, spiders are seen as symbols of creation and destiny — for example, the African goddess Anansi and the Native American Grandmother Spider both weave the web of life and knowledge.

🌼 Moral of the Story

True artistry blooms in humility. Pride entangles, but devotion sets one free.

LEGEND OF SRI KALAHASTI TEMPLE 

A deeper and more devotional version of the spider’s story is found in the sacred legend of Sri Kalahasti Temple in Andhra Pradesh, one of the holiest Shiva shrines in South India.

Long ago, in the forest of Kalahasti, three devoted creatures — an elephant, a snake, and a spider — each worshipped Lord Shiva in their own special way.

The elephant would bring water from the river in its trunk every day and bathe the Shiva Linga, offering flowers with great devotion.

The snake, believing that the Linga should always be decorated, brought precious gems and placed them around it as ornaments.

The spider, small and humble, wanted to protect the Linga from dust, sunlight, and rain. So it spun a delicate web over it — its own form of sacred service.

One day, when the elephant came to perform its daily worship, it saw the web and thought it was dirt covering the holy stone. Wanting to clean the shrine, the elephant poured water and destroyed the web.

The spider, returning later, was heartbroken to see its devotion washed away. Thinking someone had desecrated its worship, it wove the web again, this time stronger and more carefully.

The next morning, the elephant once again cleared the web with water.

This went on for several days — each believing they were serving Lord Shiva in the right way. Finally, both confronted each other near the Linga. The elephant tried to destroy the web again, and the spider, in defense, entered the elephant’s trunk to stop it. Unable to bear the pain, the elephant died — and the spider too was crushed.

Their souls, however, immediately rose to the heavens, glowing with divine light. Lord Shiva Himself appeared before them and said with compassion:

“Your devotion, though shown in different ways, was equally sincere. You both shall dwell with Me eternally.”

Out of grace, Lord Shiva granted them moksha (liberation) and declared that the place would be known as Sri Kalahasti —

Kala meaning the spider,

Hasti meaning the elephant,

and the unseen snake representing Naga energy.

Thus, the name Sri Kalahasti symbolises the unity of all forms of devotion, big or small, strong or gentle.

Even today, devotees visiting Sri Kalahasteeswara Temple remember the spider’s humble yet heartfelt offering — a reminder that true worship comes not from strength, but from sincerity.

One of India’s most fascinating and timeless tales

STORY OF VIKRAM AND VETAL 

🕯️ Origins

The tales of Vikram and Vetal come from the ancient Sanskrit collection called “Vetala Panchavimshati” (which means Twenty-five Tales of the Vampire).

It is part of a larger 11th-century work called “Kathasaritsagara” (The Ocean of Streams of Stories), written by the Kashmiri scholar Somadeva.

These stories are among India’s oldest examples of frame tales — stories within a story — just like The Arabian Nights.

⚔️ The Main Story – The King and the Ghost

Once upon a time, there was a brave and wise king named Vikramaditya, famous for his justice, courage, and devotion to truth.

One night, a tantrik (sorcerer) approached him and said:

“O King, if you bring me the corpse hanging from the old tree in the cremation ground, I can perform a great ritual that will give you immense power.”

King Vikramaditya, known for his promise-keeping nature, agreed. He set out alone at midnight to the haunted cremation ground, where he found the body hanging upside down from a banyan tree.

But the corpse was not ordinary — it was possessed by a clever spirit named Vetal, who loved riddles and stories.

👻 The 25 Stories

Each time Vikram carried Vetal on his shoulder to deliver him to the tantric, Vetal began to tell him a story — a moral or puzzle-filled tale.

At the end of every story, Vetal would ask a question:

“O King, if you know the answer and do not speak, your head will burst into a thousand pieces. But if you speak, I will fly back to the tree!”

Vikram, being just and wise, always answered correctly, and every time he spoke, Vetal escaped back to the tree, laughing.

So, the king had to go through this cycle again and again — twenty-four times.

🔮 The Twenty-fifth Story and the Truth

In the twenty-fifth and final tale, Vetal revealed the true motive of the tantric — he wasn’t trying to perform a holy ritual.

He planned to kill King Vikramaditya during the ceremony and offer his body to gain supernatural powers.

Vetal warned the king and said:

“Now you know the truth. If you are truly wise, you will act carefully.”

