Great Bharata, Volume I, page 22
CHAPTER 24
The entire village surrounded the royal pair, trying as discreetly as possible — it was not very discreet — to overhear what was said. Seeing this, Dāśa-rāja, fisher king, invited his daughter and her tall friend into his cottage. There Satya at once made the introductions, explaining that the great Kuru king had been traveling incognito.
Dāśa-rāja and his wife stared at Śan-tanu with astonishment and incredulity. Their natural reverence for kings bent their bodies at the waist and lowered their heads, but their incredulity froze their bodies mid-bow, from where they looked up at him with questioning eyes.
Śan-tanu smiled and said, “Please don’t trouble yourselves with formalities. I understand how strange it must seem to see me in this attire, and worse, accompanying your daughter before receiving your blessing. Forgive me for what appears to be an indiscretion; however, the circumstances of our meeting, and acquaintance, deprived us of the honor of seeking your prior blessings.”
The fisher king’s wife, hearing a voice and language that could only be that of a king, now completed her bow. Dāśa-rāja quickly followed her, making grand bows to the Kuru king that convinced Satya-vatī that it was a terrible mistake to bring Śan-tanu here.
When her foster father then began to explain that he was also a king of sorts, ruling the local fishing community, Satya was tempted to mount her horse and ride away. Seeing her discomfort, Dāśa-rāṇi intervened, inviting everyone to sit down to a hearty meal. Śan-tanu explained, with expressions of gratitude, that he had eaten recently, and so must decline her kind hospitality. After an awkward pause, Śan-tanu earnestly declared his intention to marry Satya-vatī, who anxiously studied her foster parents’ reaction. As Śan-tanu spoke, Dāśa-rāja nodded politely, rocking back and forth in his seat. Her foster father was tight-lipped, grave, impenetrable. Satya knew that this mood portended some sort of trouble and she braced herself. When the Kuru king finished, the fisher king thanked him with a false humility that embarrassed Satya, and added, “O Kuru king, from my daughter’s infancy, I knew that someday I would give her hand in marriage to a great man.”
He turned to Satya-vatī. “Dear child, we raised you from infancy. We have no other child. You will break your mother’s heart, and mine, if you marry without our blessings.”
Her mother said, “Satya, we dedicated our lives to you. Promise us that you will take our blessings to marry.”
Anxious to placate and silence her foster parents, Satya said, “Of course I will marry with your blessings. That’s why we came here. So please, give us your blessings now.”
The fisher king looked at his wife and they exchanged a knowing glance. Dāśa-rāja turned his gaze back to Satya-vatī. “Very good, my dear. Your name is Satya-vatī, the truthful one. Never did you break your promise, nor have you spoken a lie. And now that you are sworn to marry only with our blessings, we will give those blessings as soon as this mighty king agrees to a simple condition.”
“Condition? What are you talking about, Father?”
“I mean this,” he said with a sudden proud, almost haughty, air. “By Dharma, it is my duty to see that you marry properly. And what could be more proper than to marry a great Kuru lord? We are much honored by our lord’s request. However, I must place a condition on this marriage, and when that condition is met, you both shall have all my blessings.”
King Śan-tanu stared at the fisher king with surprise and suspicion. The Kuru lord’s fiery eyes unnerved the fisher king, who struggled to regain his courage. He spoke quickly, before he again lost his nerve.
“O great Kuru king,” he began, almost gasping, “like my daughter, you also speak truth, and never untruth. All the world honors you for that. So, I now ask that you promise me to accept my condition, and in return, my wife and I will give our blessings for this marriage.”
Śan-tanu then said, “I shall hear your condition, fisher king, and then decide whether I shall comply. If you ask for that which may be given, I shall give it, otherwise not.”
Śan-tanu glanced at Satya-vatī and she nodded her approval. Both knew the rules. They could only marry within the bounds of Dharma.
Satya-vatī had never seen Śan-tanu in this mood. He now spoke as a great king, not as a playful, fascinated suitor. But she dreaded her father’s words, which were not long in coming.
He spoke to Śan-tanu in a voice that combined fulsome deference with coarse conceit. “O Kuru lord, Your Majesty, I am your humble servant.”
Satya-vatī felt her stomach turning at this opening salvo, for she knew from Dāśa-rāja’s tone and manner that bad things were coming. The proud fisherman continued, “I will joyfully and gratefully give my blessings to this most glorious union, if you will only deign to grant one simple request, which, as your most obedient servant, I place before you. I beg only that a son born to you and my precious daughter — my grandson — shall be your heir, the next Kuru king. My lord, that alone is my condition.”
Satya’s heart sank. She knew that even Śan-tanu himself could not rescind his son Deva-vrata’s right to the throne, for Deva-vrata was already crown prince.
With a pained, apologetic look at Satya-vatī, Śan-tanu replied at once. “O fisher king, before I met your lovely daughter, I performed the ceremony of Yauva-rāja for my first son, Deva-vrata, born of the goddess Gaṅgā. By law, by Dharma, he is heir apparent and must inherit the Kuru throne. Even I cannot legally deny him, and even if I could, both honor and love forbid it, for I gave him my word.”
When her so-called father dashed her hopes of happiness, and in so doing put the world at risk, Satya could not contain her anger. She trained her furious eyes on her foster father and said, “How can you do this to me? Why do you ruin my life? Withdraw your condition at once, if you love me.”
Satya saw her foster father conceal the rage that rose within him when his so-called daughter thus addressed him, and in front of the Kuru king. But he could not hide it from Satya, who knew him too well. He bowed stiffly to Śan-tanu. “Forgive me, lord, but however my daughter may despise her own father, I act only with a father’s love.”
