fullness and freshness of youth, to some one worthy of the honor. For
some time no royal suitors ventured to solicit her hand for the reasons
stated above. At length, Sabitri sought and obtained her father's
permission to secure for herself a suitable match. In complying with her
request, the father moreover allowed her to take in her travels some of
the wisest ministers of the state, whose experience and counsel would be
available to her in so momentous an affair. Mounted on a golden chariot
and accompanied by a number of gray headed ministers, she left the
capital with the benedictions of the hereditary priests, and journeyed
far and wide through many a strange country, visiting on her way some of
the most delightful hermitages of the venerable old _Rishis_, who were
absorbed in meditation.
Sometime after, while the king was attending to the duties of the State
and conversing with that renowned sage, Narada, Sabitri with the
ministers returned home from her peregrination. The princess, seeing her
father talking with the great Rishi, Narada, bowed her head down in
token of due homage to the venerable Rishi and her respected father. The
bustle consequent on the first interview after a long absence being
over, Narada asked the king: "O monarch, where did your daughter go?
Whence is she now coming? It is high time that you should give her in
marriage to some noble prince worthy of her hand." The king replied, "O
revered Rishi, I sent her abroad with some of my wisest ministers in
quest of some noble prince, who, to a beautiful person should add all
the rarest gifts of wisdom, courage, piety and virtue; now hear from her
own mouth, how far she has succeeded in her sacred mission." So saying,
the king desired Sabitri to tell them whom she had chosen for her
husband. Sabitri, in obedience to her esteemed father's behest, thus
spoke in a tone becoming her age and sex. "Father, a pious king named
Dyumutsen once ruled the kingdom of Sala. A few days after his accession
he lost both his eyes and became totally blind. At that time, his only
child was in his infancy, quite incapable of conducting the affairs of
the kingdom. His treacherous enemies, taking advantage of his blindness
and the infancy of his child, invaded his kingdom and wrested it from
his hands. The dethroned king and his beloved queen with their infant
child betook themselves to a quiet life of contemplation in an adjacent
wood, renouncing all the pleasures of a wicked, ungrateful world. For
some years they passed their days in the sequestered wood amidst the
abodes of many revered sages, who took a special delight in imbuing the
nascent mind of the boy with the germs of moral and religious
instruction, promising a full development in maturer years. He was in
every way my equal, and him have I chosen as my worthy husband. His name
is Satyavana."
Hearing this, the hoary headed Rishi, Narada, thus addressed the
monarch. "O monarch, I am grieved to say that your daughter has been
unfortunate in her choice, in having thoughtlessly selected the virtuous
Satyavana as her husband." The king feelingly enquired: "O great Rishi,
are the noble qualities of valour, prudence, forgiveness, piety,
devotion, generosity, filial love and affection to be found in
Satyavana?" Narada answered, "Satyavana is Surya's (sun's) equal in
matchless glory, is wise as Vrihashpati himself, brave and warlike as
Indra, mild and forgiving as Earth." The king asked: "Is the prince a
sincere worshipper of God, walking in the path of righteousness? Is he
beautiful, amiable and high-minded?" Narada replied, "O king, like
Ratideva, the son of Sankriti, the beautiful Satyavana, is generous;
like Sibi, the son of Usinara, he is a lover of God and Truth; and is as
high-minded as Yayati; all the pious old Rishis and other good men
believe that Satyavana is brave, mild, meek, truthful, faithful to his
friends, magnanimous, pious, and sincere in devotion and earnestness."
The king again asked: "O venerable sage, you have named all the good
qualities that can ennoble humanity; be kind enough to inform me in what
he is wanting." "He has one great disqualification," said Narada, "which
is enough to outweigh all his virtues, his life upon earth is very
short, he is fated to live exactly one year from this day."
Hearing the fearful prophecy of Narada, the king tried his best to
dissuade his daughter from the fatal alliance, but all his efforts
proved unavailing. Sabitri, firm and constant in her plighted faith,
fearlessly replied that, despite the ominous prediction which is
suggestive of the appalling horrors of premature widowhood to the mind
of a Hindoo female, she could not retract her pledge and surrender her
heart to any other being upon earth.