When Vikramaditya reached the tantric, he pretended to follow his instructions — but at the crucial moment, he killed the deceitful sorcerer instead.

Vetal then blessed the king, saying his courage, intelligence, and truthfulness had triumphed over evil.

🌟 Moral of the Stories

Each of the 25 stories Vetal tells is a parable — teaching lessons about:

● Justice and truth

● Greed and loyalty

● Wisdom and quick thinking

● Moral judgment in complex situations

They were designed not only to entertain but also to train rulers and listeners to think deeply about right and wrong.

📜 Legacy

These stories have been retold in many Indian languages for centuries — in Sanskrit, Hindi, Marathi, Bengali, Tamil, and more.

The popular children’s version you read (like Chandamama, Amar Chitra Katha, or TV’s Vikram aur Vetaal) are simplified retellings of these original tales.

The essence remains the same — a wise king, a witty ghost, and 25 moral dilemmas.

💭 Why we still love it

The charm of Vikram and Vetal lies in its combination of mystery, wit, and wisdom.

Every story ends with a moral twist — reminding us that true wisdom is not about power, but about understanding human nature and doing what’s right.

Let’s relive one of the most famous tales from the Vikram and Vetal collection — the kind that truly captures their clever, question-filled exchanges.

THE THREE PRINCES AND THE SINGLE BRIDE 

(As told by Vetal to King Vikramaditya)

Once, there was a great king named Gandharvasen, who had a beautiful and intelligent daughter named Chandravati.

When she came of age, many princes sought her hand in marriage. To decide who deserved her, the king declared that the one who proved his true worth would win her.

Three brave princes from neighbouring kingdoms came forward. But before any test could be set, a tragic event occurred —

Chandravati suddenly fell ill and died.

Her body was placed on a sandalwood pyre in the royal cremation ground, and the three princes, heartbroken, could not bear to leave her side.

🌸 The Three Acts of Love

Prince One: Out of devotion, he took the ashes of Chandravati and kept them safely in a sacred urn, vowing to protect them forever.

Prince Two: He gave up royal life and became an ascetic, wandering the land in grief. One day, while staying at a Brahmin’s house, he read from a book of magic spells that described how to bring the dead back to life.

Prince Three: He built a beautiful shrine at the cremation site and stayed there, worshipping and guarding it every day.

🔮 The Miracle

One day, all three princes returned to that spot together.

The second prince, with his magical knowledge, used the spell to revive Chandravati.

To everyone’s wonder, she rose — alive and radiant again!

Now came the question that puzzled all — Who should marry her?

🧠 Vetal’s Question

After finishing the story, Vetal asked King Vikramaditya:

“O King, each prince loved Chandravati in his own way.

One guarded her ashes, one learned magic to bring her back, and one built a shrine for her.

Tell me — who truly deserves to be her husband?”

And remember, if the King knew the answer and stayed silent, his head would burst — but if he spoke, Vetal would fly back to the tree!

👑 Vikramaditya’s Answer

The wise king replied:

“The prince who brought her back to life by his magical knowledge acted as her father, not her husband, for he gave her life again.

The one who built the shrine is like her priest, for he performed acts of worship.

But the one who guarded her ashes with devotion, love, and faith — he is her true husband.”

Vetal smiled, clapped his ghostly hands, and — as always — flew back to the tree, leaving Vikram to chase him once again!

🌟 Moral of the Story

True love is not about miracles or rituals, but about loyalty and steadfast devotion — the love that endures even when all hope seems lost.

The story within the story

 THE TALE OF TALES - The girl who outsmarted the travellers

Long ago, when the Earth was still an open canvas, people lived as wanderers. They travelled from one place to another in search of food, shelter, and clothing. With no radio, no television, and no telephones, people turned to stories for entertainment. Stories carried wisdom, knowledge, and laughter from one generation to the next.

It was common for travellers to exchange tales for a place to rest, or even for food. A good storyteller could earn a warm meal, and sometimes, even escape a hard day’s work.

One evening, a group of weary friends arrived at a resting spot after a long day’s journey. Hungry and tired, they began to argue about who should fetch firewood and cook dinner. None of them wished to move. Just then, they saw a young girl walking along the same path.

“Ah,” whispered one traveller perhaps she can help us.”

