Invocation 08 - Auroville

parents and seeks their permission to accompany Satyavan as he goes out
for his daily work in the forest. They go off together and Satyavan is very
delighted, as Savitri has never before gone out with him into the forest. She
has heard about it often from Satyavan. Satyavan has many friends there:
the trees and birds and deer, the lakes and hills are all friends, he grew up in
that environment, and now for the first time he is taking Savitri with him to
explore it.
Please remember that this is what is called jeshtha amavasya, jeshtha
which is the hottest month of the year, and amavasya the darkest night of
the month; and Satyavan has almost forgotten that he should not be speaking
so much, he shouldn't be exposing himself to the sun. But he is excited, he
has forgotten time and he has gone up to a tree, he says, "I'll just finish one
last bit of work - I just have to finish cutting some dry wood for the kitchen
and the sacrificial fires ..." He is going up and chopping the branches of the
tree, and suddenly his entire body is racked with pain. As you know, Savitri
was the only one who knew that this was the day when Satyavan must die.
Nobody else knew about it. So Savitri is as it were waiting for death to
strike. She knows this is going to be the day, but she does not know exactly
at what time it was going to happen. And then Satyavan comes and lies
down on the ground with his head on Savitri's lap. I'll read a few lines so that
you can get the flavour of this poetry, which was written 35 years before
most of the rest of the epic.
32
But as he worked, his doom upon him came.
The violent and hungry hounds of pain
Travelled through his body biting as they passed
Silently, and all his suffering breath besieged
Strove to rend life's strong heart-cords and be free.
Then helped, as if a beast had left its prey,
A moment in a wave of rich relief
Reborn to strength and happy ease he stood
Rejoicing and resumed his confident toil
But with less seeing strokes. Now the great woodsman
Hewed at him and his labour ceased: lifting
His arm he flung away the poignant axe
Far from him like an instrument of pain.