Teraiyar Siddhar, a renowned disciple of Agastya Maharshi, is celebrated for his unmatched healing skills, deep knowledge of herbs, and contributions to the siddha tradition.
In an assembly of siddha purushas, one among them rose with urgency and spoke, “Guru Mahadeva! Please listen to this and help us be saved from your shishya — Teraiyar. We fear he has gone mad. His actions, if left unchecked, will bring danger to all our lives.”
With jada tied high upon his head and a long, flowing beard and moustache framing his face, Agastiya Maharishi turned and looked at the siddha purusha who had spoken. His gaze was steady, unmoved by panic, yet sharp enough to pierce through the layers of fear that hung in the air.
The siddha purusha continued, his voice now trembling with a mix of disbelief and distress.
“People must reap the karmaphala of what they themselves have sown. When you, Guru Mahadeva, are still present among us, how can Teraiyar — one among your own shishyas — behave as if he knows everything?
He interferes in the karmas of others. He is stopping people from facing their due sufferings. He is rescuing them from poverty as if karma can be bypassed by will. And not only that — he has even made promises that border on madness.
He has told them that he will turn the mountain into gold. Yes, he said that. He and his shishyas have placed the appropriate herbs all around, set fire to them, and now they’re sitting there — blowing upon the flames to feed them. So the normal mountain becomes a Golden mountain.
Your own shishya, Gurudeva… and yet he shows no fear of you.”
Upon hearing that Teraiyar had taken the Rasavada Vidya into his own hands, without command or sanction, Agastiyar’s expression changed. A fire rose in his eyes — not of anger alone, but of the fierce tapas of ages stirred into motion. He stood up from his seat with a suddenness that made the very winds pause.
The calm of the assembly was broken. The earth beneath seemed to recognize the weight of a rishi’s wrath. Agastiyar, the one whose silence could steady storms, now stood — furious.
Agastiyar had commanded his disciples, “Bring Teraiyar to me—immediately.” His voice, usually calm like the stillness of a deep forest, now carried a sharpness that startled them. Never before had they seen their Guru touched by anger. A quiet dread passed among them, and none dared delay. Without a word, they departed at once, hearts pounding, and soon returned—bringing Teraiyar Siddhar before Agastiyar.
With fiery eyes that blazed like the sun at dissolution, Agastiyar turned to Teraiyar. His voice, though steady, rumbled with a force that shook even the air around them: “Have you gone beyond your Guru in the vidyas?” The silence that followed was heavier than thunder. Before another breath could pass, Agastiyar stepped forward, gripped both legs of Teraiyar, and with an unimaginable force, tore his body into two & threw away.
All the assembled rishis stood frozen, awe-struck by the sheer force of what they had just witnessed. The silence that followed was not empty—it was heavy, reverberating with the power of Agastiyar’s wrath. Among those present were the devoted disciples of Teraiyar, who had accompanied their Guru to the court of Agastiyar. Now, as their eyes fell upon the torn remains of their beloved master—reduced to a bloodied heap—their hearts shattered. A silent sorrow welled up in their eyes, a grief too deep for words. Yet, not one among them moved. They could neither question nor pacify Agastiyar, for they knew they stood before one whose tapas and stature eclipsed them beyond measure. To oppose him was unthinkable. And so, they remained—bound by helplessness, drowned in the anguish of witnessing their Guru’s fate, yet powerless to act.
Just then, as silence gripped the court like a curse, one of Teraiyar’s disciples suddenly remembered the words of their Guru before they had set out: “Dear shishyas, my Guru is none other than Mahāmuni Agastiyar. He holds deep anger toward me. Today, he may very well tear me into two. So, take this herbal preparation with you—it is a sacred elixir, capable of rejoining sundered limbs and bringing one back from the grasp of death.”
In that moment of clarity, the disciple’s sorrow was overtaken by urgency. Without wasting a breath, the shishyas rushed forward, carefully retrieving the two bloodied halves of their Guru. With steady hands and unwavering faith, they applied the herbal essence to the torn body. The revival of Teraiyar had begun.
