He is dumb from holding fire in his mouth
and could as well be dead, despite the fire:
not because he has no words,
he will have no kingdom if there is no fire.
The priest knows it, mumbles incantation to Agni,
offers ghee to the potent heat searing the tongue.
What feeds the fire, is it words or ghee,
or the word ghee uttered by the priest?
Fire rolls out of the sealed mouth,
as man to woman, word to desire is wedded.
The word births history, colonizes earth,
marks boundaries and draws maps.
Story softens brutality, so does poetry,
holds god’s attention to syllables and declensions
while the fire scorches the grass. Stubbles of flames
fanned by wind unfurls, licks acres of river plains.
Pathways open as forests are razed and animals burnt –
a blighted day when a word can rule the God of Fire.
Source: Satapatha Brahmana (700 BCE)
The story of Mathava in Satapatha Brahmana narrates the eastward movement of the Aryan tribe from the banks of River Sarasvati to regions near River Sadanira, present day Ghagara. It is a document of conquest and expansion mythologised in a story.