Hearken, O Mādhava, what more can I say?
Nought can I find to compare with love:

Though the sun of the East should rise in the West,
Yet would not love be far from the worthy,

Or if I should write the stars of heaven on earth,
Or if I could pour from my hands the water of all the sea.

-- Vidyapati

I feel my body vanishing into the dust whereon my beloved walks.

I feel one with the water of the lake where he bathes.

Oh friend, my love crosses death's boundary when I meet him.

My heart melts in the light and merges in the mirror whereby he views his
face.

I move with the air to kiss him when he waves his fan, and wherever he
wanders I enclose him like the sky.

Govindadas says, “You are the gold-setting, fair maiden, he is the
emerald”

Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows – then let your heart say in silence, “God rests in reason.”
And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, – then let your heart say in awe, “God moves in passion.”
And since you are a breath in God’s sphere, and a leaf in God’s forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion
.

-- Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Open your eyes ...

Open your eyes ...

Mirror-pond of stars …

Suddenly a summer

shower

Dimples the water.

-- Sesshi

He who has been instructed thus far in the things of love, and who has learned to see the beautiful in due order and succession, when he comes toward the end will suddenly perceive a nature of wondrous beauty(and this, Socrates, is the final cause of all our former toils)—a nature which in the first place is everlasting, not growing and decaying, or waxing and waning; secondly, not fair in one point of view and foul in another, or at one time or in one relation or at one place fair, at another time or in another relation or at another place foul, as if fair to some and foul to others, or in the likeness of a face or hands or any other part of the bodily frame, or in any form of speech or knowledge, or existing in any other being, as for example, in an animal, or in heaven, or in earth, or in any other place; but beauty absolute, separate, simple, and everlasting, which without diminution and without increase, or any change, is imparted to the ever-growing and perishing beauties of all other things. He who from these ascending under the influence of true love, begins to perceive that beauty, is not far from the end. And the true order of going, or being led by another, to the things of love, is to begin from the beauties of earth and mount upwards for the sake of that other beauty, using these as steps only, and from one going on to two, and from two to all fair forms, and from fair forms to fair practices, and from fair practices to fair notions, until from fair notions he arrives at the notion of absolute beauty, and at last knows what the essence of beauty is.

“This, my dear Socrates”, said the stranger of Mantineia, “is that life above all others which man should live, in the contemplation of beauty absolute.... But what if man had eyes to see the true beauty—the divine beauty, I mean, pure and clear and unalloyed, not clogged with the pollutions of mortality and all the colours and vanities of human life—thither looking, and holding converse with the true beauty simple and divine? Remember how in that communion only, beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold not of an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and nourishing true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, if mortal man may.Would that be an ignoble life?”

-- Plato, Symposium

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Mādrī never committed “Satī”

 

The birth of the Pāṇḍavas & the death of Pāṇḍu are events surrounded with such heavy symbolism, that except one intellectual, nobody has ever decoded them successfully.

Almost every significant birth in Indian legend is symbolic, or allegorical, and has to be understood philosophically.

Indian symbolism can be pretty sleazy & distasteful – when taken literally – but the fact is, it is symbolism.

Another very dangerous method adopted, to undermine all symbolism, of all ancient cultures, is the otherwise rather convincing argument that the symbolism is loosely based on some true facts.

This is the most subversive & sinister of all methods of undermining ancient cultures, because it – sort of – “makes {some} sense”, and gives pseudo-rationalists ample latitude to subvert every legend, interpret it in terms of the lowest common denominator, and then repeat this lowest common denominator so vociferously & persistently, that people take it as some sort of established, demonstrated, verifiable fact.

Actually there isn’t the smallest jot or tittle of reason, to think that the intense symbolism of ancient cultures was meant as a sort of “cover up” – that they are somewhat historical – that one can always catch a “glimpse” of an eroded historical fact beneath the veneer of myth. 

Thus, Sītā is made out to be an “abandoned girl child” in the land of female foeticide – i.e. India – a victim of “misogynistic” patriarchy.

There is absolutely no reason to think like that, let alone propagate the theory – which is, at the end, just a theory – with such vehemence.

What is meant to exalt Sītā – {the word literally means “furrow”} – that symbolism, which has been so excellently & appropriately chosen, to make her the daughter of the Mother Earth – has now been used against the intelligence & imagination of the author – against the respectability & veracity of all Indian tradition – against the good sense & common sense of all Indians who have loved the Rāmāyaa for 2,500 years – and against literary & poetic imagination itself.

