The Alummoottil family, renowned for their wealth and influence, decided to expand their godown to accommodate their growing agricultural surplus. The chosen site, however, was a Sarpa Kavu, a sacred grove dedicated to serpent deities. Despite warnings from elders and locals about the divine significance of the grove, the chieftain dismissed the concerns. “The land is ours,” he declared. “We cannot let superstition hinder progress.”
With that, the grove was cleared. The ancient trees were felled, and the sanctity of the kavu was destroyed. Unknown to the family, this grove had been the domain of Karkodakan, a mythical serpent feared for his highly toxic venom and fiery temper.
The First Bite
It began subtly. Workers clearing the land reported seeing a massive black snake slithering among the ruins of the grove. A few dismissed it as a harmless cobra, but fear spread when the first bite occurred.
Ravi, a young laborer, screamed in agony as Karkodakan struck him on the ankle. The venom coursed through his veins like wildfire. Within moments, his body turned rigid, his lips darkened, and his breathing grew shallow.
The Vaidyar (traditional healer) of the Alummoottil family was summoned. He was a renowned Visha Vaidya, skilled in treating snakebites, and his remedies had saved countless lives. But this was no ordinary venom. The moment he saw Ravi’s condition, he whispered, “This is the work of Karkodakan. His venom is beyond mortal antidotes.”
The family tried to carry on, but Karkodakan’s wrath grew. More bites followed—farmhands, a maidservant, and even the chieftain’s younger brother fell victim. The vaidyar treated each case, but none survived more than a few hours.
The Vaidyar’s Despair
The vaidyar worked tirelessly, mixing herbs and chanting mantras, but each attempt ended in failure. One night, he sat in the courtyard of the Nalukettu, his hands trembling. “This venom is not of this world,” he admitted to the chieftain. “It is laced with divine fury. I cannot fight this alone.”
The chieftain, now fearful for his family’s survival, asked, “What must we do?”
The vaidyar hesitated before replying. “We must call upon the Manthravadi Brahmins. Only they have the power to appease Karkodakan and bind his wrath.”
The Ritual Begins
The Brahmins arrived from neighboring manas, clad in white robes and armed with sacred chants. For days, they performed elaborate rituals in the remains of the Sarpa Kavu. Fires burned brightly as the priests chanted mantras to invoke the serpent gods. Offerings of milk, turmeric, and honey were placed at the edge of the grove.
On the third night, as the moon hung low, Karkodakan appeared. His massive body coiled around the ruins of the grove, his eyes glowing like embers. The air grew thick with tension as the priests confronted the serpent.
“You have desecrated my home,” Karkodakan hissed, his voice echoing through the night. “Why should I spare your lives?”
The chief priest stepped forward. “We seek your forgiveness, O great Karkodakan. A sanctuary will be built for you, more sacred than the one destroyed. We pledge to honor you as the protector of the Thekkedath Kaavu.”
Karkodakan remained silent for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he uncoiled and slithered toward the Thekkedath Kaavu, a grove within the family’s land. “I will stay,” he said, “but if my sanctuary is disturbed again, no manthra or medicine will save you.”
A Legacy of Reverence
The Thekkedath Kaavu was rebuilt with great care, and annual Sarpam Thullal rituals were established to honor the serpent gods. Karkodakan’s wrath faded, but the memory of his vengeance remained.
Even today, the people of Alummoottil tread carefully near the grove, their respect for Karkodakan etched deep into their hearts. The story of his wrath serves as a reminder that nature’s sanctity, once violated, demands retribution that even the most skilled hands cannot undo.
