In a previous post, in examining what evidence exists, in Vālmiki’s Rāmāyaṇa, to show that the out-caste woman, Shabarī, was an actual sage, a tapasvinī, a practioner of austerities sanctioned by the Vedic Āryas – we saw that after showing Rāma & Lakṣmaṇa around the hermitage of the sage Mātaṅga, Shabarī burns her body, acquires a splendidly luminous divine form, adorned with divya-ābharaṇa {divine ornaments}, divya-mālya {divine garlands or necklaces}, anointed with divya-anulepa {divine unguents} – and ascends to heaven {svarga}.
We are told that she offers herself like an oblation {huta} into the fire {hutāśana}.
This is a link to that post:
https://in-the-beginning-was-the-ecstasy.blogspot.com/2021/03/casteism-women-self-immolation-and-sati.html
There, I had indicated that a sort of “ritual” suicide – rather, abandonment of one’s body – seems to be a prevalent act, in Ancient India.
The word “ritual” suicide is not correct.
Neither is “religious” suicide.
It doesn’t seem to be a custom – more like something that was simply common in a society & accepted by people.
This is very important, because the practice of Satī – if it ever existed – must always be viewed with such norms or prevalent practices, in the background.
I had written, and need to re-iterate, 2 points in this context:-
“1. If the story of Shabarī is symbolic, or allegorical, so is her self-immolation.
In this case, every element & aspect of the episode – & the epic itself – is symbolic – doesn’t have to be taken literally – has philosophical significance – and all these self-immolations, burnings, enterings into the fire, etc. are all symbolic, and none are reflective of actual practices.
2. If the story is “based on” certain historical facts or at least actual, historical customs & rites – i.e. rites which used to be followed once upon a time, in the ancient world – then self-immolation, or renouncing one’s physical body by burning oneself on a pyre – was something quite acceptable, almost normal – but not a gratitutous suicide, of course.
In that case, Shabarī is a female tapasvī or sādhu – and such tapasvins or sādhus, at a certain point, committed their bodies to the flames, i.e. they renounced their bodies.
They would do this because they sought higher, subtler, more exalted states of existence above & beyond those of this Earth.
We see almost an identical instance in the case of the Sage Sharabhaṅga, who also immolates himself in a fire – and we’re told, ascends to Brahma-loka, in the 5th Chapter of the Aranya Kāṇḍa.
I will come to that episode later.”
Sharabhaṅga’s self-immolation – i.e. his “entering the sacred fire” – is a lot like Shabarī’s self-immolation.
We’re told that he prepared a fire – poured oblations {huta} in it, with mantras – and then “entered into the fire” {hutāśana} {3.5.39}.
Then, just as Shabarī emerged {after her incineration}, as a “flaming fire” {jvalat pāvaka, 3.74.33}, irradiating the entire region with her radiance flashing like lighting, so also Sharabhaṅga emerges from the fire as a young boy {kumāra}, as resplendent as fire {pāvaka}, and blazed forth {with splendor}.
Then, he ascends to Brahma-Loka {this is a somewhat tricky issue: in the very first verse of the next chapter, we are told he has gone to heaven, diva}.
The descriptions are almost identical.
We are told that nothing of Sharabhaṅga’s physical body remains: his hair, blood, and bones – all are perfectly burnt down, by the fire (3.5.40).
While this specific detail is not mentioned in the case of Shabarī, it is evident that such is the case, because no mention is made of her bones or her remains.
Thus, in the Rāmayaṇa itself we see two unambiguous cases of two sages – two ascetics – two Ṛṣis – one male & “higher-caste” – and one female & out-caste – casting off their bodies, by “entering” the fire – in other words, burning themselves.
This may be symbolic – this may be an actual practice.
In the first case, all self-immolations should be symbolic in one way or the other – including what we call “Satī”.
In the second case, self-immolation wasn’t something unusual, frightening, “primitive”, or unexpected – and Satī, as an actual practice, would never have been viewed as some prejudice or grave injustice, but one of the many forms of self-immolation or suicide prevalent in Ancient India.
