Savitri and the Lord of Death

Princess Savitri was beautiful and gifted, but when people spoke her name, what they thought of first was her goodness. She had come to her parents as an answer to prayer. For many years King Aswapati and his queen had no children, and it made them very sad. They were growing old. But every day the king lit the sacred fire with his own hands, chanted the ancient prayer called the Savitri, and begged the gods to send them a child. One day, in the middle of his worship, he saw in the flames the shape of a woman. It was the goddess who watches over that prayer. She blessed him and told him that he and his wife would have a daughter with a great destiny, and that the girl should be named after the prayer itself. And so Princess Savitri was born.

She was gentle and full of kindness, but there was nothing weak or silly about her. She kept every promise, stood by anyone who needed her, and was fearless and firm whenever a hard decision had to be made. She was a comfort to her parents and to all their people.

When Savitri was seventeen or eighteen, her father began to think it was time she married. No prince had asked for her hand, and her parents had no idea which prince to approach. Then Savitri made a suggestion of her own. Before anything was arranged, she said, let her go on a long pilgrimage. She would pray at one holy place after another and ask for the blessings and advice of wise and holy men. If, when she came home, no sign had been given to her, there would still be time to think about a husband.

Everyone thought it was a splendid idea. Great preparations were made. Grey-haired old courtiers were chosen to look after the princess, and many servants went with her. She rode in a gilded carriage hung with curtains of scarlet silk, so that she could see out without being seen. A long line of men and elephants followed, carrying tents, furniture and food, and a palanquin for her to ride in through the forests. They set off one night at the new moon, so as to cross the hot, dry plain in the dark.

The princess had never been so far from home. All her life she had walked in the palace gardens or driven through the city in a closed carriage. This was an adventure. It was her first long time away from her mother and father, yet she was happy. The tossing trees, the howling jackals and the midnight sky filled her with joy, even when a tiger roared in the jungle and startled the torch-bearers at the front of the line.

For many months the pilgrimage went on. Sometimes they camped for a whole week near the hut of some holy hermit, and every morning Savitri was carried to his door to bring gifts and ask his blessing. Then she would sit on the ground in front of him, veiled, ready to listen if he spoke and content just to watch him if he did not.

One day, travelling through a forest, she saw through the curtains of her litter a tall, strong young man. Something about him made her hold her breath. He had an axe over one shoulder and a bundle of firewood in his other hand, so he was clearly a woodcutter. Yet he carried himself with courage and gentleness, and the polite way he helped one of her servants and then stood aside to let them pass showed a noble heart. The princess asked who he was and who his parents were. Then she turned for home. She knew that her destiny had come. This was the man she was meant to marry.

When Savitri reached the palace, her father was sitting in his great hall. Beside him sat the holy sage Narada, and the king told her she could speak freely in front of him.

“Has my child decided whom she will marry?” he asked gently.

Savitri blushed deep red. “In a certain forest, Father,” she said shyly, “we met a young man who lives as a woodcutter. His father is a blind king who was driven from his throne in his old age and now lives in the forest in great poverty. This is the young man I have decided to marry. He is gentle and strong and kind, and his name is Satyavan.”

As she spoke, Narada had looked more and more startled. Now he suddenly raised his hand. “Oh no! Not him!”

The king looked at him anxiously. “Why not? My daughter has enough wealth for both of them.”

“Oh, it isn’t that,” said Narada. “But if Savitri marries this young man, she will certainly be left a widow. Satyavan is under a curse. Twelve months from today, he is doomed to die!”

The princess went very pale. But when her father said, “This is sad news, my daughter. You must choose again,” she answered, “No, Father. You only give your heart once. I cannot name anyone else as my husband. Whatever happens, I have chosen Satyavan, and I will face it with him.”

Both the king and Narada felt that she was right. So messengers went to the forest, and Satyavan and his parents gladly agreed to the marriage, asking only that Savitri come and live with them rather than take their son away from them in their old age. The wedding took place, and the young couple walked hand in hand seven times around the sacred fire while the priest chanted the old prayers. Then they went to live in the forest. Savitri put away her silk robes and jewels and set out to be a loving daughter to her husband’s parents.

But she could never forget the terrible fate that hung over her husband, and she kept the secret date that Narada had named always in her mind. In this telling, Yama, the god of death, never breaks his word and is also presented as the god of truth. Savitri knew there was no hope that the curse would be forgotten. And no one else knew about it. If her husband was to be saved, she would have to find a way herself.

The day came closer and closer. When only three days were left, Savitri made a solemn vow. For three nights she would stay awake and pray, and for three days she would eat nothing. She hoped this would make her strong enough in spirit to see and hear things that ordinary people cannot.

Her husband’s blind father and his old mother begged her not to wear herself out like this. But when she simply said, “I have made a vow,” they could say nothing more. On the fourth morning she still would not eat. “There will be time enough at nightfall,” she said. “Now I ask you for the first favour I have ever asked: let me go into the forest with your son today.”

The old couple smiled. “She is a good girl, and she has never asked us for anything,” they said to each other. “We must let her go. Take good care of her, son.” Savitri touched their feet respectfully and went out with her husband.

She had worked out that the blow would fall at noon. As the hour came near, she asked Satyavan to stop in a shady spot and go no further. He gathered grass to make her a seat and filled her lap with wild fruit, and then he went to chop wood. Savitri sat and listened, hardly breathing, to the strokes of his axe. Gradually they grew fainter and weaker. At last Satyavan came stumbling towards her. “Oh, how my head hurts!” he cried. He lay down with his head in her lap and fell into a deep faint.

