Death and the Wishes

True heroism is not a thing which only resides on the field of war, in the face of oppression, or in the words of great speakers. It can manifest all around us, every day, in the most startling form, from the most unexpected of people. Here is the story of a woman, who through her devotion and virtue, overcame the last enemy that will be defeated, death.

Savitri
Image taken from a 19th century
watercolour - artist unknown

A long time ago, in the forgotten kingdom of Madra, a land in the north western reaches of India, there lived a young princess. Savitri, as she was called, was a most unusual princess. Whilst the other girls of the court made merry in the palace, dancing and enjoying themselves, Savitri was quite the opposite. A shy, studious and intelligent girl, Savitri preferred to read and hear the stories of the great sagas of the past over song and dance. Indeed, Savitri's father, old King Ashwapati, began to grow concerned for his daughter. For she had now turned eighteen, the age when most princesses had to marry, and none had come to make a proposal. The old King cared dearly for his daughter, remembering all too well how precious a gift she was, for many years ago, the ascetic King had longed for a child. Savitr, god of the sun, was impressed by the King's ascetic lifestyle, and the many offerings he faithfully made. Coming to the King in a dream, he promised him a daughter. Nine months later, the Queen gave birth to Savitri. Lost in his memories for a moment, the King suggested to Savitri that she seek out a suitor. Savitri gently declined. She was not yet ready, she told him. First she must embark on her travels, learning from the holy men who walked the land and praying at the sacred shrines so that she may grow closer to the Righteous Spirit. The old King reminded her that she was eighteen, and that it was expected of her. With a laugh, Savitri reasoned that if she found no one on her travels, he could arrange something on her return. Satisfied, King Ashwapati agreed, and Savitri set out into the wilderness.

Casting aside all the panoply of royalty, and the luxuries of the court, Savitri wandered through the land. Hearing the teachings of the holy men, seeking only the simplest foods for sustenance, and sleeping under the stars, she was a model of temperance, and none could have guessed for a moment when looking upon her that she was a princess at all.

Narada
Image taken from an 18th century painting - artist unknown

For a year the young princess lived the ascetic life, until one day, she found herself walking in a great forest. Just then a heavy thud rent the air. Savitri turned to see the source of the disturbance, and saw before her a man chopping wood. Savitri was intrigued by the man, for though he bore an axe in one hand, and a stack of firewood in the other, there was something in his bearing, an indescribable essence of nobility. The man's clothes were threadbare, and his appearance rugged, yet Savitri could not help wondering whether this man was like herself - perhaps high born once? Consumed by curiosity, and something else, Savitri approached the woodsman, and asked him of his past. Laying aside the heavy axe, and wiping the sweat from his brow, the kindly man introduced himself as Satyavan. He told an enraptured Savitri that he had once been raised in a palace, waited on by a vast array of courtiers. His father was the King of that domain, but as he grew old in body, he had lost his sight. Seizing advantage of this disability, the courtiers had conspired and schemed and deceived. Satyavan confessed his sorrow that he himself was not old enough to protect his father, as he was overthrown and his kingdom seized. Banished and exiled, Satyavan and his father now lived in the forest, and Satyavan was cutting wood to take back to his father in the hut. Savitri was utterly enthralled by Satyavan, and hung on to every word as the unfortunate woodsman finished his tale.

Some time later, with much jubilation, Savitri returned to the palace of her father King Ashwapati. The old King was overjoyed to see her again, and even more astonished when she told him of her choice of husband. Turning to Narada, a wise and holy man whose travels had brought him to court, the King asked him of Satyavan. "Is he a good man?" the King asked. "Yes", replied the sage. "Is he strong in body, and wondrous to behold?" the King asked. "He is magnanimous like Yayati, and beautiful like the Moon", Narada replied. Ashwapati was delighted, but the old prophet had one, devastating, revelation:


     "He hath only one defect, and no other. Within a year from this day, Satyavan,
      endued with a short life will cast off his body..."
                                          - NARADA FORETELLS SATYAVAN'S DOOM

Yama - The God of Death
Image taken from a mid 17th to early 18th
century Tibetan piece - artist unknown

Dismayed, the King reluctantly requested Savitri to choose another, lest she live a life of sorrow and grief. For if there was one being on Heaven or Earth who always kept his promise, it was the god of death. Undeterred, Savitri was adamant "With a life short or long, possessed of virtues or bereft of them, I have, for once, selected my husband". The old sage was humbled by her devotion, and applauded the King for having such a noble daughter. Attempts to dissuade her will be fruitless, Narada told the King, but be thankful for the time they will have. Honoured, but uneasy, the King gave his permission, and the Savitri and Satyavan were wed. Abandoning her precious jewels and majestic silks once again, Savitri went to live with Satyavan, happily wed, in the forest with his father. Savitri never spoke of the the macabre prophecy she had heard to husband, but not a day went by when she did not remember it. After some months, their tranquillity was absolute, and Savitri prayed that Death would not come. But Death never breaks his promise.

