The Alumoottil pond, with its placid surface and abundant life, had always been a source of sustenance for the family and villagers alike. Yet, it held an air of mystery, its depths rumored to house forces beyond human understanding. One sultry summer evening, Mathevan Channar stood by the pond, spear in hand, preparing for a ritual that required a large carp. The villagers, curious and cautious, gathered at a respectful distance to watch.
The carp Channar sought was no ordinary fish. Known for its golden scales, it was considered sacred and was rarely seen, let alone caught. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Channar began his preparations. He placed a ceremonial lamp on the ground, its flickering flame casting long shadows on the water. With a deep breath, he started chanting, his voice resonating across the pond.
The water surface rippled unnaturally, as though responding to his call. The villagers gasped as a golden carp emerged from the depths, its scales shimmering like molten sunlight. It glided toward Channar, seemingly entranced by his voice.
Channar raised his spear, his movements deliberate and precise. Just as he was about to strike, the water erupted in a violent churn. A dark shadow rose from the depths, its form shifting and indistinct. The temperature around the pond dropped sharply, and a guttural voice echoed, Release what is mine.
The villagers froze, their fear palpable. Channar, however, remained unshaken. Lowering his spear, he addressed the shadow. This fish is not yours to claim. It is an offering for the divine, and I take it with reverence.
The shadow hissed, its form growing larger. You disrupt the balance, it roared, and the waters will not forgive.
Undeterred, Channar raised his hand and resumed chanting, his voice rising above the spirit wrath. The ceremonial lamp flame flared, its light piercing the darkness. The shadow writhed, its edges dissolving like smoke in the wind. With a final, anguished cry, it vanished beneath the surface, leaving the pond eerily calm.
Channar turned to the villagers, his expression stern. The waters have given their blessing, but they demand respect. Take only what you need, and offer gratitude for their bounty.
He lifted the carp, its golden scales gleaming even in the dim light, and carried it away to complete his ritual. The villagers dispersed, their awe and fear mingling in hushed whispers. From that day forward, the pond became a sacred site, its stillness a testament to the balance between man and nature.
