नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्
देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्
महाभरत
महाभरत
Mahābharata
As retold by
Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi
Story of Savitri: Part Two
And so it was that King Ashwapati on an auspicious day set forth with his daughter to make the nuptial arrangements. He gathered the brahmanas, the wise men and sages of the court and went with his daughter into the sacred forest. And after some time on foot they arrived at the ashrama of Dyumatsena, the old blind king.
Finally they saw a great Banyan tree whose branches stretched to the sky. And beneath the canopy of leafy branches at the foot of that tree sat the blind King in meditation on a mat made of kusha straw. The old man could hear footsteps although he could see no one. And folding his hands in reverence, he said, “Who’s there? What brings you to this part of the forest? You are welcome here in this ashram. Satyavan,” he said, calling for his son, “Bring our guests sitting places and water.”
Savitri could see the blind king’s son, the handsome prince, as he offered sitting places and water to all. He was indeed a fine man.
“My hospitality is humble,” said the old blind king. “But please make yourself at home. How can I serve you?”
And King Ashwapati replied, “Your hospitality is more than sufficient. We come in peace on a noble mission.” And bowing low, he said “Accept my humble obeisances.”
Dyumatsena the blind said, “I can tell from your accent that you are noble. Please tell me the purpose of your visit. Ask anything, and I shall surely grant it if I can.”
As she spoke to Dyumatsena, Ashwapati looked at Satyavan, who attended his father, “This my daughter, Savitri,” he said. “It is my wish that you accept her as wife to your son. The old blind King said, “you are indeed noble, but how can we accept such an offer? Here we have no Royal Palace. We live humbly. These trees are our only shelter. We have been forced from our throne. We sit on mats of straw, not silk cushions. We wear humble garments. How could we make a proper home for such a fine lady? The forest is a place of hardship, of simple living and high thinking. How could she dwell here with us?”
King Ashwapati replied, “My daughter is wiser than she appears. She knows that both happiness and sorrow are temporary; they come and go in the course of our human existence. You were once a great King who lived in luxury and are now living simply with only the trees and the stars for a roof. Wealth and poverty come and go; my daughter has no interest in material things. And as she is noble minded she will make a fine match for your son Satyavan, who is dedicated to seeking the truth and living simply.”
Ashwapati said, “Therefore please accept Satyavati as your daughter-in-law and as the wife of your son Satyavan.”
And Dyumatsena said, “To tell you the truth, I had always thought that your daughter would make a fine match for my son. But I hesitated, thinking of my lowly station, now that I have been deprived of my kingdom. Now that you come to me and friendship I can see that my wish shall be fulfilled. If Satyavan will your daughter, then let them be joined in matrimony. And let us be friends.”
And so it was those priests gathered there in the forest bound the royal houses of Dyumatsena and Ashwapati in matrimony. The union of Satyavati and Satyavan was celebrated with the ritual fire sacrifice, and the appropriate mantras recited. The King Ashwapati gave his daughter fine robes and golden ornaments, and she was wed as befits a princess. All rejoiced.
Satyavan was a humble man, but he was glad to have such a fine wife. Ashwapati returned home in great short, and Satyavati rejoiced that her wish had been granted. She had married her soulmate. She had chosen her own husband. He was humble but virtuous. When her father had departed, she stripped off her fine robes and golden ornaments and dress herself in rough cloth. She endeared herself to everyone in the ashram by her service, her sweet words, and kindness. She took care of her father-in-law the old blind King and listened carefully to his instructions. She spoke with words of honey to her husband, and was pleasing in word and deed. She was even-tempered in public, and loving in private. And so it was, O son of Bharata, that she lived in that ashram in the woods with Satyavan, in great peace, dedicating herself to the simple life.
And yet, as she lived her life in love and holiness, from time to time she remembered the words of the saint among the gods Narada: “Alas, for Satyavan’s days are numbered.” And she would become sorrowful. The moons came and went and the earth circled round the sun and the day of doom approached.
The pleasant days had come and gone and the hour of death came closer for Satyavan. And the words of Narada echoed in Savitri’s mind. “He will live 12 months; no more.”
At last the day arrived. Savitri had kept a careful count of days. She knew that her husband would die on the fourth day of the moon. And knowing this she began to fast and observe the vow of Triratra, which is extremely austere. She would fast for three days and three nights.