Summer came, and the sun rose high in the sky, heralding a year to the day since Savitri had returned to her father. The grass was dappled with golden light, and the sky a brilliant blue. Satyavan had gone out to cut some wood for his father, and Savitri was singing merrily to him. For a while, Savitri began to wonder, perhaps the prophecy would not come true after all? The thought of it welled up inside her. Just then, Satyavan stopped, putting a hand to his head. The axe fell to the floor with a thud, and Satyavan complained of dizziness. He staggered, and, terror flooding through her, Savitri ran to him. Tears streamed from her eyes, as Satyavan fell, and his head came to rest in her lap. Looking up, she saw a cloud pass in front of the face of the sun, and the glade was plunged into shadow. Time seemed to stand still, and the land was thrown into eerie silence. Death never breaks his promise.

Savitri pleads with Death
Image taken from a 19th century
watercolour - artist unknown

Not a sound pierced the silence. No wind in the trees, no birdsong. With a start, Savitri looked back and saw a figure standing over them. Clad in robes the colour of blood, with dark skin stretched tightly over his visible bones, Death stood in deafening silence, his crimson eyes fixed on Satyavan. Savitri, ravaged with grief, saw in one withered hand that he carried a noose. Death never breaks his promise. Desperate for any chance that what had been foretold might never come to pass, Savitri, shaking with fright, asked the horrifying apparition who he was. Death turned slowly to face her, and spoke. Savitri was surprised, for Death spoke with a voice that seemed musical, both distant and close. "Oh Savitri, thou art ever devoted to thy husband, and thou art also endorsed with ascetic merit. It is for this reason that I hold converse with thee". Death continued, and told the weeping Savitri that he was indeed Yama - the god of death. Since Satyavan was a model of virtue and a wonder to behold, Death himself had come to claim him. Leaning slowly forward, his robes billowing in an ethereal wind, Death claimed Satyavan's soul and bound it in the noose. Turning, Death ambled southwards, his latest soul borne effortlessly in his skeletal hand. Just then, a crack rent the silence, as a twig snapped. Death turned, and saw Savitri following him:

  " Desist, O Savitri! Go back, and perform the funeral obsequies of thy lord!
    Thou art freed from all obligations to thy lord.
    Thou hast come as far as it is possible to come"
                        - DEATH WARNS SAVITRI NOT TO FOLLOW 

Savitri refused to leave Satyavan. Death, impressed by her devotion, and that any mortal would choose to follow the god of death, offered her one wish, provided that she not ask for the life of her husband. Savitri tearfully told Death of her father-in-law, how fortune had deprived him of his sight, and asked that Death restore his sight. "It is done", Death declared, warning her to come no further. Death continued his march through the forest, as the shadow grew darker, and the silence heavier. A rustle sounded in the bushes. Death turned and saw Savitri there once again. At once angered and warmed, Death asked if she was not weary from taking this road. "What weariness can I feel in the presence of my husband?" Savitri replied, refusing to leave his side. As much to be rid of her as to reward her admirable loyalty, Death granted her a second wish, provided that she not wish for the life of her husband. Savitri told Death of the betrayal her father-in-law had fallen afoul of, his throne usurped by cruel men. Savitri asked Death if he would restore her father-in-law to his rightful throne, and that his fortunes might be whole again. "It is done", Death commanded, impressed once more at the selflessness of Savitri, "Do thou now desist! Return! Do not take any future trouble". For the third time, Death turned South, and continued on the road to shadow. For an age he marched slowly on, as the forest grew wilder, the shadow darker and the silence louder.

