Savitri Savitri the beautiful princess shed her exuberant silk dropped her pearls and gems, the fragrant flowers that knit her hair. Clad in simple robes of rough cotton she assisted her husband perform sacrificial rites. The glowing daughter of the Sun carried a dark secret, remained anxious of shadows lurking near her conjugal nest. She sat in the evening under the banyan tree as birds settled high in the branches thickening with darkness, her mind clouded with fatigue, parched dry the tongue stuck at the roof of her mouth. Pools of sadness gathered in her eyes that drooped like wilted lotus. Satyavan emerged from the forest sweat on his sinewy arms that labored collecting wood for the sacrificial fire. The smoke of that day's oblation hung like a dark cloud, the hut barren like an ascetic's carried smell of fire that licked as the sun ascended the heavens. He spread himself like a panther on the kusa grass, she brought wild berries she collected near the clearing, the milk she pressed from the almonds that hung like sore nipples at the trees. Since she hadn't eaten for three days the smell of boiled wild rice nauseated her. He turned towards her inviting, the coarse cotton barely concealing his desire; as he ran his lips down her throat, saliva from his mouth froze like snow on the Himalayas and she saw the dark figure of Death penetrate her: lifeless wood inside her.
reading sacred Indian texts - Vedas, Puranas, Itihasa