The Alummoottil Nalukettu, with its sprawling courtyards and weathered wooden beams, had withstood the passage of centuries. Its walls were steeped in stories—some of pride, others of pain. But one tale was spoken only in hushed tones: the story of Marutha, the demoness bound to the locked storeroom in the eastern wing.
The Forbidden Door
The storeroom had always been locked, its purpose long forgotten. It was the chieftain, Kuthakkakkaran Sekharan Channar, who had forbidden anyone from opening it. “Never touch that door,” he had commanded. “Let it remain shut for as long as this house stands.”
For years, the door stood undisturbed, a relic of an old mystery. But curiosity has a way of creeping into the cracks of forbidden tales.
One stormy evening, Devaki, a young bride new to the Alummoottil family, wandered into the eastern wing. The wind howled through the corridors, and the flickering lamps cast shadows that danced on the walls. She stopped in front of the storeroom.
“I wonder what’s inside,” she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible over the storm.
Her fingers brushed the rusted lock. It felt unnaturally cold, sending a shiver through her spine.
“Devaki!” called an elderly servant from the kitchen. “You shouldn’t be there!”
Startled, she turned. “Why not? What’s behind this door?”
The servant’s face paled. “It is where Marutha sleeps. Do not awaken her. She brings only death.”
The Door Opens
But Devaki’s curiosity had already been ignited. That night, as the household slept, she returned to the storeroom with a lamp in hand.
The lock, which had seemed immovable earlier, now clicked open with surprising ease. She hesitated, her hand trembling on the handle. “It’s just a door,” she whispered to herself. “Stories can’t hurt me.”
The door creaked as it opened, revealing a dark, musty room. At its center was an ornate chest, its gold trim tarnished with age. The air felt heavy, pressing against her chest.
As she stepped inside, a low, guttural whisper filled the room.
“Who dares disturb me?”
Devaki froze. “Who’s there?” she stammered, her voice trembling.
The chest’s lid creaked open slowly, and a figure began to emerge. Marutha, a spectral demoness, rose with an eerie grace. Her long hair swirled as if carried by an unseen wind, and her hollow eyes burned with malevolence.
“You’ve set me free,” Marutha hissed, her voice like nails scraping on stone. “And now, you will pay for their sins.”
A Plea for Mercy
Devaki fell to her knees. “Please, I didn’t mean to disturb you!” she cried.
Marutha laughed, a sound that echoed like thunder. “They locked me away, and now you will bear their curse.”
The demoness stretched her clawed hands toward Devaki, who screamed as the lamp fell from her grasp. Shadows enveloped the room, and the door slammed shut with a deafening bang.
The Exorcism
The next morning, the family found the storeroom locked once more. Devaki was gone, and a faint, acrid smell lingered in the air. In desperation, the chieftain summoned Brahmin priests from seven manas to rid the family of the curse.
The priests chanted ancient mantras for seven days, performing elaborate rituals to subdue Marutha. On the final day, the demoness appeared before them in the flickering firelight.
“You cannot banish me!” she roared. “This is my home now!”
The head priest stepped forward, his voice steady. “We cannot banish you, Marutha, but we can offer you a place of honor. Will you take it?”
Marutha paused, her fiery eyes narrowing. “What do you offer?”
“A shrine,” he replied. “A temple where you will be worshipped, and your wrath will be appeased.”
The demoness laughed, her form dissolving into smoke. “Build me a temple, and I will wait. But do not forget me, or I will return.”
A Legacy Lives On
True to their word, the family consecrated a shrine for Marutha at the Thekkedath temple, where she is worshipped as a guardian spirit to this day. The storeroom remains sealed, a silent reminder of the demoness’s curse. And on stormy nights, some say they still hear her voice echoing through the corridors, whispering, “Do not forget me.”
