Savitri Confronts Yama - Death Shall Not Have Him

Satyavan fell. One moment he was cutting wood; the next, his axe dropped and he collapsed into Savitri's arms.

She knew this moment was coming. The sages had warned her—one year, exactly one year of marriage, and then death. She had married him anyway.

Now the year was done.

Yama appeared—dark, magnificent, terrifying. His buffalo waited nearby. In his hand, a noose to collect souls.

Yama: "Stand aside, woman. His time has come."

Savitri: "No."

Yama paused. Mortals didn't say no to him. They wept, they begged, they bargained—but they didn't simply refuse.

Yama: "You cannot stop death."

Savitri: "I'm not trying to stop death. I'm coming with you."

Yama: "That is not permitted."

Savitri: "Then make it permitted. I am his wife. Where he goes, I go. That is my dharma."

Yama: "Your dharma is to live. To remarry. To continue."

Savitri: "My dharma is whatever I say it is. You are Dharmaraja, lord of righteousness. Would you have me break my vows?"

Yama was silent. Then he extracted Satyavan's soul—a small, glowing thing—and began walking south.

Savitri followed.

Yama: "Go back,"

Yama said after a hundred steps.

Savitri: "No."

Yama: "I'll grant you a boon. Anything except your husband's life."

Savitri: "Give my father-in-law his eyesight back. He's been blind for years."

Yama: "Done."

Yama kept walking. Savitri kept following.

Another hundred steps.

Yama: "Woman, this is foolish. The path to my realm is not for the living."

Savitri: "Then it will be hard. I've done hard things before."

Yama: "Another boon. Anything but his life."

Savitri: "Give my father-in-law his kingdom back. He lost it to enemies."

Yama: "Done."

Yama walked faster. Savitri matched his pace.

A third time, a fourth. Each time she asked for something—sons for her father who had none, prosperity for Satyavan's family—and each time Yama granted it, hoping she would turn back.

She never did.

Finally, at the very gates of his realm, Yama stopped.

Yama: "One final boon. Anything you wish—except his life."

Savitri: "Grant me sons by my husband Satyavan."

Yama opened his mouth to agree—and stopped. His eyes narrowed.

Yama: "You tricked me."

Savitri: "I asked for what I wanted. If the only way to have sons by my husband is for him to live, that's not a trick. That's logic."

Yama: "I am the god of death. I don't get outwitted by mortal women."

Savitri: "Apparently you do. You could refuse. Break your word. But you won't, because you're also the god of dharma. And dharma means keeping promises."

Yama stared at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, something like respect crossed his terrible face.

Yama: "You followed death itself because you loved him."

Savitri: "I followed death because I am his wife. Love is action, not feeling. I said 'in life and death' at my wedding. I meant it."

Yama: "Most don't."

Savitri: "Most aren't tested. The soul, Lord Yama. You gave your word."

Yama placed Satyavan's soul in her palms. It glowed brighter at her touch.

Yama: "Take him. Take all my boons. And take this too— You have given me something rare today. A reason to respect humanity. I will remember you, Savitri, long after the gods themselves are forgotten."

Savitri: "I don't need to be remembered. I just need my husband."

Yama: "And that, is exactly why you deserve him."

She walked back to the world of the living. Behind her, the god of death watched until she disappeared.

Some mortals, he reflected, were more immortal than gods.