Tulsidās, in his Rama-Carita-Mānasa, clearly reveals the inner significance of Shabarī’s self-immolation:
“After telling the whole story she {i.e. Shabarī} gazed on the Lord’s countenance and imprinted the image of His lotus feet on her heart; and casting her body in the fire of Yoga {“yoga pāvaka”} she entered Śrī Hari’s state {hari-pada} wherefrom there is no return.”
This changes everything.
There is no literal burning at all.
It seems as if, much later, in the 18th & 19th centuries, when the entire Ancient Brahmanical system had faded away, and people re-wrote & re-interpreted these old texts, they have taken the symbol as the fact.
The very idea that Shabarī burns herself in the fire of yoga, changes the whole tenor of the epic, and everything written within it.
How can an out-caste woman – one outside the catur-varṇa system – one who is no even a Shūdra – even know what is yoga?
Tulsidās has to somehow maintain the later, changed social structure, of Late-Medieval India {when he wrote}, and thus, says that Rāma conferred immortality {su-gati} on excellent servitors like Shabarī & Jaṭāyu, but a closer look, even a second examination, of the text will reveal that Shabarī is a yoginī – and Jaṭāyu is no bird.
Another point I’d mention passingly is that there is return from svarga – the immortality of svarga or diva is a partial “immortality” – the whole concept of Mokṣa rests on the fact that svarga itself is not immortal.
One comes back to the mortal world, after one exhausts one’s good merits, in heaven.
This demands not just the highest ascesis, the most difficult yoga, but also the highest knowledge, or jñāna.
So does a woman lower than the 4 varṇas – Shabarī – achieve Mokṣa, or go to heaven?
And how could she do so, without the requisite jñāna?
Let’s leave that issue for a later time, perhaps, and come to the issue of self-immolation or suicide, in India.
By “suicide” I mean ending one’s life, out of sheer despair, or prolonged suffering.
It should not come as a surprise to those who are sore-confused about Satī, that Indians – relatives or family-members – DID end their lives, voluntarily, after the death of a loved one – and parents did so quite often – by cremating themselves.
There are examples of this behavior, and then there are many indirect references to such practices.
One example is that of the parents of Shravaṇa.
The episode of Shravaṇa in the Rāmāyaṇa is interesting from 2 distinct points of view:-
1. The allowability of knowledge – especially of the Shāstras – to the “lower-castes”.
2. The practice of family-members burning, cremating or immolating themselves on the death of a loved one.
We all know that Shravaṇa is the young man who is killed accidentally by Daśaratha in the forest, while he was collecting water from a river.
Daśaratha is out on a hunting expedition, when he hears a noise like that of an elephant {perhaps a gurgling, or rumbling sound?}.
Without bothering to find out whether there was an animal or not, Daśaratha shoots an arrow in that direction, and being an expert archer, actually hits his mark.
Unfortunately, the sound was made by a young man filling water in his pitcher, and not by an elephant.
Shravaṇa, obviously, struck from an arrow out of nowhere, starts crying out & lamenting in pain.
It’s interesting that in this lamentation, he calls himself a tapasvin {an ascetic, a practioneer of tapas, or austerities} (2.63.28) – and a ṛṣi (2.63.30).
Quite logically, he also says (2.63.30) that he
· merely subsists on fruits & roots {the produce of a forest, strictly speaking}, and
· is leading a life of non-violence {nyastadaṇḍa – ‘one who has laid down the rod’, meek, harmless – i.e. a Ṛṣi or a tapasvī never harms any creature’s life }.
Like Shabarī, and like all other ascetics in Indian literature, he bears a tufted mass of matted hair {jaṭā-bhāra-dhara} on his head, and wears clothes made of bark & a deer-skin {valkala-ajina-vāsas} (2.63.31).
Daśaratha himself calls Shravaṇa an ascetic, tāpasa (2.63.38) – just as Shabarī is called a tāpasī (3.74.10).
He calls him tapodhana (2.63.52 – Hindi translation) – just as Shabarī is called tapodhanā (3.74.8).
He is possessed of effulgence, or splendor, or energy – tejas – Daśaratha says he feels scorched by this effulgence (2.63.40).
