You must read this beautiful story; it will bring tears to your eyes.
Most of you have probably been to Puri to have a darshan (holy sight) of Lord Jagannath. On the way to Puri, there is a village called “Malati Patapur”. Previously, the name of that village was Patapur; over time, its name was changed to Malati Patapur. There is a beautiful and heart-wrenching story behind this name change.
In the village of Patapur lived a poor family. The family consisted of a husband, a wife, their young son, and a little daughter named Malati. The man worked as a laborer in others’ fields, and whatever he earned was enough for the family of four to live happily without any complaints. But even the mightiest of warriors surrender before the cruelty of fate, so what is a mere human? Suddenly one evening, while returning from work in the fields, the husband died from a snakebite. The poor wife was shattered. At that time, her son was 5 years old and her daughter Malati was 3. Though the camphor had evaporated, the cloth that held it remained (a saying meaning the main provider was gone, but his responsibilities were left behind). In the babbling words of her little son and the crawling steps of her little daughter Malati, the wife slowly tried to forget the sorrow of losing her husband.
But who can alter the decree of destiny? Like a burden on top of a burden, before she could even forget the death of her husband, her son also died from a similar snakebite. Her mental state became like that of a body with a broken spine. Two years passed in the blink of an eye. The woman would wash dishes in one house and sweep in another, and with whatever little she earned, she and her 5-year-old daughter Malati would survive, eating one meal and fasting for the next. In Odisha, where thirteen festivals are celebrated in twelve months with great splendor, Rakhi Purnima or Gahma Purnima is no exception. Two days before Rakhi Purnima, Malati’s friends were buying rakhis.
Seeing this, the little child Malati went to her mother and insisted, “Oh Mother, Ma! Give me money too! I also want to buy a rakhi.”
Caressing Malati’s head, her mother took out a ten-paisa coin she had earned from working at someone’s house and had tied in the corner of her sari, and placed it in Malati’s hand. The next morning, Malati went to the shop and bought a rakhi. She learned from her friends that it is tied on the hands of brothers. In the evening, after finishing her play, Malati returned home. Her mother, exhausted from a whole day’s work, was sleeping on a torn mat on the floor. Sitting beside her mother, Malati asked, “Mother, where is my brother? All my friends will tie rakhis on their brothers’ hands. Rakhi Purnima is in two days, tell me where my brother is, I also want to tie a rakhi on my brother’s hand.” The mother burst into tears.
Taking Malati in her lap, she said, “Your brother’s name is Jaga Bhai, and he lives in the Srimandir (the great temple of Puri). You will tie the rakhi on his hand.”
Little five-year-old Malati, what did she know of the world, what did she know of attachment and illusion? Waking up at 4 in the morning, holding the rakhi in her hand, Malati set off towards the Srimandir to tie a rakhi on the hand of her Jaga Bhai, as her mother had told her. Asking people for directions all along the way, on her tiny, bare feet, Malati reached the Srimandir, ten kilometers away from her village. To every priest, servitor, and cook she saw, she asked, “Have any of you seen my Jaga Bhai? He lives in this temple.” But who would know who her Jaga Bhai was? Everyone gave the same answer: “No, we don’t know.”
All the temple rituals and rites were completed, and the doors closed for the night (Pahada). Malati kept searching for her Jaga Bhai. A 5-year-old child, without food or water all day, on top of that having walked ten kilometers barefoot, her feet were covered in blisters. To relieve the day’s fatigue, after the temple doors closed, unable to find her brother, she cried and cried until she fell asleep like a frail, withered human being in a corner of the Singhadwara (the Lion’s Gate).
In the dead of night, when the whole city was silent, someone came, stroked Malati’s head, and called, “Malati, oh Malati, wake up now! I am your Jaga Bhai. Come quickly, tie the rakhi, and go home. Your mother has been searching for you all day.”
The day’s exhaustion vanished from Malati’s body in an instant. Happily, she tied the rakhi and set off for home. As she was leaving, she stopped, turned back, and said to her Jaga Bhai, “Brother, you also come with me. I will be scared on the way alone.” Looking at Malati’s face, Jaga Bhai said, “I have work to do, I will come later. You go alone, I am walking behind you. Whenever you feel scared, just say one thing – ‘Jaga Bhai, where are you? I am scared.’ And I will appear right beside you.” Malati walked home happily and reached safely. Her mother asked Malati and understood that she had gone to the temple and had come back after tying a rakhi on her Jaga Bhai’s hand. The mother couldn’t fully understand her daughter’s words and thought, “She is a small child, she is saying whatever comes to her mind.” The mother, who had been exhausted searching for Malati all day, was so happy to have her back that she did not let any other thought enter her mind.
The next morning, on the day of Rakhi Purnima, when the doors of the temple of the Lord of the Universe, the Great-Armed Jagannath, were opened, everyone was astonished, everyone was surprised! How could a rakhi be tied on the Lord’s hand before Rakhi Purnima?
The news reached the Gajapati Maharaja (the King of Puri). The king immediately arrived at the temple. All the servitors were asked, “Who came to the temple yesterday after the doors were closed?”
Everyone had the same answer: “We do not know!”
The Maharaja prostrated himself in prayer before the Lord. In a divine dream, the Lord revealed, “Malati from the village of Patapur is my sister. She came yesterday to tie a rakhi on my hand. But none of you let her meet me. At night, she was sleeping near the Lion’s Gate. I was compelled to go myself to wear the rakhi from her hand.” The king inquired with the head priest and came to know that indeed, a 5-year-old girl had come the previous day, searching for her Jaga Bhai.
The king, along with all the priests and attendants, reached Malati’s house in Patapur village. Malati’s mother was astonished to see the king, and little Malati, terrified at the sight of the king, clung to her mother. Her mother knew that Malati had gone to the temple the previous day. Malati’s mother immediately went and, holding the king’s feet, begged for forgiveness, saying, “Your Majesty, my daughter went to the temple yesterday without informing me. She is a small child; please forgive whatever mistake she has made, my Lord. Whatever punishment is to be given, give it to me, but please forgive Malati, O King.”
The Maharaja, along with all the priests and attendants, rushed towards Malati and fell at her feet. “Oh, Mother! Forgive us, for we could not recognize you. Lord Narayan himself left his jeweled throne for you and came outside, yet we wretched souls did not let you inside the temple. Oh, Mother, you are the sister of the crown jewel of crores of Odias. We are the servants of your servants. Will you not forgive us?”
After asking for forgiveness from Malati, they all returned to the Srimandir. And from that day on, the Maharaja changed the name of Patapur to Malati Patapur.
Tie a rakhi worthy of Lord Jagannath’s own wrist.
Chandan lagi seva(sandal wood) 
