Sister Nivedita in her book “Cradle Tales of Hinduism” tells the story of Sati. This is one of the most soul touching narrations I have ever read:
Sati : The Perfect Wife
Long, long ago, in the beginning of time, there was a god called Duksha, who counted himself chief of divinities and men. And it happened once that a great feast was held, and all the gods at the banquet did homage to Duksha, and acknowledged him as Overlord. Save one, Siva. He, the Great God, was present also, and was clad indeed like any beggar, in ashes and pink loin-cloth, with staff and bowl. Yet He would not bow down and touch the feet of Duksha. His motive was pure kindness. We all know that there is nothing more unlucky for an inferior than to see one greater than himself prostrated before him. It is even said in India that if this occurs to you, your head will at once roll off. So out of sheer mercy to the Overlord, Siva could not do homage, and probably afterwards forgot all about the occurrence. But the poor god did not understand His reason, and thenceforth counted Him his enemy, hating Him with all his heart. Now Duksha had had many daughters, but they were by this time all married, except the youngest, who was so good that she was known as Sati. (For the word Sati means being, existence, and nothing really, you know, exists but goodness ! )
In secret Sati's whole soul was given up to the worship of the Great God. She adored the image of Siva day after day, and offered before it water and white rice, praying that her whole life might be passed in loving Him, and Him alone.
In the midst of all this, Duksha declared that it was time for her to be married, and announced a Stvayamvara, or feast of the Bride's Choice. Poor Sati! How could she marry any one else when her whole heart was given to the Great God? But the fatal day arrived. In a vast court, on splendid thrones, sat all the kings and gods who had been invited, in a great circle.
Sati came in, with her wedding garland in her hand. All round she looked. She could tell which were gods, because they were lighted from within, so they neither winked nor cast shadows, and which kings, for they did. Both were there, and she might choose any one of them. He would be happy, and her father would be glad. They glittered with jewels and were gay with gorgeous- coloured robes. Again and again she searched the place with her eyes, but He whom she looked for was not there. It was a terrible moment.
Then in her despair, Sati stood still in the midst of the hall, and threw her flowers up into the air, saying, " If I be indeed Safi, then do thou, Siva, receive my garland ! " And lo ! there He was in the midst of them, wearing it round His neck !
Her father, Duksha, was choking with rage, but what could he do ? The choice of a princess was final. So the wedding ceremonies had to be completed. When that was done, however, he called her to him. "Undutiful child" he cried, " you have yourself chosen this beggar for your husband. Now go and live with Him, a beggar's wife, but never come back to me or look upon my face again"
So Siva took her away to Kailash, and she was happier there than, in all the dreams and prayers of her girlhood, she had ever imagined. One day, however, the sage Narada, clothed in his pink robes and looking big with important news, came to call. He went up to Siva, sitting on a tiger- skin, deep in meditation, and sat down near Him to have a chat. " Hmm" he said, as soon as he thought he had Mahadeva's attention, " your father- in-law, Duksha, is arranging for a tine festival. There's to be a fire-sacrifice with full state-ceremonies, and all his family are invited,"
"That's good ! " said Siva, rather absently.
" But he hasn't asked you ! " said Narada, eyeing him curiously.
" No," said Siva "Isnt that fine?"
" What I " said Narada, beginning to look puzzled ; "don't you mind the insult, the terrible sacrilege, of offering royal worship without calling for the presence of the Great God ? "
" Oh ! " said Siva wearily, " if only people would leave me out of everything, perhaps I could get rid of this burden of making and destroying worlds, and lose myself in one eternal meditation ! "
Evidently it was impossible to get any fun out of a gossip here. Mahadeva was too grateful to His father-in-law for leaving Him in peace.
So Narada turned to tell the news to Sati. All her woman's curiosity was roused at once. A thousand questions had to be answered. She wanted to know about the preparations, and the guests, and exactly how the sacrifice and banquet were to be arranged. Finally saying, " But I must go too" she turned to find her Husband, and Narada, feeling sure that events were afoot, hastened away.
Alone, in Kailash, Sati stood before Siva. " I want to go and see the feast !" she said.
"But," said He, "you are not asked!"
" No daughter could need an invitation to her father's house" pleaded Sati.
" Yes," said Siva, " but you, My beloved, must not go. I fear for you the dreadful insults of those who hate Me."