While questioning Daśaratha about his foolish & fatal stroke, Shravaṇa refers to the tapas {the sacred austerities or ascesis} & the śruta {sacred knowledge} of his, and/or his parents’ (2.63.44).
This is perfectly understandable, since nobody can be a ṛṣi, a tāpasa, and wear matted locks of hair & clothes of bark & deer-skin, without knowledge of the scripture, i.e. without being a śruta.
We are told that Shravaṇa’s parents live in a hermitage, an āshrama (2.63.47) – like all other Ṛṣi-Munis do.
Then comes the most interesting part.
While Daśaratha is debating in his mind whether to extract the arrow-head from Shravaṇa’s body or not – because doing so would indubitably cause the young man’s death – Shravaṇa informs him that he is not a Brāhmaṇa (2.63.53).
Shravaṇa’s father is a Vaishya, and his mother, a Shūdra-woman (2.63.53).
This is an important point, because, had Shravaṇa been a Brāhmaṇa, Daśaratha would have been guilty of the cardinal sin of Brahma-hatyā.
As we are informed very pointedly, had he killed a Brāhmaṇa intentionally, even Indra would be expelled from his lofty position {as the King of Devas} (2.64.23).
If Daśaratha would’ve killed a muni established in tapas, or a brahmacārin {the Vedic student}, his head would have burst into 7 pieces {some inspiration for J.K. Rowling’s concept of horcruxes?? :)}
Since Shravaṇa is not a Brāhmaṇa, he – Daśaratha – is still alive.
This is important, because it is the curse of Shravaṇa’s father that Daśaratha remembers, before dying, after his separation from Rāma.
But the most relevant point is that the son of a Vaishya-man & a Shūdra-woman – i.e. Shravaṇa – is called a Ṛṣi – indeed, he is called a Mahā-Ṛṣi (2.64.1) – and he is living the life of a “higher-caste” ascetic, saint, & sage in the forest in a hermitage.
He is endowed with all the characteristics & credentials of any sage from the Brahmanical or Kṣatriya varṇas.
Our attention is immediately drawn to the fact of inter-caste marriage: his father and mother belong to two different castes – his mother, to the “lowest” – and yet, he seems to have all the qualifications, all the knowledge, all the freedoms, and all the respect & reverence, of the so-called “higher castes”.
Clearly, inter-caste marriage was allowed – this should be known to anyone who’s actually read our texts – but the important point is that his mother being a Shūdra doesn’t debar him from being a Muni, a Maharṣi, from studying the Shāstras.
We are again & again told that “Brahmins” never “shared” their knowledge with anybody – but we have two very similar instances of people – one, Shabarī, and the other Shravaṇa
– one belonging altogether to a community outside the pale of Ārya-Vedic society, to a despised tribal community mostly known for its cruelty
– the other, the progeny of inter-caste marriage, the son of a Shūdra woman
– and yet, they have the same qualities, have the same knowledge, they both lead the same life, as higher-caste Vedic-Āryas, and are addressed with the same reverence accorded to the highest cadre of Ārya renunciates, saints & sages.
How can one be a tāpasī, or called a dharma-cārinī {in the very first chapter of the epic (1.1.56)} – as Shabarī is called?
How can the progeny of two “lower caste” people be a Maharṣi (2.64.1) & a Mahātmā (2.64.13)?
{Akin to the dharma-cārinī Shabarī, Shravaṇa is also called dhārmika – one endued with righteousness or dharma, in 2.64.32.}
Here it should be clarified that the three “upper” castes – Brāhmaṇas, Kṣatriyas, as well as Vaiśyas – were fully, & always, entitled – to study the Vedas, and perform Yajñas.
Modern Anti-Hindu propaganda – frantically trying to tear down the fabric of Hindu society – singles out the Brāhmaṇas, and occasionally attacks the “Thakurs” {i.e. the Kṣatriyas} – as the “oppressors”, who hoarded all the knowledge to themselves.
They conveniently leave out the Vaiśyas, and the “Baniyās”, who were equally entitled & required to study the Vedas.