Had she been the daughter of the Earth indeed, and not an ordinary human being born in the ordinary human way, what would have the author done?

Exactly what was done.

Similarly, in the MahābhārataDraupadī & her brother Dṛṣṭadyumna are born out of the fire of a yajña: theirs’s too is a “miraculous” birth, so to speak.

Or, to put it correctly: a philosophical allegory.

There are several such instances: not even Rāma & his brothers’ birth is a normal, human, biological birth.    

The very fact that Sītā is called Ayoni-jā‘not womb-born’, shows that she isn’t a real human person, whose real life-story has been “covered up” by conniving priests too push some {perfectly imaginary} “patriarchal” agenda of “Aryan” domination {Rāvaa happens to be the greatgrandson of Brahmā, and the step-brother of Kubera, who is worshipped very much, amongst the Hindus – their grandfather, Pulastya, was always one of the Prajāpatis – one of the sons of Brahmā – in the Purāṇas}.

It is more likely, from the modern viewpoint, that she was a Queen who was exalted to the status of a divine incarnation, with a mysterious & supernatural birth, that she was a human Princess Princess – but a Princess nevertheless –who was elevated to the status of the Mother Earth’s daughter – not that she was an “abandoned girl child”.


Eschewing all this modernist gibberish, the very fact that Sītā is called Ayoni-jā‘not womb-born’, should compel thinking people to realize, and try to comprehend, that the story isn’t to be taken literally – let alone as some cunning, manipulative distortion of historical facts – and that this all is meant philosophically.

According to Monier-Williams,

·        in Rig Veda iv, 57, 6, Sītā is invoked as presiding over agriculture or the fruits of the earth;

·        in the Vājasaneyi Sahitā {i.e. Yajur Veda} xii, 69-72 , Sītā ‘the Furrow’ is again personified and addressed, four furrows being required to be drawn at the ceremony when the above stanzas are recited;

·        in the Tāṇḍya Brāhmaa she is called sāvitrī, and

·        in Pāraskara Ghya-Sūtra, she’s called indra-patnī‘the wife of Indra’.

All these are open, very clear indications, that the story is a philosophical allegory, and that it takes years of study & patience, to comprehend the deeper meaning of the image of Sītā, or the story of the Rāmāyaa.

 

The same applies to every myth & legend, though it cannot be denied that materials were taken from the life of India then, to construct the myths & symbols themselves.

That is, symbolism is always taken from daily-life itself – the concretes are drawn from the world we live in.

So if chariots & carts are mentioned, it is obvious that Indians did use chariots & carts – but the chariot & the cart in a tale has symbolic function, not historical function. 

In my opinion, the practice of self-immolation {or simply, immolation} of the wife, in our scriptures, has, primarily, symbolic significance.
I will repeat that in the original myth – and this has been noticed by other Indians too – Satī burns herself though her husband wasn’t dead.

Her self-immolation has nothing to do with the death of her husband.

In some texts, she burns herself in the fire of Yoga – something which Indians haven’t noticed.

This changes everything.

Similarly, in Tulsidās’s RamacharitamānasRāma actually asks Sītā to “abide in fire”, until the work of destruction of niśācaras  is completed – Sītā does so – she conceals her true self in fire, and an illusory form of hers is brought forth, which goes through all the travails of being abducted & kept captive.

The later event of the so-called “agni-parīkṣā is actually a staged drama {so to speak}, in which the illusory form of Sītā disappears into the fire, and the true Sītā comes forth to rejoin her husband

All this is so obviously philosophical – it is so obvious that this fire cannot be a real fire, and the abiding of Sītā in it be a natural, everyday event – that it amazes me nobody has noticed, and Liberals & Feminists go on & on about  “misogyny”.


Well, the word “satī itself means a very virtuous, chaste & loyal wife – and it’s possible the practice was the ultimate test & demonstration of a woman’s love & loyalty to her husband.

I doubt if it was religiously & scripturally imposed because, for what it’s worth, in our epics, many wives continue to live after the death of their husbands.

As far as I know, neither the  Kāmasūtra nor the Arthaśāstra mention this practice.

If it was religiously sanctioned enforced by the Rig Veda – a highly doubtful notion – why are all the wives of Daśaratha, or Vicitravīrya, alive, after the deaths of these men?