They stopped her and asked, “Little one, would you like to hear some stories?”

The girl’s eyes lit up. She loved stories more than anything. “Yes, I would love that,” she said eagerly.

The travellers smiled at each other, for they had a plan. “Let’s make it interesting,” one of them suggested. “We will tell you stories that sound impossible. If you say they are impossible, you must cook for us. But if you tell us a story, and we say it’s impossible, then we must cook for you.”

The girl agreed.

The first traveller began:

“My grandfather was a poor farmer. He worked in a rich man’s house, where he was mocked every day for being slow and clumsy. Yet, he never stopped praying to God. One night, God appeared to him in a dream, and when he woke, he felt an immense power flowing through his body.

The next time his master scolded him, that power rushed to his veins. He grew in size, lifted the entire house on his shoulders, and leapt high into the air! The cupboards crashed, the beds flew, and the windows shattered. His master trembled with fear and begged him to stop. From that day onward, he was no longer a servant but treated as part of the family.”

The traveller finished and asked, “Well? Do you agree with my story?”

The group and the girl nodded. No one disagreed.

The second traveller stepped forward with his tale:

“My grandfather lived through a terrible famine. He was weak and had little to his name. One day, after quarreling with his brother, he wandered into a forest and saw a man painting. To his amazement, the man painted a deer that sprang to life!

Greedy for this magical brush, my grandfather tricked the painter. He painted a boat with the man inside it, added strong winds, and blew him far away. Now the brush was his. He painted clouds heavy with rain and fields filled with grain. His village prospered, and he was made treasurer.

In time, he painted a son, and later a beautiful daughter for his son to marry. And so, I was born to painted parents. The brush is gone now, but perhaps my smooth hair is a gift from it. I still use the best herbs from the best orchard that my grandfather once painted.”

He finished with a proud smile. “Do you agree with my story?”

“Yes, we all do,” said the group and the girl.

Now it was the young girl’s turn. She sat tall and began:

“My grandparents were noble people, respected for their strength and generosity. They possessed treasures of great power—a chest filled with hulk-like strength and magical objects such as a wish-granting paintbrush.

But during a time of civil strife, their servants betrayed them and fled with these possessions. My parents spent their lives searching, and today, I too have set out on this quest. And here, at last, I find those possessions—with you. You are the long-lost servants of my family who stole from us.”

The travellers shifted uncomfortably.

The girl finished firmly, “This is the end of my story. Do you agree?”

The group stammered. “Yes… we do.”

“Excellent,” said the girl with a smile. “Now, return my possessions.”

The travellers quickly backtracked. “No, no—we don’t agree after all!”

The girl’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, but if you disagree, then the rules say you must cook for me.”

The travellers realised they had been outwitted. With no choice left, they gathered firewood, lit the fire, and cooked a fine meal.

And so, while the tired travellers toiled over pots and pans, the clever girl rested peacefully, listening to the crackle of the fire and savouring her victory.

From that day, the story of the little girl’s wit spread far and wide, reminding everyone that cleverness can be stronger than strength—and that a good story can win you more than just a smile.

From Kurukshetra to Kitchens Worldwide

THE UDUPI KING AND KRISHNA’S BLESSING 

The Mahabharata was the greatest war of its time because there was hardly any kingdom that did not take part in it.

Rulers from India, Afghanistan, and even Iran chose sides—either with the Kauravas or the Pandavas. Yet, one southern kingdom stood apart, even while present on the battlefield: the kingdom of Udupi.

When the King of Udupi arrived at Kurukshetra with his army, both Kauravas and Pandavas tried to win him over. But the king was extremely farsighted. He approached Shri Krishna and asked:

“O Madhava! Everyone seems eager to fight this war. But has anyone considered how food will be arranged for such a massive army gathered here?”

Shri Krishna replied with a smile,

“Maharaj, you have raised an excellent question. From your words, I sense you already have a plan. Please tell me what you have in mind.”

The Udupi king said,

“O Vasudeva! A war between brothers seems unjust to me, and I do not wish to fight. But it is also true that this war cannot be avoided. So I have decided that I, along with my army, will stay here and arrange food for all the soldiers who will fight.”

