Dadi moved to the kitchen, Aindri following closely. As Dadi began preparing a mixture of soaked chana dal and jaggery, she continued, “When the destined day arrived – it was Jyeshtha Amavasya, a new moon day just like today – Savitri insisted on accompanying Satyavan to the forest. You know what he was going to do?”
“What?”
“Cut wood. He was a woodcutter, beta. Think about this – why wood? Why not hunting or fishing?”
Aindri thought hard. “Because… because wood comes from trees?”
“Exactly! And what happens to trees in the harsh summer before monsoon?”
“They… they look dead? Their leaves fall?”
“Brilliant! Satyavan cutting wood represents the cosmic cycle – he who cuts vegetation must himself be cut down like vegetation. It’s the law of nature. So that day, in the forest, Satyavan began cutting wood from a mighty banyan tree – a vat vriksha.”
“A banyan tree? Like the one in our garden?”
“Yes, but ancient and massive. Now here’s the mystery, beta – why would death come under a tree that never dies? The banyan is immortal, its aerial roots becoming new trunks forever and ever. Isn’t that strange?”
Aindri’s eyes widened with understanding. “Oh! It’s like… like a hint that death isn’t really the end?”
“My wise granddaughter! Yes! The universe was already showing that this death would not be permanent. But in that moment, Satyavan suddenly clutched his head. ‘Savitri,’ he gasped, ‘my head feels like it’s splitting!’ He collapsed in her lap, his axe falling among the wood he’d cut – the woodcutter himself cut down by fate.”
“He died?”
“His breathing stopped. His body grew cold like a tree in winter. And then, Savitri saw Him – Yama, the Lord of Death himself, terrible and magnificent, carrying his noose to bind Satyavan’s soul. The cosmic pattern was completing itself.”
“What did she do?” Aindri whispered, forgetting all about the missing thread.
Dadi smiled mysteriously, adding fresh tulsi leaves to the puja thali. “What would you do, beta?”
“I… I don’t know. Cry?”
“Most would. But Savitri understood something deeper. She gently laid Satyavan’s body under the immortal banyan tree and did something unprecedented – she followed Yama. Not crying, not pleading, but walking with determination.”
“Followed Death? Wasn’t she scared?”
“Think of it this way, beta – when the sun sets, does it cry? No, it journeys through the darkness, knowing it must return. Savitri became like the sun itself, following Death into his dark realm. Yama was shocked. ‘Go back, woman!’ he commanded. ‘Perform your husband’s last rites. The living cannot follow where I go!’ But Savitri replied, ‘Where my husband goes, I must follow. This is the eternal dharma of a wife.'”