Life stirred once more within the body of Teraiyar. Flesh that had been torn now rejoined, breath returned, and the Siddhar slowly rose—restored by the very vidya he had passed on to his disciples. But there was no bitterness in his eyes, no trace of vengeance or pride. Instead, with folded hands and a heart full of surrender, Teraiyar turned toward the direction in which Agastiyar had departed. He bowed low, placing his head to the earth, and worshipped that sacred direction—honouring not only his Guru’s wrath, but the boundless compassion hidden within it. For even in destruction, the Guru had upheld dharma; and in his own humility, Teraiyar upheld the dignity of the shishya.
Teraiyar is now remembering the words of Saumini Maharishi speaking with the gravity of timeless wisdom: “Go to Agastiyar, child. He is like a perennial river—ever flowing, ever full. You may drink from his stream for lifetimes, yet he shall never run dry. Surrender yourself, and learn.”
Thus, obeying the words of Saumini Maharishi, Teraiyar had approached the great Agastiyar with folded hands and a heart free of pride. He bowed before the Maharishi and humbly requested, “Please accept me as your shishya. Let me walk the path under your guidance.”
Agastiyar looked upon him with the gaze of one who sees beyond lifetimes. A silence passed—deep, watchful. Then he spoke, his voice both piercing and compassionate:
“Teraiya! This human body is temporary—flesh, bone, and breath are but passing shadows. Yet you seek the permanent Jnana, the undying truth. How can impermanence hold permanence? If your longing is true, then your very body must transform—become free from decay, untouched by disease, untouched by time. Only then will you be able to receive and hold what you seek.”
He paused, then placed his hand gently over Teraiyar’s heart. “Always carry the ever-pervading Paramananda Shiva within. And know this—only the pure intention to serve the world selflessly can cleanse the Atma fully. Through service, surrender, and inner stillness, the eternal shall reveal itself.”
As the memory of Agastiyar’s words faded like a distant echo, Teraiyar sat still—his gaze heavy with the burden of reflection. In the quiet of his heart, a question rose like a whisper that refused to leave.
“What wrong have I done?”
He searched within. “Was it not out of compassion that I began this task? I only sought to transmute a lifeless mountain into a golden one—not for my name, not for power, but to serve. Look at the world now—poverty is everywhere. People struggle without food, their lives drowned in helplessness. If by creating gold, I could ensure they have the means to eat, to live with dignity, then why must I be punished? That is why I turned to the Rasavada vidya.”
There was no arrogance in his thoughts—only a sincere ache. He had walked the razor’s edge of siddhi and service, but now he stood wounded, unsure whether his path had crossed the line between tapas and transgression. The image of Agastiyar tearing him apart was not just a moment of wrath—it was a mirror of cosmic justice that he could not yet understand.
Gold was not the true transformation. What Teraiyar would become next… even the siddhas could not have foreseen.
Teraiyar Siddhar once again began burning the sacred herbs surrounding the mountain. The smoke curled upward, carrying its potent essence through the air. But this act disturbed the rishis who were engaged in deep tapas upon that very mountain. Feeling troubled, they went to Maharshi Agastya and voiced their complaints — which only served to further ignite his anger.
While doing this, Teraiyar thought to himself, “How can I die just because my body is torn into two pieces? I have learned to know the moment of my own death through the breath — a knowledge given to me by my guru, Agastya Maharshi himself. And he did not teach me this without reason; I earned it by passing the test he had set for me.”
He then recalled a past incident — the very moment that convinced Agastya Maharshi to teach him the advanced techniques of the siddha marga.
Once upon a time, there lived a king named Kashivarman. For a long time, he suffered from an unbearable headache, so severe that no remedy, treatment, or medicine could bring him relief. At last, in utter despair, he thought to himself that ending his life was the only way to escape this relentless torment.
Before taking his own life, the king decided to make one last attempt — to visit Agastya Maharshi at his ashrama. Reaching there, he fell at the sage’s feet.
Agastya looked at him and said, “You are a king — you should stand with your chest held high, with the gaurava of protecting and guiding your people. And here you are, kneeling before me. Get up! Do you even know the reason for your headache?”
Kashivarman looked at Agastya Maharshi, completely at a loss.
Agastya continued, “Kashivarman! One night, while you were sleeping, a small toad leapt onto your face. Without you realising it, the creature slipped into your nostril and made its way to your brain. Now, that toad lives inside your head, resting on your brain — and this is the true cause of your chronic headache.”
