The Wrath of the Lord of Renunciation
Of Ancient Stories, and Modern Takeaways
Many readers have asked for stories of the great Destroyer, Shiva. What better day to share them than today, an annual day of fasting and reflection, known as the 'Night of Shiva'?1
Once upon a time, a powerful ruler named Daksha arranged a Swayamvara2 for his daughter, Sati.
Sati desired to marry Shiva.
She undertook severe penance and performed great austerities to win him as her husband.
But Daksha did not invite Shiva to the ceremony where Sati was to choose her groom.
Legend has it that when Sati saw Shiva absent from the ceremony, she threw her garland into the air, offering it to him in her heart. Instantly, Shiva appeared—catching the garland as it fell onto his neck.
Thus, Shiva came to wed her.
Against the wishes of her father who grew furious that a famed king like him was to have a poor ascetic like Shiva for a son-in-law.
What did his daughter mean by marrying someone who was half-naked, clad in tiger skin, with a live snake curled around his neck? A man who owned nothing, whose home was the graveyard, and whose companions were ghouls and demons, and whose grand arrival had been on the back of a bull?
Though he reluctantly gave his daughter in marriage to Shiva, Daksha came to dislike Shiva intensely.
Sati was happy, though, to wed the God of her dreams, and went joyfully to her husband’s abode on Mount Kailash in the Himalayas.
Years passed. The couple were in love, and so, happy in themselves.
One day, Sati happened to spot many of the Gods, and demigods, scurrying about the blue skies adorned in their best dresses.
Curious, she stopped one, and asked them whence they were heading.
They informed her as they hurried by that her father had invited nearly all the Gods and Goddesses to his sacrificial ceremony and it was bound to be a great feast.
Sati was ecstatic. Her father was hosting a grand party. She yearned to go home to see all her childhood friends and her parents.
Surely, her father meant to invite her? Her invitation must be on its way.
But then, why should a daughter need an invitation to visit her own home?
She approached Shiva, informed him of her decision, and asked him to accompany her.
On hearing her request, Shiva grew pensive.
He tried to dissuade Sati from attending the ceremony pointing out that the lack of an invitation was unseemly and did not augur well for her visit.
Sati, though appreciative of his attempts, dismissed his concern, saying he was being foolish.
Her father loved her, and her mother would be overjoyed to see her.
She needed no formal invitation.
She insisted on going—Shiva would see for himself how pleased everyone would be to welcome them home. She begged him to accompany her.
Shiva reluctantly acceded to her request to go home. But he declined to accompany her. Instead, he sent his faithful companions to escort Sati.
Sati bid Shiva a fond farewell and, excited at the thought of home, set off on her journey.
When she arrived, the Court was in full assembly. She prostrated herself before her father and sought his blessings.
Her father grunted.
Then, prodding her a little, asked her where her vagabond husband was - and was he not ashamed to send his wife here without an invitation.
Sati shocked, remained rooted to her spot. ‘Father!’ she exclaimed in disbelief.
But her father continued, his voice laced with scorn. His courtiers joined in, mocking Shiva’s lack of status and wealth.
How could he keep her in royalty, as she was accustomed, when he owned nothing? With a body smeared in ashes, what did Shiva know of the joys of living?
So it went. Insult after insult.
Sati could bear it no more. She regretted not listening to Shiva who had warned her of this reception. But it was too late.
Unable to face her husband after disregarding his warnings, and unwilling to endure her father’s relentless humiliation of the man she loved, Sati’s sorrow turned to anger.
She rebuked her father for his unwarranted insults, proclaiming that no wife could bear to hear her husband so dishonored. She praised Shiva’s kindness, his love, and warned her father of the immense, hidden power he had dared to mock.
Then, summoning her spiritual energy, Sati invoked an instant fire—and, before the entire Court, she immolated herself.3
Shocked, her father fell back in his seat.
Meanwhile, Sati’s companions ran back to Shiva, and narrated the events.
When Shiva heard of his wife’s death, he let out a roar of such sorrow that it shook the heavens. From his anguish, two imposing beings—demons born of his wrath—came into existence, commanded to lay waste to Daksha’s kingdom.
Then, Shiva himself arrived, transformed into a formidable warrior, and unleashed destruction upon all who had caused the death of his beloved.
He lifted Sati’s charred body, slung it over his shoulders, and began his terrible dance of destruction.4
Day and night, he danced—his movements shaking the cosmos, terrifying all living beings, and sending the Gods scurrying for refuge.
He roamed the worlds carrying her body.
No one dared approach him. No one could calm him.
Mountains crumbled, rivers swelled, the very sky darkened under Shiva’s wrath.
The Gods, unable to withstand the chaos, trembled in despair.
When all attempts to calm him failed and the balance of the Universe was threatened, the Gods turned to the Preserver-God for help.
The Preserver-God arrived and, using his divine weapon—the discus5 —severed Sati’s body into pieces.
With that, Shiva’s immense rage shattered, and his dance of destruction came to an end.
As the spell was broken along with Sati’s body, Shiva’s fury dissolved, and he was restored to his calm Self.
Bereft, he returned to his abode in the Himalayas and began to meditate.
So he sat, immersed in his own Self.
For eons.
The Gods tried to rouse him, to lure him with celestial beauties, to break his meditation.
But stir, Shiva did not.
Nor did he open his eyes or waver from his contemplation of the infinite - His own Self.
If Shiva would not awaken, who would protect the world?
How would the world continue?
Yet, before we can answer this question, we need to visit the roots of this tragic tale which lie in an earlier event—one where doubt clouded Sati’s mind.
The Preserver-God was born as Rama on Earth to rid it of the evil king, Ravana.
Rama’s wife, Sita, was kidnapped by Ravana.
Rama, inconsolable at the loss of his beloved, wandered through the vast forests of the South in search of her.
Sati expressed a desire to see Rama, and so Shiva, brought her along to observe him from a distance.
Seeing a human lament for his beloved, attached like all humans, Sati grew doubtful—could this truly be the Preserver-God?
Shiva tried to dissuade her from this notion, but she would not budge.
She said - ‘I wish to test this human, for I cannot believe he is the same powerful Preserver-God.’
Shiva again cautioned her to give up this thought.
But she just laughed and said it would be a harmless test.
She instantly assumed Sita’s form and, as Shiva watched in silence, approached Rama.
As soon as she neared, Rama bowed, addressed her as ‘Mother Sati,’ asking why she had taken on Sita’s form.
Shocked and embarrassed, Sati immediately restored her true form.
Shiva reached them then, and bowed to Rama.
Rama smiled, and asked the purpose of their visit.
Shiva explained and then the two - Shiva and Sati - blessed Rama in his quest, and returned to their home.
But Sati was unaware of one fact.
Shiva had renounced her in his mind.
The minute she became Sita, he could no longer accept her as his wife.
To do so was sacrilege, for she had assumed Sita’s form. In thought and body.
So it came to be that what Shiva renounced in his mind became true in reality.
Liked this story? Stay tuned for Part 2.
It is known as the festival of ‘Shivratri’ = Shiv [Shiva] + Ratri [Night].
Sanskrit: ‘Swayam’ = Self [Choosing of] ‘Var’ = Groom
This is why the later, terrible practice of widows being forced onto pyres came to be known as ‘Sati.’ The ritual, which emerged centuries later, was a tragic misinterpretation of Sati’s self-immolation.
This cosmic dance, the ‘Shiv Tandav,’ is said to mark the beginning of the world's end.
The discus (Chakra) is the preferred weapon of Krishna as well (as the incarnation of the Preserver-God). It is a spinning, sharp-edged ring that obeys his command, striking its target, and returning to him.
Jayshree a lovely rich Hindu mythology that offers invaluable lessons that applies today about the human condition, the nature of love, and the consequences of our actions. Wonderful!
I look forward to Part 2!