Hearing this, Krishna said joyfully,

“Maharaj, your thought is noble! In this war, fifty lakh warriors will fight. If a capable king like you manages their food, we can rest assured. I also know that only two people could manage such a vast army’s meals—Bhima and you. But since Bhima must fight, I request you to take this responsibility.”

Thus, the King of Udupi took charge of feeding the armies.

On the very first day, he provided food for all the warriors so efficiently that not a single grain was wasted. As the days passed and the number of soldiers decreased, his arrangements remained perfect. Both sides wondered,

“How does the Udupi king know exactly how much food to prepare each day?”

Managing meals for such a massive army was itself a miracle, but doing it with absolute precision was nothing short of divine.

Finally, the war ended with the Pandavas’ victory. On the day of his coronation, Yudhishthira asked the Udupi king,

“Maharaj, all the kings praise us for defeating such a mighty army, led by great warriors like Bhishma, Dronacharya, and Karna, despite our small force. But I feel you deserve more praise than us—you fed millions of warriors without wasting even a single grain. What is your secret?”

The Udupi king smiled and asked,

“O Emperor, to whom do you give credit for your victory?”

Yudhishthira replied,

“To none other than Shri Krishna. Without Him, defeating the Kauravas would have been impossible.”

The king said gently,

“Just as you credit Shri Krishna for your victory, I credit Him for my miracle.”

Everyone was surprised. The king revealed the secret:

“Every night, Shri Krishna would eat groundnuts (peanuts). I would quietly count the shells He left behind. The number of peanuts He ate foretold the number of soldiers who would die the next day. If He ate 50 peanuts, then 50,000 soldiers would perish in the battle. Based on this, I would prepare the food. That is why no food was ever wasted.”

On hearing this divine secret, everyone bowed down in reverence to Shri Krishna.

It is said that Shri Krishna blessed the Udupi king:

“Because you arranged food with such devotion and skill, I bless you and your people. From now on, the men of your kingdom will naturally possess the talent to prepare pure, sattvic meals that will be renowned across the world.”

That is why, even today, Udupi people have opened restaurants across India and abroad. Their cuisine is famous everywhere, and due to Krishna’s blessing, Udupi restaurants serve only sattvic—pure, wholesome—food.

Even in modern times, it is rare to find a city in India without an Udupi restaurant, and overseas too, these restaurants flourish—still carrying the echo of Krishna’s ancient blessing.

This story is one of the rare tales from the Mahabharata and is often narrated in the Krishna Matha of Udupi, which was established by the King of Udupi himself. 

Story from Panchatantra

THE WEAVER’S SHORTSIGHTED WISH 

In a quiet little village, there lived a poor weaver named Mandharaka. No matter how hard he worked, he barely earned enough to feed his family. One day, burdened by his troubles, he wandered into the nearby forest. There, he unexpectedly met a kind-hearted Yaksha—a celestial being—who offered to grant him a boon.

Mandharaka was overjoyed but unsure what to ask for. Wanting to make the best choice, he hurried home to consult his wife. She thought for a moment and said,

“If you had two heads and four arms, you could weave twice as fast, finish more work, and earn more money. That would solve all our problems!”

Trusting her advice, Mandharaka returned to the Yaksha and made this unusual request. The Yaksha smiled and immediately granted the boon. To Mandharaka’s amazement, he now had two heads and four arms! Feeling proud and excited about the future, he walked back to his village.

But when the villagers saw him, they were terrified. To them, Mandharaka looked like a fearsome demon. Panic spread quickly, and without thinking, they attacked him with sticks and stones. The poor weaver, who had only wished for prosperity, was killed on the spot—destroyed not by enemies, but by his own short-sighted wish.

Moral: Quick fixes and shortsighted decisions may seem promising, but without foresight and wisdom, they can lead to disaster instead of lasting growth.

A Folktale from Tamil Nadu

THE CLEVER WIFE’S MORTAR TRICK 

This is a funny folktale from Tamil Nadu, a state in southern India known for its rich traditions, delicious food, and colourful festivals. Folktales like this were told by elders to make people laugh while also teaching a lesson.

Long ago, in a small village, there lived a poor but kind man named Ponnan. He didn’t have much, but he always shared whatever little food he had—even with strangers! His wife often scolded him, saying,

“Please think of our family! You keep bringing strangers home for lunch. What will we eat?”