Hearing these words, Kashivarman felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. Stunned and shaken, he could hardly believe what he had just heard.
Kashivarman exclaimed, “Muni-shreshtha! Is this true? How is this possible? Can something like this really happen?”
Agastya replied, “There is nothing in this world that can be said to be impossible — no event lacks a precedent. Do not worry, Kashivarman. Through kapala chikitsa (cranial treatment), I will remove that toad and cure your unending headache.”
Using the root of a medicinal herb, Agastya induced Kashivarman into a state of unconsciousness. Within five minutes, he had opened the king’s skull.
There, upon the fluid-filled surface of the brain, the toad sat — its eyes rolling in all four directions.
Now Agastya silently thought about how to remove the toad.
If he tried to take it out with forceps, the toad might leap around inside the brain, damaging it — a risk he did not want to take.
Sitting nearby was Agastya’s disciple, Teraiyar. Seeing his guru’s concern and hesitation, Teraiyar immediately rose, fetched a small vessel of water, and placed it where the toad could see it. He then stirred the water to create ripples and sound.
At once, the toad leapt straight into the vessel!
Agastya Maharshi swiftly used the herb to close the skull.
A short while later, when King Kashivarman regained consciousness, his headache was completely gone.
From that day, Agastya Maharshi was deeply impressed by Teraiyar’s presence of mind and skill. He understood that this disciple not only had the knowledge of herbs but also the sharpness to act at the right moment without instruction.
It was this incident that convinced Agastya to teach Teraiyar the advanced techniques of the siddha marga — including the rare knowledge of determining one’s death through the breath.
It was after this incident that he came to be known as Teraiyar — the one who skillfully dealt with the terai (toad) that had lodged itself in the king’s head. From then on, his name carried the weight of both respect and recognition in the siddha tradition.
The treatment skills of Teraiyar spread far and wide, reaching every nook and corner of the world. His mastery over herbs, healing, and subtle techniques became renowned among kings, rishis, and common folk alike.
Teraiyar then remembered another incident. A Pandiya king had been suffering from a persistent pain in his hips for a long time. Even the raja vaidya — the royal physician — had failed to cure him. Because of this prolonged affliction, his back had become hunched.
Because he had lost the physical lakshanas of a king, no one respected him anymore. His regal presence had faded, and with it, the honour he once commanded.
Seeking a cure, the Pandiya king came to Agastya’s ashrama. After observing the king’s condition, Agastya Maharshi called for Teraiyar and instructed him to fetch certain herbs.
Teraiyar ventured into the forest in search of the required herbs. After a careful search, he found them and brought them back to Agastya Maharishi. He, then placed all the herbs into a vessel and set them to boil. Turning to Teraiyar, he said, “Teraiya, I must leave for an urgent matter. When the mixture thickens to the consistency of oil, put out the fire and place the vessel down.”
The fire burned steadily, and Teraiyar kept a careful watch for the moment when the mixture would reach the stage of oil.
Suddenly, a loud sound came from the roof above, sharp like an explosion splitting a mountain. Teraiyar looked up. Directly above the burning hearth, a curved bamboo — fixed to the ashram roof for a palanquin — hung suspended.
The rising steam from the boiling herbal extract struck the bamboo again and again, until the curve straightened abruptly. Realising that this was the source of the sound, Teraiyar understood that the straightening of the bent bamboo marked the precise moment to remove the vessel from the fire. Without delay, he took it down and set it aside.
Agastiya Maharishi, having finished his outside tasks, entered the ashram earlier than expected. When he saw the vessel of herbal extract already taken off the fire, a strong anger welled up within him.
“Hey! Teraiya! What have you done? You took down the herbal decoction before it was ready? Do you even know if it had reached the proper stage?” Agastiya Maharishi shouted sharply.
“Guru Nathar, please forgive me. I have taken it off at the correct stage. Look at the bamboo for the palanquin — once the oil’s steam has straightened the bent bamboo, that is the sign of readiness,” Teraiyar explained calmly.
Agastiya Maharishi saw the subtlety in his disciple’s understanding and was filled with delight.