Narada then exclaimed; "O king, I see your daughter is true to her
promise, firm in her faith and constant in her love and attachment to
Satyavana. No one will be able to lead her astray from the path of
righteousness. Let the unrivalled pair, therefore, be united in the
sacred bond of wedlock." The king replied, "O great Rishi, unalterable
are your words; what you have now said is just and right. As you are my
_Gooroo_ (spiritual guide) I will do what you have ordered me to do."
"Heaven's choicest blessings be upon you all," said Narada, and
departed.
The king now directed his attention to the solemnisation of the nuptials
of his beloved daughter with becoming pomp and eclat.
The fair daughter of Aswapati was thus married in due form to Satyavana,
the son of the blind old king, Dyumutsen. For a while the happy pair
continued to enjoy all the blessings of conjugal life in their blissful
and retired cottage, remote from the busy throng of men and quite
congenial to religious meditation, though Sabitri knew full well, as
predestined by Bidhata, that this short and transient happiness would be
soon followed by long and painful suffering which would very nigh
destroy them both.
Thus week after week and month after month rolled away, when at length
the prophetic day on which the terrible doom was to be pronounced upon
Satyavana drew nearer and nearer, and when Sabitri saw that there
remained only four days to complete the terrible year, perhaps the last
year of Satyavana's life, at the end of which the fatal torch of _Yama_
would appear before her beloved husband, her heart recoiled at the
idea. To avert the dreadful doom she undertook the performance of an
austere vow, which strictly enjoined three days of continuous fasting
and prayer, pouring forth at the feet of the Almighty all the fervours
of a devotional heart. Her father-in-law, Dyumutsen, though overwhelmed
by the surging wave of grief, endeavoured to dissuade her from
undertaking so trying a vow, but his admonition was quite ineffectual.
She persistently adhered to her resolution and calmly resigned herself
to the dispensations of a wise, and merciful Providence.
Mental conflict, internal perturbation, and continuous fasting made her
weak and emaciated, and the prophetic words of Narada incessantly
haunted her mind like some fatal vision. It is quite impossible to
describe the violent struggles that passed within her when that terrible
day at last arrived, and when the inevitable decree of fate by which her
dear husband should for ever cease to live would be fulfilled. After
bathing in the sacred stream she made burnt offerings to the gods and
prostrated herself on the ground, as a mark of profound homage to the
honoured feet of the old Rishis, and those of her revered father-in-law
and mother-in-law, who in return heartily pronounced their sincere
benedictions upon her. When the hour for dinner came, she was desired to
partake of some refreshment, especially after three days' continuous
fastings, but animated by a fervent spirit of devotion she declined to
take any food before sunset.
Presently she saw her husband going to the forest with his axe and a
bag, to procure fruits and dry wood. Sabitri begged to accompany him,
but from the prescience of imminent danger as well as from the warmth of
affection he would fain keep her at home, being assured that her tender
feet were not fitted to wander in the "brambly wilderness" in her
present enfeebled state of body; but regardless of all admonition she
thus exclaimed: "O my beloved Lord, I am not at all weary with fasting,
your very presence is my strongest support. I can never be happy without
you, so do not turn a deaf ear to the earnest entreaty of an already
disconsolate wife, whose fate is bound with yours in a gordian knot
which no earthly force can break or cut." Satyavana was at last
constrained to yield to her solicitations, and bade her take his father
and mother's permission before her departure. It was with the greatest
reluctance that their permission was given. Obtaining their benedictions
and being armed with the panoply of divine grace, the unhappy pair
quitted their sweet home for the dreary forest. On the way, Satyavana,
half conscious of what would soon befall him, addressed his loving wife
in the following affectionate words: "O dear Sabitri, behold how nature
smiles in all her beauty, how the fields are adorned with fragrant
flowers, shady groves, and a wide expanse of living verdure, how slowly
and smoothly runs the murmuring brook with soothing melody, how the
warblers of the forest pour forth their wild but sweet notes without
fear of molestation, how merrily the peacock is dancing, how cheerfully
the stag is frisking about, and above all, how the stillness of the
scene invites the mind to contemplation."