But Ponnan’s heart was too big to say no.

One morning, after Ponnan left for work, his wife saw two men coming towards their hut, rubbing their stomachs. She guessed Ponnan had invited them for lunch again. “Oh no, not today!” she thought, frowning.

Just then, her eyes fell on the large mortar and pestle she used to pound rice in. An idea lit up her face.

She dragged the heavy mortar to the middle of the room, scrubbed it clean until it shone, and smeared bright saffron paste on top. Then, she draped a fresh flower garland around it. Soon, it looked like a sacred idol being worshipped!

She sat cross-legged in front of it, rocking it gently and chanting strange-sounding mantras. Her ears pricked up as the men stepped inside.

“Ah, here comes the feast!” whispered one man to the other. But they froze when they saw the decorated mortar and pestle.

“What’s going on here?” one asked nervously.

Ponnan’s wife smiled sweetly. “Didn’t my husband tell you? This is his special deity. It’s… unusual.”

“Unusual? How?” they asked.

Lowering her voice, she said slowly, “It demands… human blood.”

The men’s eyes grew wide with fear. “Yes,” she continued, “My husband brings guests home, then hits them on the head with the pestle to offer their blood!”

Terrified, the men turned and ran out—just as Ponnan returned.

Ponnan saw them running and asked his wife, “What happened?”

“They wanted the pestle,” she said casually, “but I refused to give it.”

“What? You silly woman!” cried Ponnan, grabbing the pestle. “Wait! Take the pestle!” he shouted, running after them.

The poor guests, already frightened out of their wits, thought Ponnan was indeed chasing them with the deadly pestle. They ran faster and faster until they disappeared from sight, never to trouble Ponnan’s family again.

When Ponnan returned home, puzzled, his wife burst out laughing and told him the whole story. At last, even Ponnan had to smile and admit, “Today, your cleverness has fed us better than my kindness!”

That evening, the family enjoyed their simple meal in peace—thanks to the wife’s quick wit and presence of mind.

Moral of the Story:

Quick thinking and cleverness can save you from difficult situations. Wisdom is sometimes more valuable than strength or wealth.

Folktale from Santhal tribes

THE BULLOCK THAT GAVE BIRTH TO A CALF 

Once upon a time, there was a poor cowherd named Sona. He bought a small calf and was taking it home. On the way, he stayed at a villager’s house. The villager was a greedy oilman. At night, the oilman made a trick. He put oilcake on the calf, untied his bullock, and let it lick the calf. Then he called the villagers and said, “Look! My bullock has given birth to this calf!”

In the morning, when Sona wanted to take his calf, the oilman stopped him. The villagers believed the oilman and asked, “If your calf is really yours, why was the bullock licking it?” Poor Sona was very sad and went into the forest.

There, a bird called chappa (nightjar) and a jackal promised to help him. They came with Sona to the village. First, the bird said, “I had a dream. I saw an egg sitting on another egg.” Then the jackal said, “I also had a dream. I saw the sea on fire.”

The villagers laughed, “These dreams are impossible! An egg cannot sit on another egg, and the sea cannot burn!”

The bird replied, “If these are impossible, then how can a bullock give birth to a calf?”

The villagers understood their mistake. They returned the calf to Sona and punished the greedy oilman.

Moral: Truth always wins, and lies can never last long.

An inspiring story of devotion

PRAHLAD

The story of Prahlad is one of the most inspiring and powerful tales in Hindu mythology, especially in the Vaishnava tradition. It symbolises the triumph of devotion (bhakti) and righteousness over pride and evil, while also highlighting the omnipresence and protective grace of Lord Vishnu.

The Demon King Hiranyakashipu: The tale begins with the mighty Asura king, Hiranyakashipu, who was filled with anger and revenge. His younger brother, Hiranyaksh, had been slain by Vishnu in His Varaha (boar) avatar. Consumed by grief and fury, Hiranyakashipu performed severe penance to please Lord Brahma, seeking a boon that would make him virtually immortal.

His boon was carefully worded:

He could not be killed by man or beast,

Neither by day nor night,

Neither indoors nor outdoors,

Neither on land, water, nor in the air,

And not by any weapon.

Brahma granted this boon, and Hiranyakashipu, believing himself invincible, grew arrogant. He declared himself the supreme ruler and god, demanding that all his subjects worship him alone. Those who resisted were punished or killed.

