At the beginning of the Mahabharata War Arjuna suddenly develops cold feet and throws away his weapon of conquest, the mighty Gandiva bow. This conduct of his would never be acceptable to Krishna and for this Arjuna is harangued in no uncertain manner. Now with the forceful Gita delivered on the battlefield, the hero is set to fight the gory war. But there is something equally significant also, not well known to everyone. The message is firmly delivered, and Arjuna is ready to pick up the weapon. However, Krishna tells Arjuna to first step down from the chariot and offer prayers to Durga, who is the Protectress of the Worlds and the Giver of the Victory. This is great indeed, occultly.


The day of Satyavan’s death comes with a golden dawn. Savitri gets ready early in the morning and worships Durga whose image was carved on a forest stone by Satyavan himself. In fact it is her living presence there that had the power to protect the place fully, the place where death was to occur. In Savitri we have the following description of it: (p. 561)

 

Now it was here in this great golden dawn

By her still sleeping husband lain she gazed

Into her past as one about to die

Looks back upon the sunlit fields of life

Where he too ran and sported with the rest,

Lifting his head above the huge dark stream

Into whose depths he must for ever plunge.

All she had been and done she lived again.

The whole year in a swift and eddying race

Of memories swept through her and fled away

Into the irrecoverable past.

Then silently she rose and, service done,

Bowed down to the great goddess simply carved

By Satyavan upon a forest stone.

What prayer she breathed her soul and Durga knew.

Perhaps she felt in the dim forest huge

The infinite Mother watching over her child,

Perhaps the shrouded Voice spoke some still word.


What prayer Savitri breathed at that crucial moment, when the world’s evolutionary history itself was hanging in the balance, her soul and Durga only knew. But about the power of the Stone Goddess we have in one of Sri Aurobindo’s sonnets the following:

 

In a town of gods, housed in a little shrine,

From sculptured limbs the Godhead looked at me,—

A living Presence deathless and divine,

A Form that harboured all infinity.

 

The great World-Mother and her mighty will

Inhabited the earth’s abysmal sleep,

Voiceless, omnipotent, inscrutable,

Mute in the desert and the sky and deep.

 

Now veiled with mind she dwells and speaks no word,

            Voiceless, inscrutable, omniscient,

Hiding until our soul has seen, has heard

            The secret of her strange embodiment,

 

One in the worshipper and the immobile shape,

A beauty and mystery flesh or stone can drape.


The sonnet was written on 13 September 1939 just at the beginning of the Second World War and is noteworthy in that regard also, when Sri Aurobindo had to enter into it yogically, enter to alter the course of events in favour of the Divine’s work. The poem is a vivid transcription of an experience the swift and insightful poet had on an earlier occasion,—long ago when Sri Aurobindo was still in Baroda. But the renewed context is significant. The “voiceless, inscrutable, omniscient” Goddess has absolutely woken up to attend the task on hand, woken up in response to the invocation from the realized soul, in answer to Savitri’s prayer that morning. Sri Aurobindo wrote later in a letter: “[You] stand before a temple of Kali beside a sacred river and see what?—a sculpture, a gracious piece of architecture, but in a moment mysteriously, unexpectedly there is instead a Presence, a Power, a Face that looks into yours, an inner sight in you has regarded the World-Mother.” (Letters on Yoga, p. 199)


Such is the mighty living Goddess we see at work in the forest where Satyavan is to die on the destined day, on the fateful, the epoch-ushering day which began with the arrival of the golden dawn. Here is the crucial event of the day:

 

The sky was crowded with a throng of gods

And golden Durga with sword in her hand

Guarded the kingly tree since the early dawn

And Satyavan and Savitri moved in the peace

Of that rich forest, destiny’s rendezvous.

Year is the body and Satyavan must die

And three great times he uttered the mantric name.

The noon was filled with the creator’s shadow

And the still river watched the motionless crane,

As if eternity had come to its end.

In the campanile of death tolled the hour

And no more was there Savitri’s Satyavan.

 

Eventually, at the noon hour, in that signal moment, Savitri won Durga’s victory and

 

Happy life rushed in bird and beast and tree

And on diamond haste ran dreaming joys of men

And the rishis in the forest felt a change

As though the past had vanished into fire

Of the yajna kindled to make wide the world.

Satyavan and Savitri tended the flames,

Flames whose tongues would bear expression of the true,

Hold in their leaping zest newborn greatnesses.

Moon-lotuses bloomed for the crimson bright

And Soma and Indra and Agni and Vayu

Came in their auspicious forms to celebrate

The birth of Savitr ̣in this creation.