While Sabitri was attentively listening to her husband's descriptive
illustration of nature, her heart swelled in her throat, but her eyes
were not sullied with even one tear-drop. She continued to follow her
husband as a faithful, obedient wife.
At length they entered the forest, and Satyavana after having filled his
bag with various kinds of fruits began to cut with his axe the withered
branches of the trees. The effort soon overpowered him and he felt some
uneasy sensation about his head. He slowly walked down to his dear wife
and observed: "O much beloved Sabitri, suddenly I feel an acute headache
which, becoming more and more painful, makes me quite insensible and
almost breaks my heart. I cannot stand here any longer, but I trust by
the aid of balmy sleep, soon to regain my health and strength."
On hearing her husband's heart-rending words, she sat down upon the
ground and placed Satyavana's head upon her lap. But as fate had
ordained he soon became perfectly insensible. When Sabitri saw this, her
wonted presence of mind did not fail her; trusting, however, in the
boundless mercy of an overruling Providence, she calmly and composedly
waited for the ill-fated hour, when the shadow of death would hide for
ever her beloved Satyavana--a doom she was herself prepared to share.
Suddenly, after a short while, she believed she saw a grim figure,
clothed in red and resplendent with lustre like the sun, slowly
approaching her with a chain in his hand. This was not a figment of her
imagination. The veritable _Yama_ stood beside Satyavana and looked
steadfastly upon him.
No sooner did Sabitri see him than she, taking her husband's head from
her lap and placing it upon the ground, with trembling heart thus
addressed him. "God-like person, your heavenly form and majestic
appearance bespeak unmistakably that you are a god among gods. Vouchsafe
to unfold yourself and break your mind to me."
Yama replied; "O Sabitri, thou art chaste and constant in thy devotion
and meditation, I, therefore, feel no delicacy in satisfying your eager
inquiry. I am Yama (Pluto), I am come here for the purpose of carrying
away thy dead husband, as his days upon earth are numbered." To this,
Sabitri said, "O king, I have heard that your imps carry away the dead
bodies from the earth; why are you then come yourself?"
Yama replied, "O amiable Sabitri, while living, your excellent husband
possessed many good qualities and was justly remarkable for his
righteousness. It was improper, therefore, to have sent my imps to carry
him away. With this view I am come myself." So saying Yama forcibly
drew out the finger-shaped soul from Satyavana's body. Being deprived of
the vital spirit, the dead body became motionless, pale and pallid; and
Yama went towards the South. The chaste Sabitri, in order to obtain the
fruit of her vow, followed him with sad looks and a heavy heart. Seeing
this, Yama remonstrated with her and ordered her to return home and
perform the funeral obsequies of her husband. Sabitri said she would go
wherever her husband was carried, and that by her unceasing prayer to
the Almighty, by her firm faith in her spiritual guide, by the solemn
fulfilment of her sacred vow, and by his (Yama's) grace, her course
would be free and unrestrained. "O king of the infernal regions," said
she, "kindly deign to lend a listening ear to a suppliant's prayer. He
that has not obtained a complete mastery over his senses should not come
to the forest to lead there either a domestic life, or a student's life,
or the life of a devotee. Those who have effectually controlled their
passions are fit to fulfil the necessary conditions of the four
different modes of life. Of these four modes, the domestic life is
decidedly the best, being most favourable to the acquisition of
knowledge and wisdom, and to the cultivation of piety and virtue.
Persons like myself do not desire to lead any other than a domestic
life."
"Now return home, O fair Sabitri; I am much pleased with your wise
observations; I am willing to grant you any boon save the life of your
husband," exclaimed Yama. Sabitri replied, "O king, be graciously
pleased to restore eyesight to my blind father-in-law, and make him
powerful as the Sun or the Fire, that he may be enabled to regain his
kingdom and rule it with vigour." Yama granted the boon, and directed
her to return home after the fatiguing journey. Sabitri answering said,
"O virtuous king, I feel no trouble or fatigue while I am with my
husband, for a husband is the strength and stay of his wife, and the
wife is the sharer of her husband's weal or woe:
The wife, where danger or dishonor lurks,
Safest and seemliest by her husband stays,
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
"Wherever, therefore, you carry my husband, my footsteps will dog you
thither. Our very first intercourse with the good and the righteous
leads to the growth of confidence and kindly feeling, which is always
productive of the most beneficial results." Whereupon Yama replied, "O
thoughtful lady, thy words are agreeable to my heart; they are fraught
with meaning and good sense. I shall willingly grant you another boon
save the life of your husband." "Allow me, then, O virtuous king, to ask
for a hundred begotten sons to my father, who has no son," said Sabitri.