Then, before the eyes of the Great God, the very face and person of Sati began to change. He had said "must" to her, and now she would show Him who and what she was, who loved and worshipped Him. So she assumed some of her great and terrible forms. She appeared to Him ten-handed, standing on a lion — Durga, the Queen and centre of the Universe. She showed herself as the gentle foster-mother of the worlds. She became the black and awful Goddess of Death. Till Mahadeva Himself trembled in Her presence and worshipped Her, in turn, as His own equal. Then she was the tender and devoted Sati once more, pleading with Him as a mortal wife with her husband, " Even as you declare," she said, " we are about to go through terrible events.
But these things must be, to show mankind what a perfect wife should be. Moreover, how could harsh words hurt Her, who bears all things and beings in Her heart?"
So He yielded, and she, attended by the one old servant, Nandi, riding on their old bull, and wearing the rags of a beggar's wife, set off for the palace of her father, Duksha.
Arriving there at last, and entering the Hall of Sacrifice, she — the young and beautiful Sati of a few short years before, still young and even more beautiful, but arrayed in such strange guise — was greeted by peals of laughter from the assembled guests. They were her sisters, resplendent in silks and jewels, each seated on the throne of her husband, on his left side.
There at the end of the hall, amongst priests and nobles, she saw Duksha about to begin the sacrifice. Sati went up and stood reverently before her father. When he saw her, however, Duksha became furious. "Ho, beggar's wife" he said. " Why come you here ? Did I not curse you, and drive you from my presence?"
"A father's curses are a good child's blessings," replied Sati meekly, stooping to the earth to touch his feet,
"Good children do not choose to marry beggars!" he replied. "Where is that Husband of yours ? Thief, rascal, evil dishonest that He is"
He was going on to say more, but even he could not finish, for Sati, blushing crimson, had risen to her full height, and her beauty and sorrow made her wonderful to look upon. One hand was raised as if to say, " Hush!"
" Words such as these, my father," she was saying "the faithful wife must not even hear. These ears that have listened are yours. You gave them to me, for you gave me life, and all this body. Then take it back. It is once more your own, Not for one moment shall I retain it, at the cost of such dishonour."
And she fell dead at Duksha's feet. Every one rose in horror, and the father himself stood as if turned to stone, aghast at the consequences of his own words. But there was no hope.
The beautiful and faithful soul of Sati had indeed died.
Then Nandi, her old attendant, set out swiftly for Kailash, to report to Siva what had happened. But as he did so, shaking in every limb, he turned round in the doorway and said, " If you, O Duksha, survive these deeds at all, may it be only with a goat's head on your human body!" In such great moments men see truly, even into the future.
Up in Kailash, Siva was hard to waken from His meditation. But when at last He heard and understood what Nandi had to tell, His wrath and grief were without measure. Putting His hand up to His head He pulled out a single hair, and cast it on the ground before Him. Up sprang a giant, armed for war. Him Siva made generalissimo of His hosts. Then He shook His matted locks, and out of them leapt a whole army of dwarfs, giants, and soldiers. These ranged themselves in order behind their leader, he behind Mahadeva, and all turned to march down upon the abode of Duksha.
When they reached it, the forces set to work, cutting off the head of the King and wrecking the palace. But Siva made His way straight to the body of Sati, and taking it reverently on His shoulders would have left the place.
At this moment, however, came a woman, weeping and worshipping His feet. At length the sound of her voice penetrated to the ears of the grief- intoxicated God.
" Speak ! Who worships Me ? " He said.
" It is I, the mother of Sati I "
" Mother, what would you have ?" said He very gently.
"Only that of your mercy ; you will give back the life of my husband, Duksha."
" Let him live” said Mahadeva at once, and His servants obediently restored the life taken.
But Duksha had no head, and his own could not be found. " This will do very well," said the general of the army, pointing to the head of the goat that had been slain for sacrifice; and some one seized it and put it on the body of Duksha. So there he really was, even as Nandi had said, surviving, but with a goat's head on his human body.
But Siva, bearing the body of Sati, strode forth in the grief of a God. To and fro over the earth He went. His eyes shot forth volcanic fires, and His footsteps shook the worlds. Then Vishnu, to save mankind, came behind Siva, and hurled His discus time after time at the corpse of Sati, till, falling piece by piece, with fifty-two blows it was at last destroyed, and Siva, feeling the weight gone, withdrew to Kailash, and plunged once more into His solitary meditation.
But of how Sati was born again as Uma in the house of Himalaya the king, of how she strove once more for the love of the Great God ; and of how Siva, with His whole heart on Sati, refused to be won, and burnt Eros to ashes with a glance, are not these things told, by Kalidas the poet, in his great poem of "The Birth of the WarLord " (Kumarasambhavam) ?
Ref: Sister Nivedita, Cradle Tales of Hinduism.