Thus, modern Anti-Hindu propaganda has insidiously divided Hindu society into two camps – with the “Pandits & Thakurs” on one side – and the Baniyās & Shūdras on the other.
The “Baniyās” are mostly not talked about, but their inclusion amongst the “oppressed” & “denied” is tacitly agreed upon.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Vaiśyas were allowed to study the Vedas, perform Yajñas, retire into the forest as Vānaprasthas, and even allowed to become Sanyāsīs.
Shravaṇa’s father is a Vaiśya.
Daśaratha is precisely cursed by this Vaiśya.
He is not only a Vaiśya, he has married a Shūdra woman.
And yet, he is called, or addressed as:
1. muni (2.64.7, 11, 20, 29)
2. bhagavan (2.64.14, 17)
3. bhagavān ṛṣi (2.64.21)
4. tāpasa (2.64.52)
We are told that he was mahā-tejaḥ, endowed with great effulgence (2.64.22, 52) – a term, though used profusely for all sorts of powerful, radiant characters, is invariably used for {Brahmanical} Ṛṣis of the loftiest, most powerful sort.
In Ṛṣis, it is usually indicative of the peculiar luminousness, energy & power which radiates from their bodies by virtue of their tapas & yoga, and is called brahma-tejas.
Shravaṇa himself is called “the son of a Muni” (muni-suta:2.63.50; muni-putra: 2.64.48).
Thus, being a Vaiśya, & being the offspring of a Vaiśya man & a Shūdra woman, certainly did not debar a man from becoming a muni, a ṛṣi – i.e. did not debar him from studying the Vedas, the Shāstras, and practising tapas.
Shravaṇa is half-Shūdra, like Vidura, he is not a Brāhmaṇa or Kṣatriya – and yet, he reads the sacred text {śāstra} (2.64.33), and, like Shabarī, ascends to heaven – but in his case – along with Indra (2.64.48).
The half-Shūdra, after his death, converses with his parents, along with Indra, and says that he has obtained a lofty station {mahat sthāna} (2.64.50).
Like Shabarī, who acquires a special form delightful to behold {priya-darśana (3.74.34)} – Shravaṇa acquires a beautiful form {vapuśmanta} – and like Sharabhaṅga, goes to diva, i.e. heaven {in a (divine) vehicle {vimāna}} (2.64.51).
To put it plainly {& rather crudely}, the Vaiśya Ṛṣi, his father, blesses the half-Vaiśya-half-Shūdra muni Shravaṇa that he shall attain to the status of all great kings, like Sagara, Shaibya, Dilīpa, Janamejaya etc. (2.64.43) – that he shall attain to the Highest State {in the after-life}, the param-gati, which is obtained by heroes {śūras}, who, without turning from a fight, are slain in battle – that is, the most valiant, intrepid warriors (2.64.42).
A Shūdra-woman’s son could attain to the same heavenly status as the most honorable & courageous Kṣatriyas.
I do not see any “oppression” & “exploitation” in all this.
Not the modern picture of it, for sure.
Last but not the least, Shravaṇa’s father calls his Shūdra mother an ascetic, a tapasvinī (2.64.26).
How can a Shūdra woman be a tapasvinī, without some knowledge of the Shāstras?
Please note that I am not attempting to establish any sort of “equality” out here.
What I am trying to establish is accessibility to the knowledge {jñāna}, to the śāstras, to Sanskrit, the right to a life of asceticism & austerity, to become a tapasvī or a sādhu or a muni.
Kālīdāsa, who must’ve written at least 5-6 centuries after the original Rāmāyaṇa, more or less passes over this most interesting fact of Shravaṇa being half-Shūdra, and Daśaratha being cursed by a venerable sage who is a Vaiśya.
He does call Shravaṇa a Muni, and informs us that he belongs to a class of ascetics other than that of Brāhmaṇas {Raghuvaṃśa 9.76}, but that is all.
The word used is dvija – “twice-born”.
Though Vaiśyas were included amongst dvijas, the word is invariably used for Brāhmaṇas.
Thus, it’s rational to conclude that Kālīdāsa is merely informing us of the non-Brahmanical status of Shravaṇa & his parents.