Accordingly, Teraiyar took that oil and applied it to the back of the Pandya king, at the spot where there was a hunch. The hunch back disappeared without a trace.
One day, a yogi arrived at Agastiya Maharishi’s ashram. He suffered from unrelenting stomach pain and feared for his life. He pleaded for help, and the Maharishi gave him medicine. Yet, the illness did not heal.
The yogi, writhing in pain and crying out, received medicine from Teraiyar. It was the same preparation.
Using the bark of an Oak, Teraiyar carefully passed the medicine through an opening into his mouth —avoiding the yogi’s teeth—and delivered it deep into his throat.
Immediately, the disease was cured.
Teraiyar, with folded hands yet firm clarity, spoke to his guru Agastya Maharishi:
“Guru Deva! Your medicine hasn’t worked — it has lost its potency due to the interaction with the plaque and tartar in his teeth. That is why I used the oak bark, to directly deliver the medicine into his throat.”
This moment was not of disrespect but of insight. Theraiyar demonstrated the keen eye of a physician who could see beyond the surface — not just preparing medicine, but understanding the subtle obstacles within the body that blocked its action.
Here, his approach showed the essence of Siddha medicine: not merely treating with herbs, but applying intelligence, observation, and adaptability. Even before the modern world spoke of bioavailability or drug delivery systems, Theraiyar had already shown mastery in this principle.
Agastya Maharishi, seeing the depth of understanding in Teraiyar, permitted him to work on his own in a different place. From that moment, Teraiyar was acknowledged as a complete Siddha Purusha.
Though honored, Teraiyar was not happy about parting from his Guru. His heart longed to remain in the presence of Agastya Muni. Yet, as a true disciple, he knew he must obey his Guru’s command. With reverence, he accepted the instruction and departed.
He began to wander through deep jungles and towering mountains. In these silent abodes of nature, Teraiyar immersed himself in the study of countless herbs, uncovering their hidden secrets.
Days turned into months, and in the solitude of forests his outward form transformed. The once youthful physician now bore a thick beard, a matted locks, and the marks of tapas upon his body. His appearance reflected his journey — one who had stepped away from the world and become one with the wilderness.
Meanwhile, as time passed, Agastya Maharishi lost his sight. His shishyas grew deeply worried for their Guru and gathered around him, saying:
“Guru Deva! There is someone in the forest known as Anamaya. He holds the knowledge of even Sanjeevani itself. Shall we bring him to you? Surely, he will cure your blindness and restore your sight.”
Agastya Maharishi, with his divya-drshti, immediately realized who this person truly was. A gentle smile rose upon his face as he turned to his shishyas and said:
“Really! That is nice to know. Go then, bring him to me. But the climate is too hot — during your travel, take frequent rest under the shade of the tamarind trees.”
The shishyas followed the words of their Guru exactly. As instructed, they paused to rest particularly beneath tamarind trees during their journey. On the sixth day from the start of their travel, they finally reached Teraiyar.
But by then, their condition was dire. Their bodies had grown thin and bony, their faces pale. Many of them were spitting blood, afflicted by severe illness. The once-strong disciples of Agastya now stood before Teraiyar in a state of great suffering.
Looking at their condition, Teraiyar immediately understood the cause of their suffering. With calm assurance, he said to them:
“You need not worry — you will not die. I will join your journey to meet your Guru. But this time, while going, take your rest frequently under the shade of a neem tree.”
The shishyas of Agastya Maharishi followed Theraiyar’s advice faithfully. Resting under the shade of neem trees as he had instructed, their illness subsided. By the time they reached the ashram, their bodies had regained their old strength and form.
Meanwhile, Theraiyar too arrived at the ashram of Agastya Muni. Approaching his Guru with reverence, he gently dropped a few drops of herbal essence into the eyes of Agastya Siddha. At once, the Maharishi’s sight was restored; he got back his vision.
Agastya Maharishi, his eyes now bright with restored vision, gazed at the matted-haired siddhar standing before him. With a knowing smile, he said:
“This jaṭāmuḍi siddhar, who has mastered every single secret of herbs — is he not none other than Theraiyar?”
Hearing these words, Teraiyar was overcome with emotion. Tears welled in his eyes as he fell at the feet of Agastya Maharishi & was embracing legs of his Guru with deep devotion and humility.
Agastya Maharishi, with affection and pride, spoke further:
“I am very glad to see you, becoming a complete Siddha Purusha by mastering all the vidyas. Now, you have become a true doctor. I am in need of the kann-vedichaan herb. Can you bring me some?”
Having been reunited with his Guru after so long, Teraiyar could not bring himself to refuse Agastya Maharishi’s request. Yet, deep within, he knew that the kann-vedichaan herb was not easy to find.
For a moment, hopelessness and heaviness filled his heart, and he felt low. Still, bowing to his Guru’s will, Teraiyar said softly yet firmly:
“Yes, Gurudeva.”
The herb that Agastya Maharishi had asked for was no ordinary plant. The kann-vedichaan herb was a risky herb. The moment its bark is broken, it will release a sharp & poisonous fumes — and if those fumes touch the eyes, Teraiyar person would lose his sight instantly.
Theraiyar could not understand why Agastya Maharishi kept testing him again and again. A heavy sadness rose in his heart at his Guru’s behavior, choking his throat, leaving him unable to share his feelings with anyone.
He thought to himself:
“How is it, that he who lost his sight — and to whom I gave back his sight — now asks me to risk my own? How can this be justified?”
Unable to bear the weight of these thoughts, Theraiyar lifted his heart towards Amba, asking Her these questions in silence, seeking solace in the Mother’s presence.
Amba responded to Theraiyar’s prayers, appeared before him in all Her grace. She said to him:
“Teraiya! Leave your worries to me. You need not fetch that herb. I shall go on your behalf, bring the kann-vedichaan herb, and give it to you.”
Saying this, Amba disappeared from sight.
Within a few moments, Amba appeared again before Teraiyar, holding the kann-vedichaan herb in her hands. With compassion, She handed it over to the Teraiya Siddhar.
Teraiyar took the herb with reverence and came into the sannidhi of his Guru. The moment Agastya Maharishi beheld him holding the risky kann-vedichaan herb, he leapt with joy. With a radiant smile, he said:
“Teraiya! The more and more we beat gold in the fire, the brighter it shines. In the same way, I have put you through many fires, testing and refining you again and again — only to make you into a great Siddha. Now, you must help all beings in Bhuloka with your skills of rasavada.”
All these memories flashed before the sight of Theraiya Siddhar.
Theraiyar, who had once united “his own torn flesh and separated life” together to form a new body, hearing the lamentation of the assembled rishis, became disturbed in mind.
He entered into the dense forest filled with thorns, dug a deep pit, descended into it, closed it with a rock, and inside that pit began to perform tapas.
None knew for how many years Teraiyar remained inside that pit, absorbed in deep tapas.
Then, one day, the rock that sealed the pit suddenly burst open with a loud sound. From within, Teraiyar slowly opened his eyes, rising from the depths of his tapas.
As his vision cleared, he saw himself surrounded by a great gathering of rishis.
The rishis looked upon Teraiyar and said to him:
“It is only for the sake of serving humanity that you received the boon of eternity from Shiva. You are a maha unnata siddha purusha. Yet, by looking at the lowly nature of the manushya kula, how could you feel hurt and imprison yourself like this? Do you not know that this is how ordinary humans will behave? What then of your deep desire to serve humanity?”
Teraiyar looked at the rishis and said:
“Siddhars are those who, because of the maturity of janmantara jnanavasam (wisdom carried across many births), possess the power to perceive the evolutionary changes of the universe.
I attempted alchemy, not to buy the world with gold, but only so that living beings may survive.
Those who stand rooted in the path of yoga and practice rasavada are equal to the devas and even to Shiva Himself.
For Siddhars, the state of samadhi is nothing new.”
“The Siddhars who have seen through maya increase their clarity of mind and, while still in the body, unite with Shiva.”
“A Siddhar who has attained completeness, by expanding his atma-gnana (self-knowledge), renounces memory, action, and all else while still in the body, and merges with Shiva.”
“He unites with the Supreme, becoming Parabrahman, pervading everywhere.”
All the rishis, folding their hands, stood before Teraiyar — the great Maha Siddhar — seeking upadesa from him.
The end..
To read about Nandi bhagavan, who is the first & foremost siddha purusha, you shall click here.