The Redemption of Satyavan
Painting by Mahadev Dhurandar

Death turned once again, and found Savitri still there. Incandescent, Death offered her a third wish, provided she did not wish for the life of her husband. Savitri replied "that lord of Earth, my father, is without sons. That he may have a hundred sons begotten of his loins, so that his line may be perpetuated, is the third wish I would ask of thee". "It is done", Death commanded, and for the third time he bid her leave. But Savatri refused to abandon Satyavan. Since Savitri had wished only for others, Death offered her a fourth wish, but this time, one for her, provided she did not wish for the life of her husband. "Both of me and Satyavan's loins, begotten by both of us, let there be a century of sons possessed of strength and prowess". "It is a good wish, and it shall be done", Death commanded, turning to face her fully for the first time. Savitri steadfastly refused to depart her husband, for "The righteous are never cheerless in the company of the righteous". At last, moved by her unwavering devotion and virtue, Death joyfully spoke "Oh thou that art so devoted to thy lord, ask for some incomparable boon!". This time, Savitri smiled. For Death had promised her and Satyavan a hundred sons, yet how could this come true if was in Death's grasp? "Beyond all other wishes, I ask for this, may Satyavan be restored to life!" Savitri cried. Death smiled, and happily declared that all she had wished for would come true. Unravelling the noose, Death released Satyavan, declaring that Savitri's father-in-law sight restored, his usurper defeated, and his fortunes high once more. Her father would beget a line of a hundred sons, whose might would be known throughout the world. Her and Satyavan would live for four hundred years, and beget a noble line, spoken of far and wide. Bidding them a warm farewell, Death departed, and the cloud lifted, the sun shone and the birds sang once again. Satyavan opened his eyes, and Savitri wept with happiness...

The tale of Savitri and Death is an ancient one. It can be found in it's entirety in a book known as the Mahābhārata. An ancient work of literature from India, the Mahābhārata is one of the two great Sanskrit epics (the other being the Rāmāyana). With a story dating to at least the ninth century BC, the Mahābhārata is one of the cornerstones of human literature, and being ten times longer than both the Homeric epics combined, it is a gargantuan mine of stories, set against one dramatic war story. The story of Savitri can be found in Book Three of the Mahābhārata, but do not let it's length intimidate. It is quite possible to dip in and out of it - there are plenty of short stories throughout it, of which you have just read one. So why not give it a go? For a work so truly titanic in scale, it is easily obtained for a very good price from Amazon:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Mahabharata (Penguin Classics)
(A Titan in the history of human writing, the Mahābhārata is a literary juggernaut with a vast array of stories)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Mahabharata (Penguin Classics)
(A Titan in the history of human writing, the Mahābhārata is a literary juggernaut with a vast array of stories)

The Ear of the Ear and the Eye of the Eye

It is easy in the West to become tied down in the grandeur of the more familiar civilisations of Greece and Rome, when thinking of ancient times. Yet to discount the peoples that lived beyond the then known world is to risk a heavily shackled view of the achievements of mankind. Yet civilisations of towering monuments, great works of art, grand scale conflicts and intricate philosophies existed far beyond the boundaries of Europe, and in many cases, long before it. One such civilisation is India. Homeland of one of the oldest religions in existence, beliefs in many gods arrived long before the tales of Zeus and the Olympians did in Greece, and is still held true today by more than one billion people on Earth. The put this in context, in 2010, there are more followers of Hinduism than there are people in living in Europe. Let us delve within this lore, which is both ancient and modern, and consider a small work which is rightly labelled a classic.

India
Photograph of the Periyar River, in the public domain.

Just as Zeus ruled over the House of gods in Greece, there is at the pinnacle of Hindu belief Brahman, who is far above the more familiar gods such as Shiva and Ganesha. But in many ways, this is a very mundane comparison.  For Brahman cannot truly be described as a god. ‘God’ is too narrow a term. Reading Hindu mythology and literature is a highly recommendable exercise in opening the mind. A god is a manifestation of Brahman in the physical world, a reflection of the greater power. Think of it like this. You walk along the water’s edge of a vast lake, and suddenly you spy ripples striking the bank. You cannot see where the ripples come from, as the lake is too great in size, and their source is unseen to your eyes. In traditional mythology, a god would be a ripple, yet Brahman is the source of that ripple.

There was once a student who asked a wise man “Who sends the mind to wander afar? Who first drives life to start on its journey? Who impels us to utter these words? Who is the Spirit behind the eye and the ear?” The sage, who was a learned man, considered his question and replied:

Brahman as the source of a ripple
Photograph taken by Sven Hoppe.

“It is the ear of the ear, the eye of the eye and the Word of words, the mind of mind, and the life of life. Those who follow wisdom pass beyond and, on leaving this world, become immortal.

There the eye goes not, nor words, nor mind. We know not, we cannot understand, how he can be explained: He is above the known and He is above the unknown.”