"I grant the boon," said Yama, "now that all your wishes have been
consummated, do not continue to follow me any longer. You are far away
from your father-in-law's cottage; return home at once."
Sabitri replied, "O virtuous king, we are apt to repose more confidence
in the righteous than in ourselves; their kindness amply requites our
love and regard." Yama said, "I am very much satisfied with your
edifying speech, and am disposed to grant you another boon." Sabitri
feeling grateful for the several boons granted unto her, presumed this
time to ask for the resurrection of her husband as well as for the birth
from them of a hundred powerful, wise and virtuous sons, to be the glory
of the country and the ornament of society.
"Be it so," said Yama cheerfully and disappeared.
It is obvious that the fertile imagination of the hereditary priests of
Hindoosthan, who, from their traditional mental abstraction, delighted
more in the concoction of legendary lore than of the solid, sober
realities of life, invented the above Brata or vow, mainly for the
consolation of ignorant females, to avert the hardships of widowhood,
than which a more unmitigated evil is not to be found in the domestic
economy of the Hindoos. The unhallowed institution of the immolation of
widows alive, was primarily traceable to the dread of this terrible
calamity, which preyed, as it were, on the vitals of humanity. Hence the
performance of this Brata is the culminating point of meritorious work
in popular estimation, promising to the performer the perpetual
enjoyment of connubial happiness, which is more valued by a Hindoo
female than all the riches of Golconda.
It is annually celebrated in the Bengalee month of Joysto both by widows
and by women whose husbands are alive, by the former, in the hope of
averting the evil in another life, by the latter, in the expectation of
continuing to enjoy conjugal bliss both in this world and the next.
On the celebration of this Brata on the fourteenth night of the decrease
of the moon, the husband, being dressed in clean new clothes, is made to
sit on a carpet, the wife, previously washing and drying his feet, puts
round his neck a garland of flowers and worships him with sandal and
flowers, wrestling hard in prayer for his prolonged life. This being
done, she provides for him a good dinner, consisting of different kinds
of fruits, sweetmeats, sweet and sour milk and ghee-fried _loochees_,
&c. It should be mentioned here that a widowed lady offers the same
homage to the god, Naraian, in the place of a husband.
The usual incantation is read by the priest, and she repeats it
inaudibly, the substance being in harmony with her cherished desire. He
gets his usual fee of two or four rupees and all the offerings in rice,
fruits, sweetmeats, clothes, brass utensils, &c. If not dead, a woman
has to perform this Brata regularly for fourteen long years, at the end
of which the expense is tenfold more, in clothes, beddings, brass
utensils, and an entertainment to Brahmins, friends and neighbours, than
in the ordinary previous years.
Besides the Bratas described above, there are many others of more or
less note, which are annually observed by vast numbers of females, who,
from their early religious tendencies, seem to enjoy a monopoly of them.
It is, however, a singular fact that the primary object of all these
religious vows is the possession of all sorts of worldly happiness,
seldom supplemented by a desire of endless blessedness hereafter. This
is unquestionably a lamentable desideratum in the original conception
and design of the popular Hindoo Shastras, clearly demonstrating its
superficiality and poverty.
APPENDIX.
NOTE A.
OBSERVANCES AND RITES DURING PREGNANCY.
From the period of conception a woman is enjoined by way of precaution,
to live under certain rules and restrictions, the observance of which is
to ensure a safe delivery as well as the safety of the offspring. She is
not allowed to put on clothes over which birds of the air have flown,
lest their return might prolong the period of her delivery. She fastens
a knot to one end of the _Achal_ of her _Saree_[128] and keeps it tied
about her waist, and spits on her breast once a day before washing her
body, and is not allowed to sit or walk in the open compound in order to
avoid evil spirits; as a safeguard against their inroads, she constantly
wears in the knot of her hair a slender reed five inches long.