Prahlad’s birth and devotion: While Hiranyakashipu was deep in penance, his wife Kayadhu was taken into the care of the sage Narad. During this time, Narad narrated stories of Lord Vishnu to her, and these divine teachings reached her unborn child. Thus, Prahlad, even before birth, was filled with unwavering devotion to Lord Vishnu.

From childhood, Prahlad was extraordinary. He constantly chanted Vishnu’s name, meditated on Him, and spread His glory. This enraged his father, who could not tolerate his son worshipping his sworn enemy. Despite Hiranyakashipu’s threats and harsh punishments, Prahlad’s devotion remained firm and fearless.

The Trials of Prahlad

Blinded by anger, Hiranyakashipu tried in many ways to kill his son:

Prahlad was thrown from a cliff, but survived.

He was trampled by elephants, but remained unharmed.

Venomous snakes were set upon him, but their poison did not work.

He was given poisoned food, but it turned harmless.

Each time, Prahlad emerged safe under the divine protection of Vishnu.

One of the most famous trials involved Hiranyakashipu’s sister Holika, who had a boon that made her immune to fire. She sat on a burning pyre with Prahlad in her lap, hoping to burn him alive. 

But Prahlad’s devotion saved him. Holika perished in the flames, while Prahlad came out unhurt. This incident is remembered in the festival of Holi, where bonfires symbolise the victory of good over evil.

The Arrival of Narasimha: At last, enraged by his son’s defiance, Hiranyakashipu confronted Prahlad.

“Where is your Vishnu now?” he thundered.

Calmly, Prahlad replied, “He is everywhere.”

Mocking him, Hiranyakashipu pointed to a pillar in his palace. “Is He in this pillar too?”

“Yes,” answered Prahlad with unshaken faith.

In furious disbelief, Hiranyakashipu struck the pillar with his mace. To everyone’s astonishment, the pillar cracked open and from it emerged Lord Vishnu in the form of Narasimha—a terrifying half-man, half-lion incarnation.

Narasimha seized Hiranyakashipu and fulfilled the conditions of the boon in a divine way:

He killed him at twilight (neither day nor night),

On the threshold of the palace (neither indoors nor outdoors),

Placed him on His lap (neither on earth, water, nor air),

And tore him apart with His claws (not a weapon, neither man nor beast).

Thus, Vishnu destroyed the tyrant without breaking Brahma’s boon, proving that divine justice always prevails.

The Aftermath: Narasimha’s anger was so fierce that even the gods trembled, but Prahlad, with his pure heart and humility, approached Him fearlessly. With folded hands, he sang praises of Vishnu, and it was only his devotion that calmed Narasimha’s fury.

Prahlad was then blessed and made king. He ruled the Asuras with wisdom, justice, and righteousness. His story became a shining example of unwavering faith, the power of devotion, and the ultimate victory of good over evil.

✨ Moral of the Story: True devotion and faith in God can protect us from even the greatest dangers. Pride and arrogance may seem powerful, but in the end, humility and righteousness always triumph.

A symbol of selfless sacrifice

THE STORY OF KING SHIBI 

Long ago, there was a noble and just king named Shibi. He was known for his truthfulness, kindness, and sense of justice. The gods decided to test his generosity and courage.

One day, a dove, trembling with fear, flew into his court and cried out, “O King! Save me! A hawk is chasing me!”

Just then, the hawk appeared and said, “O King, I am hungry. That dove is my food. If you protect him, I will starve.”

King Shibi was in a dilemma. He wanted to protect the innocent dove, but he also did not want the hawk to go hungry. So, he made a brave decision.

He said, “I will not let any creature suffer in my kingdom. I will give you my own flesh, equal in weight to the dove.”

A pair of scales was brought. The dove was placed on one side, and the king began placing pieces of his own flesh on the other. But no matter how much he gave, the scales did not balance. 

Finally, King Shibi himself sat on the scale — and it balanced!

At that moment, the dove and hawk turned into gods — Agni (the fire god) and Indra (the king of gods). They were testing the king's virtue and were pleased by his selfless sacrifice. They blessed him and healed his wounds.