But keeping certain historical information in mind, it is possible that the practice existed.
Information on all sorts of social & ritualistic practices across the world, throughout history, lend some substance to the view that the practice might have existed, and it was of undoubtedly Pre-Vedic, Pre-Brahmanical, very primitive origin.
One has to keep in mind the whole background of human history, rites & rituals, social & tribal practices, to grasp the full context of something like  “Suttee.

The principal subject of this mail is the so-called “satī – or self-immolation {on the husband’s funeral pyre} – of Mādrī – the mother of Nakula & Sahadeva – and the second wife of Pāṇḍ– father of the Pāṇḍavas

As of now, I shall not try to pry into the symbolic meaning of this event, if it was ever intended in the original text, and will attempt to deal with the issue as a possible historical or social fact.

The death of Pāṇḍu and Mādrī is actually full of poignance & tragedy.

Pāṇḍu is cursed by a Ṛṣi who had taken the form of a deer & was copulating with his wife {in the form of a doe}: that he would die the moment he would try copulating with any of his wives.

Apart from the dense symbolism of the tale, it seems to be a strong criticism of hunting – even Daśaratha is cursed when he accidentally killed Shravaa on a hunting trip – because, I think, one of the more disgusting forms of hunting is to kill animals while they’re mating – they’re too distracted, too absorbed, too oblivious to the danger approaching them – it is easier to kill them while they’re mating.


Well, after the birth of the Pāṇḍavas, when they’re still kids – Pāṇḍu is roaming a beautiful forest with Mādrī – the whole of Nature is luscious & resonant with the cries of birds & humming of bees – and he feels an upsurge of sexual desire.

We are told that Mādrī is wearing diaphanous robes (tanu-vāsas (“semi-transparent attire”, in Ganguli’s words)), and the whole mood is set for love-making.

Pāṇḍu, seized by lust, grabs Mādrī, who tries to get away from him – but he’s so overpowered by desire, that he tries copulating with her.

The text is clear: Pāṇḍu dies while mating – that is, in the midst of intercourse.

Apparently, neither one of them has actually reached climax, or had an orgasm.

What follows is known: Mādrī starts wailing – Kuntī comes there – she discovers what has happened – she chides Mādrī for allowing their husband to give in to lust – Mādrī says she tried to stop him – and then starts the interesting part: Kuntī says she must follow her husband in death.

 

I am the older of his wedded wives (jyeṣṭha dharma-patni); the chief religious merit (jyeṣṭha dharma-phala) must be mine.

Therefore, O Mādrī, prevent me not from achieving that which must be achieved.

I must follow our lord to the region of the dead.

Rise up, O Mādrī, & yield me his body.

Rear thou these children.’    

The Hindi translation adds a curious passage, which is not there in Ganguli’s translation, which says: “I want to earn the title of Vīra-patni, having burnt myself on my husband’s funeral pyre”.

I think Ganguli is correct in not including this line – not only because of what is to follow – but the line is not numbered in the Hindi text.

This seems to be an interpolation.

The original simply says that Kuntī wants to follow her husband in death – it says nothing about being burnt on his funeral pyre, and being glorified with the title of Vīra-patni.

 

Next, Mādrī says:

‘I do clasp our lord yet, and have not allowed him to depart; therefore, I shall follow him.

My appetite hath not been appeased.

{In other words, Pāṇḍu died before either one of them climaxed.}

Thou art my older sister, O let me have thy sanction.

This foremost one of the Bharata princes had approached me, desiring to have intercourse.

His appetite unsatiated, shall I not follow him in the region of Yama to gratify him?

{People may make fun of this – Mādrī wants to consummate her intercourse with Pāṇḍu in the after-life! – but it’s actually very sad.}

O revered one, if I survive thee, it is certain I shall not be able to rear thy children as if they were mine.

Will not sin touch me on that account?

{This highlights not only the moral standards of those times – not only of Kuntī – but also of Mādrī.}

But, thou, O Kuntī, shall be able to bring my sons up as if they were thine.

The king, in seeking me wishfully, hath gone to the region of spirits; therefore, my body should be burnt with his.

O revered sister, withhold not thy sanction to this which is agreeable to me.

Thou wilt certainly bring up the children carefully.

That indeed, would be very agreeable to me.

I have no other direction to give!’

 

This part is correct – Mādrī does say that she wants to be burnt along with Pāṇḍu.

