There was a king called Ashvapati. The king had a
daughter, who was so good and beautiful that she was called Sâvitri, which is
the name of a sacred prayer of the Hindus. When Savitri grew old enough, her
father asked her to choose a husband for herself. These ancient Indian
princesses were very independent, you see, and chose their own princely
suitors.
Savitri consented and travelled in distant regions,
mounted in a golden chariot, with her guards and aged courtiers to whom her
father entrusted her, stopping at different courts, and seeing different
princes, but not one of them could win the heart of Savitri. They came at last
to a holy hermitage in one of those forests that in ancient India were reserved
for animals, and where no animals were allowed to be killed. The animals lost
the fear of man — even the fish in the lakes came and took food out of the
hand. For thousands of years no one had killed anything therein. The sages and
the aged went there to live among the deer and the birds. Even criminals were
safe there. When a man got tired of life, he would go to the forest; and in the
company of sages, talking of religion and meditating thereon, he passed the
remainder of his life.
Now it happened that there was a king, Dyumatsena,
who was defeated by his enemies and was deprived of his kingdom when he was
struck with age and had lost his sight. This poor, old, blind king, with his
queen and his son, took refuge in the forest and passed his life in rigid
penance. His boy's name was Satyavân.
It came to pass that after having visited all the
different royal courts, Savitri at last came to this hermitage, or holy place.
Not even the greatest king could pass by the hermitages, or Âshramas as they
were called, without going to pay homage to the sages, for such honour and
respect was felt for these holy men. The greatest emperor of India would be
only too glad to trace his descent to some sage who lived in a forest,
subsisting on roots and fruits, and clad in rags. We are all children of sages.
That is the respect that is paid to religion. So, even kings, when they pass by
the hermitages, feel honoured to go in and pay their respects to the sages. If
they approach on horseback, they descend and walk as they advance towards them.
If they arrive in a chariot, chariot and armour must be left outside when they
enter. No fighting man can enter unless he comes in the manner of a religious
man, quiet and gentle.
So Savitri came to this hermitage and saw there
Satyavan, the hermit's son, and her heart was conquered. She had escaped all
the princes of the palaces and the courts, but here in the forest-refuge of
King Dyumatsena, his son, Satyavan, stole her heart.
When Savitri returned to her father's house, he
asked her, "Savitri, dear daughter, speak. Did you see anybody whom you
would like to marry " Then softly with blushes, said Savitri, "Yes,
father." "What is the name of the prince?" "He is no
prince, but the son of King Dyumatsena who has lost his kingdom — a prince
without a patrimony, who lives a monastic life, the life of a Sannyasin in a
forest, collecting roots and herbs, helping and feeding his old father and
mother, who live in a cottage."
On hearing this, the father consulted the Sage
Nârada, who happened to be then present there, and he declared it was the most
ill-omened choice that was ever made. The king then asked him to explain why it
was so. And Narada said, "Within twelve months from this time the young
man will die." Then the king started with terror, and spoke,
"Savitri, this young man is going to die in twelve months, and you will
become a widow: think of that! Desist from your choice, my child, you shall
never be married to a short-lived and fated bridegroom." "Never mind,
father; do not ask me to marry another person and sacrifice the chastity of
mind, for I love and have accepted in my mind that good and brave Satyavan only
as my husband. A maiden chooses only once, and she never departs from her
troth." When the king found that Savitri was resolute in mind and heart,
he complied. Then Savitri married prince Satyavan, and she quietly went from
the palace of her father into the forest, to live with her chosen husband and
help her husband's parents. Now, though Savitri knew the exact date when
Satyavan was to die, she kept it hidden from him. Daily he went into the depths
of the forest, collected fruits and flowers, gathered faggots, and then came back
to the cottage, and she cooked the meals and helped the old people. Thus their
lives went on until the fatal day came near, and three short days remained
only. She took a severe vow of three nights' penance and holy fasts, and kept
her hard vigils. Savitri spent sorrowful and sleepless nights with fervent
prayers and unseen tears, till the dreaded morning dawned. That day Savitri
could not bear him out of her sight, even for a moment. She begged permission
from his parents to accompany her husband, when he went to gather the usual
herbs and fuel, and gaining their consent she went. Suddenly, in faltering
accents, he complained to his wife of feeling faint, "My head is dizzy,
and my senses reel, dear Savitri, I feel sleep stealing over me; let me rest
beside thee for a while." In fear and trembling she replied, "Come,
lay your head upon my lap, my dearest lord." And he laid his burning head
in the lap of his wife, and ere long sighed and expired. Clasping him to her,
her eyes flowing with tears, there she sat in the lonesome forest, until the
emissaries of Death approached to take away the soul of Satyavan. But they
could not come near to the place where Savitri sat with the dead body of her
husband, his head resting in her lap. There was a zone of fire surrounding her,
and not one of the emissaries of Death could come within it. They all fled back
from it, returned to King Yama, the God of Death, and told him why they could
not obtain the soul of this man.
Then came Yama, the God of Death, the Judge of the
dead. He was the first man that died — the first man that died on earth — and
he had become the presiding deity over all those that die. He judges whether,
after a man has died, he is to be punished or rewarded. So he came himself. Of
course, he could go inside that charmed circle as he was a god. When he came to
Savitri, he said, "Daughter, give up this dead body, for know, death is
the fate of mortals, and I am the first of mortals who died. Since then,
everyone has had to die. Death is the fate of man." Thus told, Savitri
walked off, and Yama drew the soul out. Yama having possessed himself of the
soul of the young man proceeded on his way. Before he had gone far, he heard
footfalls upon the dry leaves. He turned back. "Savitri, daughter, why are
you following me? This is the fate of all mortals." "I am not
following thee, Father," replied Savitri, "but this is, also, the
fate of woman, she follows where her love takes her, and the Eternal Law
separates not loving man and faithful wife." Then said the God of Death,
"Ask for any boon, except the life of your husband." "If thou
art pleased to grant a boon, O Lord of Death, I ask that my father-in-law may
be cured of his blindness and made happy." "Let thy pious wish be
granted, duteous daughter." And then the King of Death travelled on with
the soul of Satyavan. Again the same footfall was heard from behind. He looked
round. "Savitri, my daughter, you are still following me?" "Yes
my Father; I cannot help doing so; I am trying all the time to go back, but the
mind goes after my husband and the body follows. The soul has already gone, for
in that soul is also mine; and when you take the soul, the body follows, does
it not?" "Pleased am I with your words, fair Savitri. Ask yet another
boon of me, but it must not be the life of your husband." "Let my
father-in-law regain his lost wealth and kingdom, Father, if thou art pleased
to grant another supplication." "Loving daughter," Yama
answered, "this boon I now bestow; but return home, for living mortal
cannot go with King Yama." And then Yama pursued his way. But Savitri,
meek and faithful still followed her departed husband. Yama again turned back.
"Noble Savitri, follow not in hopeless woe." "I cannot choose
but follow where thou takest my beloved one." "Then suppose, Savitri,
that your husband was a sinner and has to go to hell. In that case goes Savitri
with the one she loves?" "Glad am I to follow where he goes be it
life or death, heaven or hell," said the loving wife. "Blessed are
your words, my child, pleased am I with you, ask yet another boon, but the dead
come not to life again." "Since you so permit me, then, let the
imperial line of my father-in-law be not destroyed; let his kingdom descend to
Satyavan's sons." And then the God of Death smiled. "My daughter,
thou shalt have thy desire now: here is the soul of thy husband, he shall live
again. He shall live to be a father and thy children also shall reign in due
course. Return home. Love has conquered Death! Woman never loved like thee, and
thou art the proof that even I, the God of Death, am powerless against the
power of the true love that abideth!"
This is the story of Savitri, and every girl in
India must aspire to be like Savitri, whose love could not be conquered by
death, and who through this tremendous love snatched back from even Yama, the
soul of her husband.
The book is full of hundreds of beautiful episodes
like this. I began by telling you that the Mahabharata is one of the greatest
books in the world and consists of about a hundred thousand verses in eighteen
Parvans, or volumes.
