Sati’s Ire

By: Satwika Gejara

Painting of Sati immolating herself

How could you say that, father?

You may not love him as I do,

but your venomous words

burn me more than any flame.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You say that he is dark-skinned

and that insects crawl over his figure.

All I see is the suspended moon,

and the stars spread out in all directions.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You say that he brings death’s odor

wherever he goes; it sickens you.

All I smell is the ripe fruit of moksha

he bestows upon his followers.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You say that he has matted hair

and that war scars cover his hands.

All I feel is his protection from evil

when he gently touches my shoulder.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You say that his simple, serene silence

makes him arrogant and slights you.

All I hear is the auspicious syllable

of Aum repeating relentlessly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

I would rather leap into a fire

than continue hearing such filth.

Until I am reborn with a father

who loves him as I do.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

This poem is inspired by what Sati said to her father Daksha when she attended the Dakshayagna. She praises Shiva, her husband, and condemns her father for insulting him. To learn more about her story and better understand the poem, please refer to this Wikipedia page and scroll down to Death of Sati to read about this specific incident.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daksha_yajna