But is this an interpolation?

Let’s see.

We are then told

“Having said this, the daughter of the king of Madras, the wedded wife of Pāṇḍu, ascended the funeral pyre of her lord, that bull among men.”

The Hindi translator says, very specifically:










Great.

I hope that was visible, because, for some reason, the image changes color when I copy-paste it on the page.

Well, iMādrī went & “sat” on the funeral pyre, alongside the deadbody of her husband, we should take it that they were burnt in the fire.


AS IT TURNS OUT, NEITHER PĀU NOR MĀDRĪ WERE BURNT IN ANY FIRE.


Why?

Let us see.

We’re told next:

‘The godlike Ṛṣis, wise in counsels, beholding the death of Pāṇḍu, consulted with one another, & said,

‘The virtuous & renowned king Pāṇḍu, abandoning both sovereignty, & kingdom came hither for practising ascetic austerities & resigned himself to the ascetics dwelling on this mountain.

He hath hence ascended to heaven, leaving his wife & infant sons as a trust in our hands.

Our duty now is to repair to his kingdom with these his offspring, and his wife.’

{Shlokas 2-4 of Chapter 125, Ādi Parva}

 

Fine.

And then {Shlokas 5-6, Ch. 125}:

Then those godlike Ṛṣis of magnanimous hearts, & crowned with ascetic success, summoning one another, resolved to go to Hastināpura with Pāṇḍu’s children ahead, desiring to place them in the hands of Bhīshma & Dhtarāshra.

The ascetics set out that very moment, taking with them those children & Kuntī & the two dead bodies.”

 

What is this?

Where did two dead bodies come from?

Wasn’t Pāṇḍu burnt in a funeral?

Didn’t Mādrī burn herself on the same pyre?

So what are these deadbodies?!

As it turns out, these are the deadbodies of Pāṇḍ& Mādrī – who were never burnt.

 

Indeed, in the previous line {Shloka 4}, it is Ganguli who makes an omission.

He writes

“Our duty now is to repair to his kingdom with these his offspring, and his wife.”

The original actually says:

“...with these bodies, his offspring, & his wife”.

The Hindi translation, making mincemeat of the original, initiates a long-drawn process of miscomprehension, by translating deha as the remains, or the asthis, i.e. shards of bones, of their bodies.

How this can never be, we shall see below.

We all know that asthis are the shards of the skeleton, or pieces of bones, that are left after the body is burnt on a funeral pyre: they are collected in small urns, and later submerged in a sacred river, most preferably the Gagā.

It is absolutely ridiculous to think that what follows has any reference whatsoever to small little pieces of bones of cremated dead bodies.

 

I shall continue with the text:

“And though unused to toil all her life, the affectionate Kuntī now regarded as very short the really long journey she had to perform.

Having arrived at Kurujāṅgala within a short time, the illustrious Kuntī presented herself at the principal gate  (vardhamāna-pura-dvāra).

The ascetics then charged the porters to inform the king of their arrival.

The men carried the message in a trice to the court.

And the citizens of Hastināpura, hearing of the arrival of thousands of Chāraas & Munis, were filled with wonder.”

 

We are told that all the inhabitants of Hastināpura, all the great men & women of the epic, the elders & members of the royal family – came out, and paid their respects to the Ṛṣis & Munis. 
The oldest of the ascetics stands up & addresses the people collected there, eulogizing Pāṇḍu, and his sons.
And then he says:

“Steadily adhering to the path of the virtuous & the wise, and leaving behind him these children, Pāṇḍu departed hence 17 days ago.

{In the original text: “departed to pit-loka , which for some mysterious reason Ganguli omits.}

His wife Mādrī, beholding him placed in the funeral pyre and about to be consumed, herself ascended the same pyre, and sacrificing her life thus, hath gone with her lord to the region reserved for chaste wives.

Accomplish now whatever rites should be performed for their benefit.

These are (the unburnt portions of) their bodies.

Here also are their children – these oppressors of foes – with their mother.

Let these be now received with due honours.

After the completion of the first rites in honor of the dead, let the virtuous Pāṇḍu, who had all along been the supporter of the dignity of the Kurus, have the first annual Srāddha (sapindakarana) performed with a view to installing him formally among the Pitris.”    

This is an intensely problematic passage from several points of view.

Ganguli’s translation is not exactly accurate.    