Shravaṇa is “dvijetaratapasvisutam” – the son of a tapasvī other than a dvija, i.e. other than a Brāhmaṇa.
If “dvija” doesn’t mean Brāhmaṇa mean here, and includes all three upper castes, it implies there were tapasvīs which belonged to a caste even lower than the Vaiśya – which would be all the more astonishing.
It should be noted that Kālīdāsa’s version of the episode is a little different from that of Vālmiki’s, and so is his rendition of the Rāmāyaṇa itself.
Getting into this topic would make the post too long, but the essentials of this subject itself do not change.
Tulsīdās, as far as I know, passes over the incident almost entirely, making only the most fleeting reference to Daśaratha having been cursed by a blind hermit {tāpasa}.
Neither Kālīdāsa nor Tulsīdās, dwell upon this episode, which precludes any deeper inquiry into the “social status” of Shravaṇa & his parents.
It also ties in with Shabarī being an ascetic, who attains Heaven.
Now I shall come to the other part of the episode: that of self-immolation.
After his death, Shravaṇa’s blind old father & mother – a Vaishya Ṛṣi-Muni & a Shūdra tapasvinī – both burn themselves on a funeral pyre (citā).
And then, they too ascend to heaven {svarga} (2.64.58).
Indeed, they attain to the same exalted, lofty region which is attained by their son {Shravaṇa himself says they shall}.
In Ancient Indian literature, there are some other instances of parents immolating themselves on the death of their children.
This evidence indicates that self-immolation was not seen as something absurd, but as an expression of extreme love & loyalty.
Indians didn’t have a concept of one earthly-life followed by either eternal heaven or eternal hell – but the concept of constant rebirths – even millions & millions of births.
This conviction was so deep-rooted, that it made them quite contemptuous of clinging to earthly life, and they freely & unapologetically abandoned their fleshly bodies when they no longer desired to live.
Their love for their family, or for their own mental serenity & self-respect, was so powerful, that they didn’t care to cling to this life like weak creepers on a thorny tree, but would rather perish in brilliant, blazing flames, & rise to heaven.
Death was better than Indignity.
But then, there may be other considerations too, purely spiritual, based on their own peculiar metaphysics.
Suffering, or the prospect of prolonged suffering, might not have been the only incentive.
I had written in the earlier post quoted above:
“Nobody has compelled or manipulated either Sharabhaṅga or Shabarī, to burn themselves.
They seem to be in no particular distress – their honor & dignity is not at stake anywhere – and they are neither disabled nor diseased.
There is no specific reason for them to set their own bodies on fire.
But they do so.
Allegorically, these are all indicative of yogic processes.”
This applies to Shravaṇa’s ascetic, forest-dwelling parents, to an extent.
It may be said that they were blind, & old, & had no one to take care of them: which would be a rather odd thing – couldn’t they have asked Daśaratha for sustenance?
Couldn’t Daśaratha have offered it?
Couldn’t they have moved to some other hermitage?
I’m sure there were other options, but they chose to immolate themselves, because such a thing wasn’t absurd or unthinkable – and because they couldn’t bear any separation from their son.
They chose NOT to be dependent, to beg, to plead, to live at the mercy of others, but to burn themselves, and be free from any sort of servitude & submission.
This is pride & dignity of the highest order.
Before I close this post, there’s another indication that self-immolation was not some monstrous, wicked, cowardly or misguided practice in Ancient India, and that the practice of Satī should be analyzed only against this background, against this context.
Shravaṇa’s father, in his frantic despair, out of his hopeless love & helplessness, blesses his sinless {apāpa} son (2.64.41, 44-45), saying, that Shravaṇa shall attain the lofty state {after death} attained by:
1. all ascetics, or rather, all saintly, sacred men {sarva-sādhu} who study the Vedas {svadhyāya}
2. those who practise tapas
3. those who give away land in charity {bhūmi-da, presumably to Brāhmaṇas performing rites on their behalf}
4. those who maintain the sacrificial fire – or performing fire-sacrifices {ahitāgni}
5. those who are devoted to a single wife {eka-patni-vrata}
6. those who gift a thousand cows
7. those who take care of their preceptors {guru-bhṛta}, and
8. those who abandon their bodies {deha-nyāsa-kṛta}.
