The dark traditions of Hinduism

 Sati: A Feminist Reflection on Fire, Sacrifice, and Control

The story of Sati, the widow who steps into her husband’s funeral pyre, is one of the most haunting and complex narratives in Indian history. It’s a story that has been wrapped in layers of devotion, duty, and honor, but when I strip it down, what I see is control. Control over women’s bodies, their choices, and ultimately, their lives.

Growing up with one foot in the West and the other in my father’s deeply spiritual Indian world, I was always drawn to stories like this,tales of devotion and sacrifice that sounded beautiful on the surface but held a darker weight underneath. As I dug deeper, I realized Sati was not just a cultural tradition; it was a reflection of how societies have long feared a woman untethered from a man.

The Illusion of Choice

We’re told that Sati was once a voluntary act, a woman’s ultimate devotion to her husband, even a way to achieve spiritual liberation. But can we really call it a choice when the alternative was a life of social isolation, humiliation, and economic struggle? In a society that placed a widow on the fringes, where she was stripped of color, joy, and purpose, the flames of Sati might have seemed like the only dignified escape.

In that sense, it was never about devotion; it was about survival. And that survival, for many women, meant walking willingly into the fire.

The Control of Fire and Women

Fire has always been a symbol of purity in Hinduism, used in rituals, marriages, and even death. But when I think about Sati, I can’t help but wonder: why was it the woman who had to burn? Why wasn’t a man expected to follow his wife in death? The answer is obvious, because Sati was never about spiritual transcendence. It was about keeping women in their place, about ensuring they had no life beyond their husbands. It was about erasing their existence if they dared to outlive the men society saw as their reason for being.

And yet, even in death, these women became tools for the patriarchy, held up as symbols of honor, worshiped for their sacrifice while living women remained invisible, voiceless, and powerless.

Breaking Free from the Pyre

The banning of Sati in the 19th century was a victory, but let’s not fool ourselves into thinking the fire has truly been extinguished. The spirit of Sati lives on in every expectation that a woman’s worth is tied to a man, in the widow who is still encouraged to live a quiet life of mourning, in the pressures to conform, to sacrifice, to serve. It’s there when women are told to be selfless, to give until there’s nothing left of them.

And it’s something I’ve had to unlearn too. As a woman who was raised to nurture, to make space, to carry the weight of tradition, I’ve learned that choosing myself isn’t selfish, it’s survival. True devotion, I believe, is not about losing yourself in someone else; it’s about honoring your own fire, your own path.

Honoring the Women, Not the Sacrifice

When I think of the women who walked into those flames, I don’t see martyrs, I see women who deserved more. More choices, more freedom, more life. And maybe the best way to honor them is not by glorifying their sacrifice, but by making sure no woman ever has to make that choice again.

Let the fire of Sati be a reminder—not of devotion, but of how far we’ve come, and how much further we have to go.

~Shanti Freedom Das