At that moment Savitri saw a tall, grim figure coming towards them out of the jungle. He was dark as night, and in one hand he carried a rope with a noose at the end. She knew him at once. It was Yama, the god of truth and king of the dead.

He smiled kindly at her. “I have not come for you, child,” he said. He bent down and slipped his noose around the spirit of Satyavan, to lead him away.

Savitri trembled all over as he did it. But when her husband’s spirit stood up to follow Yama, she trembled no longer. She stood up too, her eyes shining and her hands clasped, ready to go with Satyavan even into the land of the dead.

“Farewell, child,” said Yama, looking back over his shoulder. “Do not grieve too much. Death is the one guest who always comes.” And away he went down the forest paths.

But as he went, he could hear footsteps behind him. Pitter-patter. It was his duty to take Satyavan’s spirit, but not Savitri’s. Was she following him? And how had she been able to see him at all, when to most people Death is invisible? Pitter-patter. Yes, there were footsteps behind him. Foolish girl! She would have to go home sooner or later. He would try to comfort her with gifts.

He turned round. “Savitri, ask for anything you like except your husband’s life, and it shall be yours. Then go home.”

Savitri bowed low. “Give my father-in-law back his sight.”

“Easily done,” said the King of Death. “Now, goodbye. This is no place for you.”

But the footsteps still followed him. The forest grew thicker and darker, but wherever Yama went, Savitri seemed able to follow. “You may have another wish, child,” said Yama. “But then you must go!”

Savitri stood her ground. She was beginning to feel that she and Death understood each other, and that he might give way to her in the end. “I ask that my father-in-law’s wealth and kingdom be given back to him,” she said.

“It is yours,” said Yama, turning his back. “But go!”

Still the faithful wife followed her husband, and Yama himself could not shake her off. He granted her wish after wish, and each time she asked for something to bring happiness to the family she had lived with for less than a year. At last Death himself noticed this.

“This time, Savitri,” he commanded, “ask for something for yourself. You may have anything except your husband’s life. But this is my last gift. When it is given, you must leave me.”

“Then grant that I may have many sons,” said Savitri, “and live to see their children happy.”

Yama was delighted. So she was willing to leave him after all! “Of course, of course! A very good wish!” he said. But Savitri stood still in front of him, as if she were waiting. “Well?” he said. “I have granted it. That is all.”

Then Savitri lifted her head and smiled. “My lord,” she said, “a widow does not marry again.”

The great king stared at her. As god of death, how could he give back the dead? But as god of truth, how could he break his own promise to her? For a moment he hesitated. Then he bent down and loosened the noose, and the whole forest rang with his laughter.

“Truly there is no one like you,” he said, “with a heart brave enough to follow her husband to the grave and win back his life from Death himself. This is how the gods love to be defeated by mortals.”

An hour later, under the same tree where he had fainted, Satyavan woke up with his head in Savitri’s lap. “I had a strange dream,” he murmured. “I thought I was dead.”

“My dearest,” said Savitri, “it was no dream. But night is falling. Let us hurry home.”

As they turned to go, the jungle rang with the shouts of a royal guard who had come out to look for them. That very day, Satyavan’s father had heard that his kingdom was his again, and their years of hardship and poverty were over for good.

About this tale

The story of Savitri and Satyavan is told in the great Indian epic, the Mahabharata, and concerns Savitri’s encounter with Yama. This version follows “Savitri, the Indian Alcestis” in Cradle Tales of Hinduism (1907) by Sister Nivedita, the Irish-born teacher Margaret Noble, who lived and taught in Calcutta.

Nivedita opens her telling by comparing Savitri with Alcestis, the Greek queen who gave her own life for her husband and was rescued from the underworld by Herakles. In the Indian story, she points out, the wife wins her husband back herself.

Read the original: Sister Nivedita, Cradle Tales of Hinduism (1907), Internet Archive

Suggested for ages 9–12 with an adult: a religious tale involving a predicted death, grief and a supernatural return to life.

The last gift changes the earlier refusal

Savitri’s requests first restore her father-in-law’s sight and kingdom. When Yama asks her to choose something for herself, the promise of children creates a conflict with his refusal to restore Satyavan. In Nivedita’s telling, Savitri invokes an expectation about widowhood; it belongs to this version’s reasoning, not a rule governing all widows or Hindu families.

Yama’s laughter marks his willingness to recognise the force of her answer. The victory is a religious story of exceptional courage and divine favour, not evidence that sufficient love, fasting or persistence can prevent a real death. Bereavement does not measure anyone’s devotion, and the tale’s prolonged fast is not an activity for children to copy.

Build the chain of promises

Write the boons in order. Beside each, identify who benefits and whether it can be fulfilled while Satyavan remains dead. Explain why the final request changes the situation without simply repeating Savitri’s first wish.

Think about it

• Why did Savitri refuse to choose another husband after Narada’s warning?
• How did Savitri use Yama’s last gift to win back Satyavan?
• Why do you think Yama laughed when he set Satyavan free?

Related stories

• King Shibi and the Dove — another tale retold by Sister Nivedita in Cradle Tales of Hinduism
• The King Who Would See Paradise — another story about a mortal who meets the world beyond death
• Why Brahma Cannot Eat in the Dark — another Indian tale of a bride who saves her husband’s life