In the warm and humid nights of Kerala, where the breeze carries the scent of jasmine and the sound of distant temple bells, there stands an ancient banyan tree near the edge of a forgotten footpath. Villagers say that on certain moon filled evenings, when the mist glows like silver thread and the shadows dance in quiet patterns, a woman dressed in white wanders near that tree. Her hair flows like glossy black water, her eyes shine like polished amber, and her feet never touch the soil.
She is the Yakshi, the night spirit of justice, whose beauty conceals a purpose older than kingdoms.
Her story begins long before the modern villages were built. According to elders, the Yakshi was once a woman wronged by a deceitful man. Betrayed and abandoned, she died near the banyan tree, and her spirit rose with a power shaped by sorrow and moral fury. She became a guardian against men who misused trust, corrupted their vows, or preyed upon those weaker than themselves.
One evening, a young cloth merchant named Aravind made his way home after a successful day at the market. He was known for his charm, his handsome smile, and his talent for bending the truth to suit his needs. Many in the village whispered that Aravind had promised affection to several women while honoring none. He laughed at such warnings, believing himself too clever for consequence.
As he neared the banyan tree, he saw a woman standing beneath its branches. Moonlight drew a radiant halo around her. She looked lost, delicate, and breathtaking.
Explore the mysterious creatures of legend, from guardians of the sacred to bringers of chaos
Aravind stepped closer. “Good lady, why are you alone at this hour” he asked.
The woman turned. Her eyes shimmered with a strange, inviting warmth. “I am waiting for someone kind enough to guide me,” she replied softly. “Will you walk with me for a while”
Aravind felt his pride swell. Here was another chance to impress, to boast, to build another false story. He smiled and offered his hand.
The woman reached out, her touch cool as water from a deep well.
They walked beneath the banyan tree. Aravind spoke of his wealth and future plans, adorning his words with lies glittering like cheap jewels. The woman listened, her smile never fading.
At last she stopped and faced him fully. “Tell me,” she asked gently, “do you speak the truth to those who trust you”
Aravind laughed. “Truth is whatever people want to hear,” he said. “And I give it freely.”
The wind grew still. Even the crickets paused their chorus.
The woman stepped closer. “Then hear this truth,” she whispered. “I am the Yakshi who judges the hearts of men.”
Her glow brightened. Her hair rose like dark smoke. Her eyes deepened into endless gold.
Aravind stumbled backward, fear flooding him. “No. Please. I meant no harm.”
But the Yakshi moved with the grace of moonlight. “Every lie wounds a promise,” she said. “Every false vow twists the thread of trust. And every heart you played with calls for justice now.”
She touched his chest with her cool palm. Aravind felt his strength ebbing away like mist dissolving in sunlight. His breath grew thin, his body grew cold, and the Yakshi drew from him the force he had always used to deceive.
When she released him, he fell gently to the roots of the banyan tree, pale but alive. The Yakshi never sought death for those she judged. She sought understanding.
Aravind gasped as the world returned to him. The Yakshi watched with a calm and steady gaze.
“Your life remains,” she said, “but it must be lived differently. Let this night shape your truth.”
She stepped backward, and her form slowly dissolved into the shimmering branches until she vanished entirely.
Aravind lay beneath the tree for a long time, trembling and humbled. When dawn arrived, he walked home quietly, his usual pride replaced with a sincere resolve. From that day onward, he spoke with honesty, treated others with respect, and never again allowed vanity to cloud his heart.
Word of his transformation spread through the village. Some believed he had merely grown wiser. Others knew that the Yakshi had tested him.
Many in Kerala still speak softly about the Yakshi. Some fear her. Some respect her. And some see her as a necessary reminder that beauty can be a warning and illusion can be a teacher. They say that under banyan trees, where roots twist like ancient stories and shadows linger like unanswered questions, the Yakshi still wanders. She glows with moonlit radiance, watching for those who walk the path of deceit.
And when she finds them, she offers a choice between falsehood and truth, between vanity and humility, between the shadowed heart and the honest one.
Author’s Note
The Yakshi embodies the belief that spiritual forces protect the balance of trust within a community. She teaches that beauty can conceal wisdom, and that those who misuse affection or commit moral deceit cannot escape the consequences of their actions. Her tale reminds us that truth is not merely spoken. It is lived.
Knowledge Check
1. Why did the Yakshi first appear beneath the banyan tree?
She was born from betrayal and rose as a spirit of justice.
2. What was Aravind known for in the village?
For charming others and telling lies.
3. How did the Yakshi test Aravind?
By appearing as a lost woman seeking help.
4. What truth did the Yakshi reveal to Aravind?
That she judges the hearts of deceitful men.
5. What effect did her touch have on Aravind?
It drained his strength and humbled him.
6. What did Aravind learn after the encounter?
He learned to live with honesty and sincerity.