✨ Moral of the Story:

True greatness lies in selflessness, compassion, and courage. King Shibi is remembered even today for his unshakable values and devotion to dharma (duty).

The boy who became the Pole Star

 THE STORY OF DHRUV 

Long ago, in the golden age of truth, there lived a noble king named Uttanapada, a ruler from the solar dynasty. He had two queens — Suniti, the elder and virtuous, and Suruchi, the younger and beautiful, but proud. Suniti had a son named Dhruv, and Suruchi’s son was named Uttama.

💔 A Moment of Pain

One day, little Dhruv, just five years old, saw his stepbrother Uttam sitting on his father’s lap in the royal court. Innocently, he too approached his father and wished to sit on the king’s lap.

But Queen Suruchi stopped him sharply. She said:

"You cannot sit on the king’s lap, child. You are not born of me. If you want such a place, you must be born again—from my womb—and earn the king’s favour through penance!"

These cruel words pierced Dhruv’s young heart. His father remained silent, unable to stand up for his son. Humiliated and in tears, Dhruv ran back to his mother.

Seeing her son in distress, Suniti comforted him and said:

"My child, do not be angry. Those who wrong us act from ignorance. If you truly seek a place that can never be taken away, seek it from the Lord Himself—seek it from Vishnu, who gives everything to the sincere."

Her words awakened something powerful in Dhruv. He said:

"I will find Lord Vishnu, and I will earn a place that not even death can take from me!"

🧘 The Journey of Tapasya

Though only five years old, Dhruv left the palace and went deep into the forest. His resolve was unshakable.

There, by divine arrangement, he met Sage Narada, the celestial musician and wise teacher. Narada tested him first, saying:

"You are just a boy, Dhruv. Go back to your mother. This path is too difficult."

But Dhruv stood firm. Seeing his determination, Narada was moved. He taught Dhruv the sacred mantra:

"Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya"

He instructed him to meditate upon Lord Vishnu in the Madhuvana forest, on the banks of the Yamuna.

For six months, Dhruv performed severe tapasya. Each month, he reduced his intake — from fruits, to leaves, to water, to air — and finally stopped even breathing. Standing on one leg, he meditated without moving, his mind fixed on Lord Vishnu alone.

The Earth trembled with the power of his penance. The gods became fearful and approached Lord Vishnu.

✨ Divine Reward

At last, Vishnu could no longer delay. He appeared before Dhruv, resplendent and radiant, holding the Shankha, Chakra, Gada, and Padma in His four arms.

Dhruv opened his eyes and gazed at the Lord with tears of joy. But he said nothing.

Vishnu asked him,

"Dear child, I am pleased. Ask me for any boon."

Dhruv bowed his head and said,

"O Lord, I sought You for a kingdom, but now that I have seen You, all those desires seem so small. I only wish to remember You always."

Vishnu, deeply touched, said:

"Because of your devotion, I grant you the highest place in the heavens. You shall become the Pole Star — firm, eternal, unmoving. Even great sages will look to you for direction. The Saptarishis will circle around you in the night sky."

👑 The Glorious Ending

Dhruv returned home, was welcomed by the king, and became a wise and just ruler. He ruled for 36,000 years (as per scripture), bringing peace and prosperity. When his time came, a celestial chariot arrived to take him to the heavens—not to the land of death, but to the stars.

Today, Dhruv Tara still shines in the northern sky, unmoved and brilliant. He is a symbol of faith, devotion, and determination.

🪔 What Makes Dhruv’s Story Unique?

He is the youngest known yogi in Hindu scriptures.

His goal changed — from seeking royal recognition to spiritual liberation.

His devotion was fearless, even when gods were worried.

He is honoured not only for his tapasya, but for his purity and transformation.

🌌 Did You Know?

Dhruva Tara (Polaris) is not just a star in the sky. In ancient India, it was seen as the axis of the cosmos, the symbol of truth that never moves.

The Saptarishis who orbit Dhruva are the stars of Ursa Major (Great Bear), visible in the night sky.

What We Learn from Dhruv’s Story:

Even a child, with true faith, focus, and determination, can achieve the impossible.

When the world turns away, we can always turn toward God and inner strength.

Greatness is not in power or position — it lies in selflessness and devotion.

So, the next time you look at the stars, try to spot the Pole Star, and remember the brave little boy who became eternal — Dhruv.