This has been understood as those who renounce their life by fasting – another peculiar practice in Ancient India – but there were many other forms of renouncing the body, which I shall come to, later.
Remember, again, that Shravaṇa is neither Brāhmaṇa nor Kṣatriya.
Remember, Shravaṇa is not a “pure” member of any of the three “higher” castes.
Remember, Shravaṇa is, by birth, half-Vaishya & half-Shūdra.
Remember, a half-Vaishya & half-Shūdra is compared to sādhus engaged in study of the Vedas.
Remember, he himself is a Muni, a Rṣi, a Maha-Rṣi, one who recites the Shāstras, one who ascends to heaven along with Indra.
Does all this look like the “lower castes” were debarred from knowledge, from the Shāstras, from Sanskrit – and from leading the lofty, austere & highly venerated life of the most illustrious ascetics?
I don’t think so.
A lot can be written about this peculiar list of people, obviously held in great esteem, by Ancient Indians.
Anyone who has read this post this far, can see, the most important point is that of people who abandon their bodies.
“Abandoning one’s body” was a very common practice in Ancient India – {if we take all such references literally, as indicative of real, historical facts} – and in such an “atmosphere”, Satī seems just another form of getting rid of the “mortal coil”.
There are a lot more many dimensions to this issue: such as that of human sacrifice, or the slaying/burning/cremation/
If it did exist in India, Satī cannot be understood without a comprehensive knowledge of all such facts garnered from across the world.
I’m not justifying it – I am trying to comprehend how such a practice arose, what were its antecedents, in what type of environment did it exist, if it did.
It may not be seen as an expression of “savage barbarity” either, since the Aztecs, who were powerful city-builders, & extremely wealthy, practised the most blood-freezing human sacrifices {if the missionary accounts are true}.
People across the world did not necessarily think that sacrificing oneself, either for a spouse, or a King, or for the Gods, or for society, was “barbaric”.
Probably we are being lily-livered – we are expressing how chicken-hearted we are – in thinking that they were “barbaric”.
Probably they were being heroic, and saw themselves as fiercely loyal & irrepressible.
A woman would rather burn herself in fire, than be the object of surreptitious, clandestine passes by lecherous men {mostly relatives & neighbors} – rather than live in perpetual fear of abuse & rape, taunts & lewd jokes – rather than living in continual sexual frustration, with impure thoughts keeping the mind & body agitated – rather than being a second or third or fourth wife, and being looked upon as if someone did a favor on her by marrying her.
If anything, it is an image of strength, not of weakness.
Also, as I said, it has a lot to do with Faith – with belief in the after-life – in men’s devotion to the gods – in the conviction of being bound by inextricable karmic bonds across births & ages.
People took all this very seriously: for them, the gods, the spirits – and the invisible process of moral-&-spiritual exchange, barter & cyclical generation, death & re-generation which continually governed the visible world – was as real as the trees, rivers, stones, and mountains about us.
As for human sacrifice & cannibalistic rituals, undoubtedly, most of these practices were cruel, filthy, and perhaps turned into vicious political expedients: that’s why they were done away with.
But incest, cannibalism, human sacrifice, and self-killing were “living realities” across the world once upon a time, and were certainly around, when the Rāmāyaṇa & Mahābhārata were written.
One of the most important attributes of Rāvaṇa, and the Rākṣasas ruled by him, is that they are a race of cannibals.
If a cannibal like Rāvaṇa could overrun the world, and instill fear even in a powerful Emperor like Daśaratha – it means such sordid practices were rife, in India, then.
How terrible can self-immolation or Satī be, in a world, in which a powerful conqueror like Rāvaṇa threatens Sītā to eat her, if she doesn’t succumb to his lust?
If people considered one normal, they would not consider the other to be outrageous.
That said, I am convinced that neither Brāhmaṇas, nor “Aryans”, nor Vedas “imposed” Satī on Indian society.
That is a most ridiculous notion, unless the custom was imposed as a very desperate measure against some very disturbing social issue.
I shall come to that too, in good time.