When he learned of this, her father-in-law said, “Oh Princess, why are you practicing such extreme hardship? It grieves me to know that you have undertaken such a vow.”
Savitri said, “Please do not worry dear father. I have grown accustomed to such austerity. Perseverance brings success in the observance of vows. I gave my word and I shall keep my vow.”
And her father-in-law said, “Very well my dear. If you have given your word you must keep your vow.”
And so it was that fasting and fasting Savitri wasted away. She was as thin as a stick of wood. Three days came and went. When the third night passed and brought the morning, she rose early. She bathed and lit the sacred fire before the altar. She offered her respects to all. She came and bowed before the wise blind king, her father-in-law. And then she bowed before his wife the queen. With folded hands she offered her obeisances to the gray-haired brahmanas present and asked their blessings that she would not be a widow. And before the holy fire, those saints and sages blessed her that she would not be a widow in her lifetime.
And knowing that she had been fasting for three days her father-in-law n-law invited her to break her fast, saying, “You have kept your vow. Come, my daughter, eat.”
But Savitri said, “ I have completed my vow, but I will eat when the sun goes down. We shall all eat together this evening.”
For his part, Satyavan was on his way to the words, carrying his axe on his shoulder. In the mornings he would go to the forest to cut firewood. But Savitri stopped him saying, “Don’t go into the woods alone today. Let me go with you.”
And Satyavan said, “Why should you go to the woods? These paths are dangerous and too rough for your tender feet. Besides, you were weak from fasting. How will you keep up with me?”
“My fast has refreshed me,” she said. “Don’t leave me alone. I need to be with you today. I have made up my mind.”
“So be it.” He said. “But let’s ask permission.”
They went to the king and queen. And Savitri once again bowed before them and said, “Satyavan is going to the forest to cut firewood and gather fruits and flowers. I know it seems unusual, but today I wish to go with him. Please allow me. It’s been so long since I have taken a walk in the blossoming woods.”
The blind king heard the trembling voice of his daughter-in-law. He knew she must have some deep purpose. And so he spoke, “It has been a year since the wedding. And all this time, my daughter-in-law has served us well. She is not spoken so much as a harsh word. Let her do as she wishes.” He smiled. “Go my child; take good care of Satyavan and help him gather many flowers and fruits in the blossoming woods. Return here with firewood that we may keep the sacrificial fire lit.”
Having received permission, Savitri smiled graciously and took her leave of the King and Queen along with Satyavan who carried his axe on his shoulder. And that lotus-eyed princess went with her husband into the blossoming woods. But while her face was bright, her heart was heavy, for she knew that Satyavan’s time had come.
As they passed through those charming woods the peacocks fled the path before them. They passed the sacred river whose currents carried lotuses. As the mist lifted with the early sun, the jasmine bloom perfumed the morning air. And Satyavan said, “Behold the opulence of the Lord. God is everywhere, in the fragrance of the flowers, the light of the sun, and the crystal waters of the sacred river.”
And Savitri smiled and beamed, but her shining face hid the sorrow of her aching heart, for she knew that every step drew them nearer to Satyavan’s final moment. “Where was death hiding?” she thought. “Behind the next tree, or perhaps in the bowers of jasmine blossoms only minutes ahead?”
She looked at Satyavan and calculated the time according to the sun. He stopped where woodland fruits did grow. Together they plucked the fruits and filled the basket. He found the fallen branches of an old tamarind tree and with his axe he chopped the wood in finer pieces. And as he swung his axe with his powerful arms, his brow began to sweat. He rested the axe against a tree.
Satyavan said, “I’ll stop a bit. Suddenly I feel weak.”
He sat. “My head aches,” he said. “I feel a great weight pressing on my heart. My arms throb. I feel as if my head were pierced with arrows and my limbs were on fire. Let me rest a bit.”
And lying down, he said, “I’ll sleep a while.”
She sat next to her husband on the ground as he slept and placed his head upon her lap. She thought of the words of Narada and calculated the time, to the hour and the minute and the moment.
Satyavan’s time had come.
All at once a strange figure appeared before clad in red. On his head was a crown. He was huge; a giant, fiery as the sun. Yet while he glowed, his complexion was dark. His eyes were red and shined like burning coals. In his hand he carried a rope coiled in a hangman’s noose.
“I am Death.” He said. “My name is Yama.”
