The Two Dolls | A Folk Tale from Kerala

Many generations ago, in a village in Kerala, lived a man named Perunthachan. People in nearby towns knew him well. Whenever someone planned to build a temple, a large house, or a tank, they often said the same thing: “Let us call Perunthachan.” Over time, his name became closely associated with the brilliance of ancient Indian architecture, where careful planning and practical wisdom always went together.

Perunthachan never behaved like a distant master who only gave instructions. He preferred to stay near the construction site. When carpenters carved wooden beams, he stood beside them and watched the work closely. When masons shaped stones with hammer and chisel, he often examined every detail. At mealtimes he sat with the workers and shared their food. Because of this habit, the laborers respected him and worked with enthusiasm.

One year, villagers from a nearby temple came to meet him. Their temple needed a tank where devotees could bathe before entering the shrine. In those days such temple tanks were common and formed an important part of temple life. People washed before prayer, and the stored water helped with many daily temple activities.

Perunthachan agreed to build the tank, and the work began soon after. Laborers dug the ground while others arranged large stone blocks along the sides. The steady sound of tools echoed around the work site. Before long, however, the temple committee members began arguing about the shape of the tank.

One member insisted on a square tank. Another argued strongly for a rectangular one. A third suggested an oval shape, saying it would look more graceful. Yet another person wanted the tank to be circular. Each man defended his idea with great confidence, and none of them seemed ready to give up his opinion.

Perunthachan heard them all out. He said very little while the discussion continued. After several days of debate, he simply asked the workers to continue the construction.

The tank slowly took shape as the laborers carved steps that led down to the wat er. When the work finished, the villagers gathered around the structure to see the result. As they walked around the tank, they noticed something curious.

From one side the tank looked square. Move a little farther and it appeared rectangular. Stand at another point and it seemed oval. From yet another angle it looked almost circular.

The committee members smiled at one another. Each man believed the tank matched his own suggestion. Perunthachan had solved the argument without rejecting anyone’s idea. Clever designs like this later became examples people mentioned while discussing the history of temple architecture.

Perunthachan’s son had watched everything carefully. After the villagers left, he approached his father with a question.

“Father,” he said, “there is a river not far from this temple. If devotees can bathe in the river, why would they come to the tank?”

Perunthachan thought for a moment before replying. The river, he explained, lay a short distance away. Many visitors might prefer bathing near the temple rather than walking all the way to the river.

The young man considered this and then spoke again. “What if the river flowed closer to the temple?” he asked.

Perunthachan smiled. Changing the course of a river sounded difficult, but he did not stop his son from trying.

“If you believe it can be done,” he said, “go ahead and try.”

The young man accepted the challenge. Over the next few weeks he studied the land around the temple. He watched how rainwater moved across the fields and how the ground sloped toward the river. Little by little he began guiding the river in a slightly different direction.

It took patience. The work was slow. But in the end the river changed its path and began flowing near the temple tank.

The villagers stood watching the new course of the river. Many of them had never seen anything like it before. The young man’s work reminded them of the knowledge behind many ancient water management systems, where builders carefully guided water and stored it for daily use.

However, the river created a new problem. Anyone visiting the temple now had to cross the flowing water before reaching the entrance.

Once again the villagers approached Perunthachan. This time they asked him to build a bridge across the river so that devotees could reach the temple easily.

Perunthachan agreed and soon began the construction. Workers carried stone and wood to the riverbank, and before long the bridge stood firmly over the flowing water.

Yet Perunthachan added something unexpected to the structure.

At one end of the bridge he placed a mechanical doll. Whenever someone walked across the bridge, the doll dipped its mouth into the river and sprayed water toward the passerby. Travelers crossing the bridge often got splashed. Some laughed, while others stepped back in surprise.

Perunthachan watched the scene quietly and seemed to enjoy the reactions.

One afternoon his son crossed the bridge. The doll sprayed water straight onto his face. The young man laughed and continued walking as if nothing unusual had happened.

The next morning the villagers noticed something new.

Another doll stood at the opposite end of the bridge. Whenever the first doll tried to spray water at someone crossing the bridge, the second doll suddenly slapped it. The blow turned the doll’s head aside, and the water splashed harmlessly into the river instead of onto the traveler.

People soon realized what had happened.

Perunthachan’s son had built the second doll.

When Perunthachan saw the clever device, he smiled. The young man had found a simple way to defeat the trick. Rather than feeling disappointed, the old craftsman felt proud. Creativity like this had always played a role in many ancient engineering marvels, and it reflected the tradition of famous Indian architects who shaped temples and cities.

Stories about Perunthachan still circulate in Kerala today. They remind people that the wisdom behind ancient Indian engineering did not come from books alone. Builders learned from experience, observed the land carefully, and passed their knowledge to the next generation. Sometimes, as in this folk story, the student discovered an even clever solution than the teacher.

If You Liked This Folk Tale…

If you enjoyed this story about Perunthachan and the ingenuity behind ancient Indian architecture, you might also enjoy another fascinating tale from southern India. In our previous post, we shared a thought-provoking Tamil Nadu folk tale that explores the dangers of blame-shifting and the failure of leadership. Just like the story of Perunthachan, it offers a glimpse into how traditional stories from different regions of India carry powerful lessons about human behavior. You can read it here.