Whenever I visit Melaka and watch the ships lying anchored or ploughing through the Straits of Melaka, I’m reminded of the Portuguese invasion and the glorious days of the Melaka Sultanate.

But to those like me who know that Malaysian history does not start with the founding of Melaka or the arrival of Islam, the sea also whispers of an earlier time.

I can sail in my mind to the early centuries CE, when vessels from distant shores crossed the Bay of Bengal, making their way to and from the ports of Tamilakam in southern India and Kadaram (today’s Kedah). And I can sense the pulse of the bustling trade and rivalries that animated these waters between the 7th and 11th centuries.

History, the changing yet eternal waves tell us, is written deeply in narrow seas through which ships must pass.

The Straits of Melaka, and its northern gateway Kadaram or Kalah, was one such place — a vital first landfall for many mariners venturing from India across the open ocean.

The sea, if you listen carefully, seems quietly amused by modern leaders and strategists losing sleep over maritime chokepoints — blockades in the Strait of Hormuz amid the Iran-US-Israel war that has disrupted trade and raised the cost of living everywhere, or worries that the Straits of Melaka might one day face a similar fate.

They speak of international rivalries and trade disruptions as if these are entirely modern anxieties.

They are not.

More than a thousand years ago, similar pressures stirred the royal Chola courts of southern India.

By the eleventh century, the Chola Dynasty had become a formidable naval power, its prosperity flowing along the sea lanes that connected it to the wealth of Song Dynasty China.

Standing across this oceanic highway was Srivijaya, a maritime confederation rooted in Sumatra, with influence stretching over many ports, including Kadaram at the northern mouth of the Straits of Melaka.

Kadaram was no ordinary harbour. It served as a crucial entrepôt and sanctuary. After the punishing crossing of the Bay of Bengal, Tamil ships docked here for fresh water, ship repairs and a place to wait for the seasonal monsoon winds to shift before venturing further east.

It hummed with many tongues as silk, spices, aromatics, textiles, resins and other goods changed hands.

For a long time, ties between the Cholas and Srivijaya were amicable, bound by commerce. That understanding fractured in 1025 CE when Emperor Rajendra Chola I launched a bold naval expedition. His fleet struck several Srivijayan centres, including the capital region in Sumatra – where they took the Sri Vijayan king prisoner – and the important port of Kadaram.

Chola inscriptions speak proudly of his navy capturing the “prosperous Kadaram” and carrying away the ruler’s ceremonial gates and treasures. It was such an important centre that Rajendra Chola was given the title “Kadaram Kondan,” or conqueror of Kadaram after this victorious expedition.

Why did Rajendra Chola attack a former friend? Historians still debate the precise reasons but most agree that it was largely due to Srivijaya becoming greedy.

Srivijaya wanted to control the entire ocean trade between India and China, so much so that it even spread misinformation about the Chola Empire to the Song rulers, claiming the Cholas were a minor power subservient to Srivijaya.

It began imposing trade restrictions and heavy levies on those using the ports, and apparently even forced Tamil merchants to dock at its ports under threat of violence.

For the powerful Chola merchant guilds – such as the Ainurruvar and Manigramam – this was an existential crisis and they complained to the Chola ruler.

There is also a suggestion that Rajendra’s desire for prestige and wider influence may have been a contributory cause. If so, it must have been a minor consideration because Rajendra Chola was not interested in conquering or ruling this region.

The naval expedition was a sharp strike to loosen the Srivijayan kingdom’s grip on the sea lanes and protect the flow of trade. The fleet left for Tamilakam after teaching the Srivijaya rulers a lesson and opening up the sea lanes.

Decades later, in 1067–1068 CE, another Chola ruler, Virarajendra, sent forces to Kadaram to help a local prince caught in Srivijayan internal rebellions and succession struggles. Once order was restored, the Chola fleet withdrew.

Kadaram regained greater local autonomy, though it remained within the shifting Srivijayan world.

These raids did not destroy Srivijaya overnight, but they added to its gradual weakening, alongside other pressures from Java and changing trade patterns. In the centuries that followed, the political landscape of the Malay Peninsula became more fragmented. New chiefdoms and port-states rose, eventually leading to the emergence of the Melaka Sultanate in the 15th century, which would thrive on the very same straits.

The story of Kadaram and the straits carries a quiet lesson that still resonates. Then, as now, control over these narrow waters meant influence and prosperity.

Today the Straits of Melaka carry about a quarter of global trade, and far to the west, the Strait of Hormuz remains a fragile artery for the world’s oil. Both remind us how vulnerable — and how vital — such passages are.

The Chola expeditions show that when chokepoints are squeezed too tightly, whether by excessive control or ambition, responses eventually come — sometimes from across the sea.

Still, the straits endure. They have outlasted empires and shifted with the winds of history. For Malaysia and Asean, the waters of Kadaram and Melaka are more than geography. They are living corridors of trade, culture and memory.

One can only hope that today’s leaders and superpowers, in studying modern shipping lanes and strategy, will also study ancient inscriptions. If they do, they will surely be reminded that narrow seas shape wide destinies. And when you press too hard upon them, the currents of history have a way of pushing back.

They remind us, whether we listen to their whispers or not, that the sea washes away even the grandest designs of kings, leaving only its timeless rhythm behind.

The next time you are in Melaka, listen carefully and you may just hear this rhythm.

Read also: Chola Copper Plates unravel forgotten Malaysian history

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.