When in a state of pregnancy, a Hindoo female is treated with peculiar
care, tenderness and affection. She is generally brought from her
father-in-law's house to that of her father, where all the members of
the family shew her the greatest love lest she should not survive the
throes of childbirth. Indeed the first childbirth of a young Hindoo girl
is justly considered a struggle between life and death. As a religious
safeguard and guarantee for safe delivery, she is made to wear round her
neck a small _Madoolee_ (a very small casket made of gold, silver, or
copper), containing some flowers previously consecrated to _Baba
Thacoor_[129] and to drink daily until her delivery a few drops of holy
water after touching it with the _Madoolee_.
It is perhaps generally known that a Hindoo girl is married between 9
and 12 years of age--an age when her European sister would not even
dream of being united in the bonds of wedlock; and the natural
consequence is, she becomes a mother at thirteen or fourteen years. An
eminent writer who had studied the subject carefully thus remarks: "Till
their thirteenth year, they are stout and vigorous; but after that
period, they alter much faster than the women in any of the nations of
Europe." Her tender age, her sedentary life, her ignorance of the laws
of hygiene, the common dread of childbirth, the want of proper midwives
as well as of timely medical aid (should any be necessary), conspire
sometimes to cause an untimely death. She must continue to observe many
precautions until her accouchement is completed.
In the fifth month of her pregnancy takes place her _Kacha Shad_.[130]
The day must be an auspicious one according to Hindoo astrologers, and
she is treated that day with special indulgence, inasmuch as all the
delicacies of the season are given to her without restriction. In the
seventh month she is treated with _Bhaja Shad_, when she eats with a few
other females (whose husbands and children are all alive) all sorts of
parched peas and rice as well as _Methais_ and other sweetmeats; in the
ninth month, the _Paunchamrita_[131] ceremony is held, when she is made
to wear a red-bordered _Akhanda_ Saree (a piece of cloth ten cubits long
with the edges uncut), which is preserved with the greatest care lest
any jealous and mischievous woman who has lost her children, should
clandestinely cut and take away a portion of the same, which is
considered a very portentous omen for the preservation of the new born
babe.
On the celebration of _Paunchamrita_ above mentioned the officiating
priest, after repeating the usual incantation, pours into her mouth a
little of the delicacies, without the same coming in contact with her
teeth. She is forbidden to eat anything else that day except fruits and
sweetmeats; and then a good day is appointed for the celebration of the
grand final _Shad_, when all the female relatives and connections of the
family are invited. In Calcutta, Hindoo females of respectability are
not permitted to be seen, much less to walk in the streets; they live in
a state of perfect seclusion, entirely apart from the male members of
the family, it being considered a very great disgrace should a
respectable female be in any way exposed to public gaze. The very
construction of a Hindoo family dwelling house clearly indicates the
prevalence of the close zenana system; the inmates must have an inner
and an outer apartment, there must be an inclosed court-yard reached by
tortuous passages, closed by low constructed doors, through which one
has to wriggle rather than to walk; the sun seldom shines into it; small
contracted staircases, foul confined air, no circulation or ventilation
are the result: the noxious effluvia evaporating from this or that side
of the house, especially from the lower floor, is a nuisance which the
inmates put up with, with scarcely any complaint. The drainage and
water works have certainly effected considerable improvement towards the
promotion of cleanliness, but still the dirty and filthy state of most
of the family dwelling houses is a notorious fact. By a small door only
there exists a communication between the inner and outer apartment;
should the house be a small one, say from three to four _cottahs_, which
is generally the case in such a crowded city as Calcutta, and should the
women talk loud enough to be heard by men outside, they are not only
instantly checked but severely reprimanded for the liberty. The great
privacy of the close zenana system is, however, broken by females being
obliged to travel in a Railway carriage: though Hindoos of rank,
whenever they have occasion to go on pilgrimage by Rail, generally
engage a reserved compartment for the females, yet they cannot manage to
preserve absolute privacy when going into or coming out of the carriage
at the Railway Stations.