      - THE SAGE COMPREHENDS BRAHMAN

Imparting his learned judgement, the old man teaches his student the wisdom of old:

“ What cannot be spoken with words, but that whereby words are spoken:

            Know that alone to be Brahman, the Spirit; and not what people here adore,

   What cannot be thought with the mind, but that whereby the mind can think:

            Know that alone to be Brahman, the Spirit; and not what people here adore,

   What cannot be seen with the eye, but that whereby the eye can see:

            Know that alone to be Brahman, the Spirit; and not what people here adore,

   What cannot be heard with the ear, but that whereby the ear can hear:

            Know that alone to be Brahman, the Spirit; and not what people here adore,

   What cannot be indrawn with breath, but that whereby breath is indrawn:

            Know that alone to be Brahman, the Spirit; and not what people here adore. ”
                      
                               - THE DEFINITION OF BRAHMAN

The student understands how foolhardy he had been to comprehend such a force, one intricately woven in the fabric of all things, so omnipresent yet invisible. In Nature, when a man is in awe at the flash of lightning, Brahman is neither the man nor the lightning, but the wonder in the flash of the lightning. For the man and the lightning are both ripples in the lake. The teacher’s lesson is that the fool is he who states “I know well”, yet no truth does he know. Darkness there is, for he who does not know Him, yet the light of truth shines for he who does. For true knowledge is acquired only in the “ecstasy of an awakening which opens the door of life eternal”. A man who is truly aware of Brahman is truly in a state of paradise, a concept known in the Indian religions as Nirvana.



Mount Semeru, where Creation was said to have occurred
Photograph taken by Jan-Pieter Nap.



There is too a story of the gods who futilely comprehend the nature of Brahman. It is said that once upon a time, through the matter of Brahman, the gods won a great victory, and in their pride they thought “We alone attained this victory, ours alone is the glory”. Brahman was aware of this and appeared before them. The gods shouted “Who is this being that fills us with wonder?” The gods turn to Agni, the god of fire, and ask him to go and see who this being is. Agni approached Brahman, who asked the god “Who are you?” “I am the god of fire, he said, the god who knows all things”. “What power is in you?” asks Brahman. “I can burn all things on Earth” replied Agni. Brahman placed a blade of straw before him, saying “burn this”. The god of fire strove with all his might, yet not so much as a spark could he produce. He returned to the other gods and told them of his failure. The gods turned to Vayu, the god of the air and sent him before Brahman. “Who are you” asked Brahman. “I am Vayu, the god of the air he said, Matarisvan, the air that moves in space”, replied the god. “What power is in you?” enquires Brahman. “In a whirlwind I can carry away all there is on Earth”, Vayu assures him. Once again, Brahman produced a blade of straw, and commanded Vayu to “Blow this away”. The god of the air strove with all his might, yet the blade was as unmoving as the roots of the mountain.  Vayu returned to the gods and relayed his failure. So they turned to Indra, the god of thunder. Indra ran towards Brahman, but this time, he disappeared. In the same corner of the Sky rose a being of radiant beauty. She was called Uma, divine wisdom, and she was the daughter of the mountains of snow. “Who is that being that fills us with wonder?” asked Indra. “He is Brahman, the Spirit Supreme”, she answered, “Rejoice in Him, since through Him you attained the glory of victory”. Among the gods, Agni, Vayu and Indra excelled all others, for they were the first to come near Brahman, and the first to know him as the Spirit Supreme. Thus Indra, the thunderer, excelled all other gods, since he was first among them all to comprehend Brahman and learn he was the Spirit Supreme, and achieve his own Nirvana.

This is just the beginning of a large corpus of the Sanskrit scriptures, known as the Upanishads. Each Upanishad takes as its focus a different lesson, ranging from considering Brahman to spiritual bliss, karma, death, immortality and rebirth. Each Upanishad is short and succinct, yet told with eloquence and wisdom. I wholeheartedly recommend any to pick it up and give them a read. The collection of Upanishads is a light book, not at all overlong and easily accessible from Amazon at an extremely nominal price:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:

The Upanishads (Classics)

(An excellent hybrid of readability and poetic quality)

Oxford World's Classics:

Upanisads (Oxford World's Classics)

(A slightly bigger work, which contains more background information)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Upanishads (Penguin Classics)
(An excellent hybrid of readability and poetic quality)

Oxford World's Classics:
Upanisads (Oxford World's Classics)
(A slightly bigger work, which contains more background information)