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Tales from Indian Mythology On an auspicious day, Aswapati, accompanied by Savitri and some elders, arrived at the ashram of Dyumatsena. Prostrat ing himself before the royal exile, Aswapati announced the purpose of his visit. "You are not fair to your daughter,” said Dyumatsena, "Why do you condemn her to the rigors of an ashram life?"
"O Splendour of the Salwa clan,” replied Aswapati, “my daughter realizes that happiness and misery are like light and darkness. Neither is permanent. What endures is love, the sort of love that unites your worthy son and Savitri. So gracious sage, bless them both.”
Dyumatsena at last gave his consent to the marriage of Savitri to Satyavan, which was presently celebrated at the ashram with ascetic simplicity and dignity.
After the wedding, Savitri put on the hermit's brown garb of bark and dedicated herself to the service of her husband and his parents. His joys and sorrows became hers too, and he found in her not only a companion but a counsellor. She would anticipate his interests and satisfy them in a manner worthy of the gift of the gods. He was always bright and vivacious and the nearer the day of his death approached, the greater became his lustre and liveliness. And she reciprocated his zest for living, at the same time concealing her grief over his impending doom.
"Look!” he said one morning pointing to the luxuriance by the lakeside where they first met. "That flower is waiting to pour its fragrance into your thick black hair. Let me bring it to you before it drops to dust." She smiled, and tears trickled down her cheeks. Having plucked the flower, he came back in
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