We have been told that the ṚṣiMunis have brought two bodies – i.e. those of Pāṇḍ& Mādrī – with them.

Then we are told that Mādrī burnt herself on the funeral pyre of Pāṇḍu. 

Then we’re told – in the original – that “these are the two bodies (śarīra).

{ime tayo śarīre dve sutāśceme tayor varāḥ}


Ganguli adds the unburnt portions of” in parenthesis, and the Hindi translator interprets śarīra as asthis of the bodies!! – both totally untenable & absurd interpretations, forced on the narrative to make sense of the fundamental corruption of the text: that Mādrī burnt herself.


The wording within the sage’s speech itself is wrong, because Mādrī decided to burn herself almost immediately after Pāṇḍdied,  obviously much before his body was {allegedly} burnt: the speech makes it looks like she jumped into the fire only when his body was “about to be consumed” by the fire – which is evidently wrong, going by the text itself, a few passages earlier.

The Hindi author translates the passage

ta citāgatam āāya vaiśvānara mukhe hutam

praviṣṭā pāvaka mādrī hitvā jīvitamātmana

more accurately:

“When he {i.e. Pāṇḍuwas laid on the funeral pile, and he was offered (as an oblation) into the mouth of fire (vaiśvānara), at that time, Mādrī, abandoning her craving for life, entered the fire”.

Not that it changes anything much.

But it just the same militates against what had happened in the very first place.

Also, the original says that the faithful (anuvrata) Mādrī went to “pati-loka” – not sure if that translates into the region reserved for chaste wives”.

 

The truth is this: Mādrī never committed “Satī” – she commits suicide.

In the intense grief of losing her husband – somewhere, perchance, holding herself responsible – she commits suicide – but neither has Pāṇḍu’s body been burnt, nor has hers.

Originally, she does die, but her body is intact, and so is Pāṇḍu’s.

The ṚṣiMunis have taken the two bodies to Hastināpura, along with Kuntī & the Pāṇḍavas – so that the funeral rites are completed there.

Evidently, the Indians then knew some method of preserving deadbodies {which is not very surprising} and the two bodies were brought intact to Hastināpura.

The “Suttee” event has been interpolated on the text, and then a total mess has been created.

To imagine that the unburnt portions of” the partially burnt — & surely, by now, heavily decomposed – bodies of Pāṇḍ& Mādrī have been carried around for 17 days, is totally absurd – and will be disproven further on.

{It is equally ridiculous to think that “unburnt portions” of their bodies were preserved for 17 days.}

Same applies to the Hindi  translators’ imaginary asthis – or remains of bones after the funeral.    

In the very next chapter, we are told:

 

Dhtarāshra then said,

‘O Vidura, celebrate the funeral ceremonies of that lion among kings viz., Pāṇḍu, and of Mādrī also, in right royal style.

For the good of their souls, distribute cattle, cloths, gems and diverse kinds of wealth, every one receiving as much as he asketh for.

Make arrangements also for Kuntī’s performing the last rites of Mādrī in such a style as pleaseth her.

And let Mādrī’s body be so carefully wrapped up that neither the Sun nor Vāyu (god of wind) may behold it.

Lament not for the sinless (anagha) Pāṇḍu.”

 

This clearly shows that Mādrī did not burn –wholly or partially – in any funeral pyre.

Everything makes perfect sense when we realize that the bodies are NOT burnt, or half-burnt, nor are the remains of the bones being talked about – but the preserved, intact deadbodies.

Let’s see what’s given ahead.

 

“Then Vidura, O Bharata, saying, ‘So be it,’ in consultation with Bhīshma, fixed upon a sacred spot for the funeral rites of Pāṇḍu.

The family priests went out of the city without loss of time, carrying with them the blazing sacred fire fed with clarified butter and rendered fragrant therewith.

 

{Why are they carrying blazing sacred fire fed with clarified butter?

That’s because the bodies of Pāṇḍ& Mādrī are still to be burnt – they have not yet been burnt.

In other words, Mādrī never “ascended the funeral pile”.

There is no “Satī” – but there is definitely suicide.}

 

Then friends, relatives, and adherents, wrapping it up in cloth, decked the body of the monarch with the flowers of the season and sprinkled various excellent perfumes over it.

And they also decked the hearse itself with garlands & rich hangings.

Then placing the covered body of the king with that of his queen on that excellent bier decked out so brightly, they caused it to be carried on human shoulders.

 

{To think that all this is being done to “unburnt portions” of deadbodies that were cremated 17 days ago, is grotesque – ridiculous teetering on the verge of hilarious.

Nor is all this applicable to few bone-shards of deadbodies, i.e. asthis.

Clearly, the bodies are not burnt.

All this makes perfect sense when we realize that there was no funeral before.}

 

With the white umbrella (of state) held over the hearse with waving yak-tails and sounds of various musical instruments, the whole scene looked bright & grand.

Hundreds of people began to distribute gems among the crowd on the occasion of the funeral rites of the king.

At length some beautiful robes, and white umbrellas & larger yak-tails, were brought for the great ceremony.”

 

We are given further descriptions of the procession, and then:

“At last they came to a romantic wood on the banks of the Gagā.

There they laid down the hearse on which the truthful and lion-hearted prince and his spouse lay.

{Again, a clear indication that Pāṇḍ& Mādrī are still unburnt.}

Then they brought water in many golden vessels, washed the prince’s body besmeared before with several kinds of fragrant paste, and again smeared it over with sandal paste.

{Again, Ganguli’s translation is inaccurate, but it’s a minor point about sandal-pastes.}    

They then dressed it in a white dress made of indigenous fabrics.

And with the new suit on, the king seemed as if he was living and only sleeping on a costly bed.”

 

If there could be any doubts, these passages should clear them for once & for all.

First, washing “the unburnt portions” – or the “asthis – of Pāṇḍu’s  body – with various kinds of sandal paste, and then smearing it/them over with sandal paste – is totally untenable.

Second, nor can “asthis” be “dressed ... in a white dress made of indigenous fabrics.

The Hindi translator makes colossal blunder after blunder by pressing such a notion.

But above all, the statement that the king seemed as if he was living and only sleeping on a costly bed proves that Pāṇḍu’s body was NOT partially burnt – and it certainly proves that we’re not talking of remains of a deadbody from a funeral pyre – but a proper, intact, preserved corpse which has not been burnt.

The “unburnt portion” of a 17-day old corpse can never look “as if ... living & only sleeping on a costly bed”.

Which means: Pāṇḍwas not burnt.

Which means: Mādrī never committed “Satī.   


 And finally:

“When the other funeral ceremonies also were finished in consonance with the directions of the priests, the Kauravas set fire to the dead bodies of the king and the queen, bringing lotuses, sandal-paste, and other fragrant substances to the pyre.        

Then seeing the bodies aflame,  Kausalyā {i.e. Ambālikā, the mother of  Pāṇḍu} burst out, ‘O my son, my son!’ – & fell down senseless on the ground.

And seeing her down the citizens & the inhabitants of the provinces began to wail from grief & affection for their king.

And the birds of the air & the beasts of the field were touched by the lamentations of Kuntī.

And Bhīshma, the son of Shāntanu, & the wise Vidura, & the others also that were there, became disconsolate.”

 

IT IS NOW THAT THE DEADBODIES OF PĀṆḌU & MĀDRĪ HAVE BEEN BURNT.

THEY HAD NOT BEEN CREMATED, EARLIER. 

More evidence is not needed, to show that the whole episode of Mādrī committing Satī is a later fabrication – a very mysterious & strange imposition indeed – and that the original text itself contains corruptions, and interpolations.

Because, on the one hand, the original refers to her self-immolation, and then the original text itself talks about how their bodies were brought to Hastināpura, wrapped, cleansed, decorated, carried, and the burnt.

But if the whole series of events is taken in toto, one realizes that Mādrī committed suicide, NOT burn herself on a pyre, and her body is preserved by the ascetics & sages, along with the deadbody of her husband, Pāṇḍu.

Why, when, and who interpolated the self-immolation, is the mystery.

Given that Satyavatī {the grandmother of DhtarāshraPāṇḍ& Vidura} is alive despite the death of her husband, the King Shāntanu – and that Ambikā & Ambālikā are alive despite the death of Vicitravīrya – shows that the practice of Satī did NOT exist then.

But people did commit suicide, in certain situations, especially on the death of loved ones; wives did end their lives when their husbands died – apparently, when they chose to do so themselves – but this kind of suicide was no way restricted to wives. 
Such self-killing seems to be a normal practice in Ancient India. 
I shall come to other examples of the same in other posts in the future.