सावित्रीगीतम् (Savitrī-gītam — The Geometry of Dharma)]

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Verse 1
From the flames of the sacrificial fire, a golden light arose,
a daughter born of prayer and austere penance.
Princess Savitri, her mind as sharp as the sun's rays,
before whose wisdom men drew back in awe.
She chose the exile of the forest, the impoverished prince,
though the prophet's words echoed like a judgment in the night:
"One year is given, then the rope of death shall tighten."
But true love is chosen only once beneath the heavens.
Verse 2
Three nights of fasting, three nights of unyielding prayer,
as the fateful hour crept through the leaves of the forest.
When the axe fell and Satyavan's gaze grew dark,
she laid his head in her lap within the deep shadows.
Out of the darkness stepped Yama, the king of justice,
garbed in blood-red robes and bearing the merciless noose.
He drew out the soul, the size of a thumb,
and turned his face toward the southern realm of death.
Chorus
But the path of death is not closed to the righteous soul,
where feet walk seven steps, an eternal bond is woven.
It is not death that governs the cosmos,
it is truth and duty that hold the sun in the sky.
O Yama, hear the words of a purified spirit:
Wherever my lord is led, there my path must also lie.
Verse 3
She followed the god, step by step through the boundary of the living,
where no mortal man had ever set foot before.
Yama bade her turn back, but she answered him with the law:
"The wise seek nothing other than eternal duty.
The righteous show mercy, even toward their enemies,
and their goodness upon the earth is never in vain."
Impressed, the god restored sight and the kingdom,
and promised a hundred sons to her father's house.
Verse 4
But the intellect weaves the final net for the god.
"Grant me a hundred sons born of my rightful husband," she pleaded softly.
The god of death said, "Granted," catching himself in his own word,
for a divine promise can never fall to the ground.
To give her sons, life must be returned,
Yama smiled in realization, overcome by truth.
The noose fell away, the soul returned to the forest floor,
where the prince awoke, as if from a mighty sleep.
Outro
Savitri did not walk in meekness, she walked in strength.
Not with a sword, but with the power of word and duty.
Her love was not weakness, but a cosmic shield,
that forced death itself to bow before life.

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℗ 2026 Krayne. All rights reserved. Verse 1 From the flames of the sacrificial fire, a golden light arose, a daughter born of prayer and austere penance. Princess Savitri, her mind as sharp as the sun's rays, before whose wisdom men drew back in awe. She chose the exile of the forest, the impoverished prince, though the prophet's words echoed like a judgment in the night: "One year is given, then the rope of death shall tighten." But true love is chosen only once beneath the heavens. Verse 2 Three nights of fasting, three nights of unyielding prayer, as the fateful hour crept through the leaves of the forest. When the axe fell and Satyavan's gaze grew dark, she laid his head in her lap within the deep shadows. Out of the darkness stepped Yama, the king of justice, garbed in blood-red robes and bearing the merciless noose. He drew out the soul, the size of a thumb, and turned his face toward the southern realm of death. Chorus But the path of death is not closed to the righteous soul, where feet walk seven steps, an eternal bond is woven. It is not death that governs the cosmos, it is truth and duty that hold the sun in the sky. O Yama, hear the words of a purified spirit: Wherever my lord is led, there my path must also lie. Verse 3 She followed the god, step by step through the boundary of the living, where no mortal man had ever set foot before. Yama bade her turn back, but she answered him with the law: "The wise seek nothing other than eternal duty. The righteous show mercy, even toward their enemies, and their goodness upon the earth is never in vain." Impressed, the god restored sight and the kingdom, and promised a hundred sons to her father's house. Verse 4 But the intellect weaves the final net for the god. "Grant me a hundred sons born of my rightful husband," she pleaded softly. The god of death said, "Granted," catching himself in his own word, for a divine promise can never fall to the ground. To give her sons, life must be returned, Yama smiled in realization, overcome by truth. The noose fell away, the soul returned to the forest floor, where the prince awoke, as if from a mighty sleep. Outro Savitri did not walk in meekness, she walked in strength. Not with a sword, but with the power of word and duty. Her love was not weakness, but a cosmic shield, that forced death itself to bow before life. ℗ 2026 Krayne. All rights reserved.

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