“Ma! Ma! I don’t want to die!”
Ten-year-old Surya came running up to Leela. Her thirteen-year-old brother was hard at her heels, brandishing a magazine that carried the story of the Deorala sati in all its gory detail.
“When you get married, you will have to die with your husband!” taunted Santosh.
Leela comforted the panting Surya, and turned to Santosh. “What are you saying? Wherever did you get such an idea?”
“Why Ma, it is in all the newspapers and magazines. It is a woman’s duty to her husband.”
“What nonsense!” Now Leela was seeing red. “Don’t misinterpret what you read. That was just one instance of the revival of a barbaric custom. Everyone in their right minds are condemning the whole act. You should, too.”
“Oh no Ma, why should anyone condemn something done for religion. After all, it is a decree from the scriptures that a woman who dies on her husband’s pyre is the purest of all.”
Leela tried to reason with her son. “Why should the scriptures be misinterpreted to condone human sacrifice?”
“I don’t want to die!” wailed Surya.
“You won’t die, Surya. Your brother is talking nonsense.”
“How can you say that, Ma, when millions of people are going to the place and making it a sacred monument. In fact, that girl is being worshipped as a goddess. Imagine Surya becoming a goddess! Then I will be the brother of a goddess!”
“I don’t want to be a goddess! I don’t want to die!” Surya’s wails got louder.
“Goddess Surya! Goddess Surya!” chanted Santosh.
“Will you be quiet!” Leela was ready to administer corporeal punishment but Santosh deftly dodged her swinging arm and scampered away.
Surya was still very shaken. “Mama, I don’t want to get married, ever.”
“Why my little one, you don’t have to worry about that now.”
“But Mama, you must promise to not get me married.”
Leela realized that her daughter wanted the matter resolved right there and then.
“You don’t have to get married if you don’t want to, Surya. But getting married doesn’t mean that you have to die when your husband does.”
“But then, why did Roop Kanwar commit Sati?”
“That is a difficult question. No one really knows why. But what she did was wrong, whether she knew it or not. It is wrong to take your own life, just as it is wrong to kill someone else.”
Surya thought this over for a few seconds, then said, “But no one stopped her. That means they agreed with what she did.”
“They were wrong not to stop her. They should have prevented her from climbing the pyre.”
Another thought struck Surya. “She was such a pretty girl. Maybe she was very very sad that her husband had died and she couldn’t live without him.”
“Maybe. But that is still no reason to kill herself.”
At that moment, Santosh walked back into the room, wearing an innocent expression. “Yes Surya, isn’t it a noble thought to die with your life partner?”
Surya looked at her brother hopefully. “Will you commit sati when your wife dies?”
“Huh!” snorted Santosh. “Men don’t commit sati. It is only for women.”
Surya looked genuinely aghast. “That’s not fair! If a woman has to die with her husband, the man should also have to die with his wife.”
“You don’t know anything,” scoffed Santosh. “Men are the masters whom their wives obey.”
“Really Santosh!” Leela was astonished at her son’s philosophy. “Where do you get all these antiquated ideas? You are reading too many comic books.” She turned to Surya, whose eyes were brimming over again.
“Don’t listen to him. Even if you do get married, you will never have to commit sati. Sati is against the law. Remember Raja Ram Mohan Roy in your history textbook? He had sati labeled a crime and abolished. Besides, why should your husband die? And even if he does, you must live on, for the sake of all the other people who care for you. And most important, for yourself as well.”
1987. Published in the Deccan Chronicle.
Written in response to the September 4 1987 burning of Roop Kanwar on her husband’s funeral pyre in Deorala, Rajasthan, India.
INFORMATION ON THE ROOP KANWAR CASE CAN BE FOUND IN: