Story

There was once a great rishi (Saint) whose name was Mrikandu. Some times he felt very sad since he had no son. So he prayed to God Shiva day and night. At last, Shiva appeared before Mrikandu, and said:
"Mrikandu! I am very pleased with your tapas (Prayer). Ask for any boon that you desire."
"O great God", said Mrikandu, "I want a son."
"You shall have a son," said Shiva. "But you must now choose the kind of son you want. Do you wish to have a son perfect in every way, handsome and good and wise, and loved by the entire world, but doomed to be no older than his sixteen year? Or, do you wish to have an ordinary son who will live long, but will be devoid of every virtue? Choose."
Mrikandu and his wife were sorrowful: for to choose was not easy. How could they bear their son to die when he was sixteen? Yet how could they bear to have an ordinary son, like any other that come into the world, and had troubles and sufferings, and died at last, without leaving a name behind him? The more they thought, the more the choice puzzled them.

At last Mrikandu said:
"O great God, I will have the perfect son."

Shiva granted the prayer. "You shall have a son who will live only for sixteen years. He will be very wise and virtuous." With that Shiva disappeared.

So, in due course of time, Marudvati, the wife of Mrikandu, gave birth to a handsome child who shone brightly like the Sun-God himself. The child was named Markandeya. He was wise, and strong, and gentle, and kind. Everyone loved him, and to all gave he love also, spreading happiness wherever he went.

Year passed. His father and mother had not forgotten all these years what the great God Shiva had told them about their son. "No older than his sixteen year," had said Shiva, the great God. And their son, Markandeya, was in his sixteen year.
One day Mrikandu looked very sad. His wife too was in tears. Markandeya approached them and asked:
"What troubles you that both weep so bitterly?"
"It is for you that we grieve, my son," said the father. "We got you as a gift from Shiva. But He told us that you would live only for sixteen years. The sixteen years are now coming to an end. What shall we do if you die?"

When Markandeya heard this, he said with great confidence and cheerfulness: "Father, do not weep; do not grieve that I am to die. No, I shall not die. Is not the great God Shiva the conqueror of death? Is He not more powerful than death? To Him then shall I pray to grant me immortality."So saying, Markandeya went to the shores of the southern ocean and installed there a Linga of Shiva - a large round black pebble. Bathing thrice - morning, noon and night - he worshipped Shiva. At end of each worship, he sang prayers to the great God.

One night, after finishing his worship, Markandeya was about to sing his prayers to the great God Shiva when there stood before him. Yama, the God of Death.Approaching Markandeya, he cast his noose over the boy's person. Turning to him, Markandeya said:"Stay; stay for a while. Bear with me while I sing this prayer to Shiva. I will not leave this place before I finish it. Nothing is dearer to me than this prayer; no, not even my life." Yama's eyes turned red with anger. He roared, and said: "Fool! Do you hope to escape from me in this way? Know that counless Brahmans have met with death at my hands."Saying this, Yama threw the noose around Markadeya's neck tried to draw him by force to himself.At this moment, the Linga burst open and the great Shiva Himself came out of it. Raising His foot, He kicked Yama on his chest and ordered him to go back to his kingdom of Death. "And you shall not return to the world of the-things-that-pass, till I bid you," said Shiva. Markandya saw that Yama was defeated. He bowed his head before Shiva and praised Him with heart and soul.

Shiva was pleased with His devotee and made him one of the immortals and then disappeared into the Linga. Markandya came home and his parents were happy to see him come back alive. He told them of the boon that Shiva had granted him and they too blessed their son. After paying respect to his parents ,Markandeyar traveled to many holy cities and finally became One with the Lord.

This legend of Shiva killing death itself, is frozen in metal and held in worship at Tirukkadavur. Tirukkadavur is the shrine where thousands throng to celebrate shashti abda poorthi (60th birthdays), with the belief that the blessings of the deity enshrined would prolong their lives. Tirukkadavur is one of the 8 Veeratta temples celebrating Shiva as the destroyer of evil forces.