Satya saw Śan-tanu’s anger. He was twice Dāśa-rāja’s size and a legendary warrior. He could simply take her away at his will and the fisher king could do nothing. But she saw him calculating, even in his anger, and she knew that despite all his power, he would not take her under these circumstances.
He turned to Satya-vatī, and said, “Perhaps we can speak privately before I return to Hastinā-pura.”
She agreed. He then faced the fisher king with cold civility and said, “I trust you will permit us to speak in private.”
“Of course,” came the prompt reply, accompanied by another bow.
Satya-vatī and Śan-tanu walked for the last time on the riverbank of sacred Yamunā. At first, they walked in silence. Satya begged the goddess to give her strength to endure this crushing disappointment.
Śan-tanu was first to speak. “Satya-vatī, I would take you away at once, regardless of what your father said, but as you know, that might ruin my reputation and yours. We are both servants of the people, and to protect them, we must have their trust. The world would accuse me of inducing you to break your vow to those people who raised you.”
Heartbroken, Satya-vatī nodded in agreement as tears flowed down her cheeks. She said, “We live in dangerous times. If people lose faith in a Kuru king, they may be drawn away to Asuras, who will promise them anything. I understand that if we married and then revealed my royal parents, my foster parents would still create a public scandal, since they raised me. We already heard a sample of their attitude. They and their friends will shout to the world that they raised and loved me from birth, and that I swore a vow not to marry without their blessings. Looking back, I see that my foster father always resented my independent spirit. I spent over a year away with my real family. I now see how deeply the fisher king resented this. When I returned to the village a few months ago, he was especially bitter because I would not become a fisher like him, that instead of serving my foster parents, I faithfully served another couple in the Final Forest, even if they were the emperor and his wife. When I returned here after my parents departed, I could not bear this place, and my foster father certainly perceived that. All this time I was away, his resentment has been growing. I see that now. This explains his awful, stubborn interference in our marriage.”
Crestfallen, Śan-tanu agreed. “Having met Dāśa-rāja, I see that you explained well his behavior. We know how the world would react to your breaking a vow to him, or to my inducing you to do so. People will censure our callous disregard for parents who sacrificed their lives for you, and so on. We both see the inevitable scandal.”
“Yes, we do. My foster father would rouse the village, and thence it would spread far and wide, as scandal always does. The damage to your image, Śan-tanu, might be severe. It’s not fair. It’s not right. But it is real.”
After many repetitions of their unbreakable love for each other, and as many reiterations of the insuperable obstacle to their union, Satya-vatī and Śan-tanu understood that the time had come to part.
He insisted that she keep the horse he secured for her. “I pray,” he said, “it will always remind you of our happy times together.”
She swore that it would. Through a veil of tears, Satya-vatī watched the man she loved ride away toward Hastinā-pura. He turned several times to wave until the forest enveloped him, and she could see him no more. Too disturbed to speak with anyone, too depressed for any duty, she fled to her personal island and mourned the loss of Śan-tanu.
CHAPTER 25
She returned to the village in the dark of evening, desperate to avoid conversation with anyone. She heard a sound behind her and turned to see her foster parents approaching cautiously but steadily. She knew them well. They were determined to justify their actions before her.
Seeing them approach so confidently, Satya was disturbed beyond measure. Unable to control her anger, born of frustration, Satya-vatī shouted at the fisher king, “Why did you do this to me? Why did you ruin my life?”
“You don’t know what is best for you. You’ve never known that. But I know.”
“Absurd!” Satya shouted. “You don’t know the harm you’ve caused to the world and to me!”
“What nonsense are you saying? What harm to the world?”
“You said strange animals have attacked sages. What if the animals are actually Asuras? Śan-tanu’s son was born of a Devī. The Kurus and the world need him to rule. I am a human being. He is half Deva. His sons must be more powerful than mine.”
These words startled the fisher king, but just for a moment. “That is all your imagination! Asura animals! No one has heard of such a thing. I acted for the best. You think I’m a nobody. But a very wise prince advised me. He came all the way here from a great kingdom to the east, one that is equal to the Kurus or anyone else. He came just to warn me. And he treated me like a king; he respected me! He revealed to me — most confidentially, of course, so don’t tell anyone — that he has agents, spies everywhere, and that he knew a king would seek your hand in marriage. But this prince swore it was a trap, that the king who sought your hand, and his son, would mistreat and enslave you, and your future sons.”
Satya’s heart stopped with dread. “That is utter nonsense,” she gasped. “Tell me, from what kingdom did that prince come?”
“Why do you care, Satya? Nothing I do matters to you.”
“Father!” she cried, shocking Dāśa-rāja with her vehemence. “Tell me which prince came to you. Who was he? What did he tell you?”
Angry himself, the fisher king raised his voice. “He came from Magadha, and he said his name was Jarā-sandha.”
“Oh my God!” Satya shouted. “Oh my God!”
“What is the matter with you?” Dāśa-rāja asked. “You should be proud that a great prince came all the way from Magadha to visit me. At least he respects me, even if my own daughter doesn’t. He told me a mighty king would come here, seeking my daughter’s hand, but that I should not consent unless the king swore that your son — your son, Satya-vatī — would be king. You saw that Śan-tanu couldn’t promise that, even if he wanted to. His first son, Deva-vrata, will become king. Don’t you see that? What will happen to you and my grandsons?”
“I’m sure Deva-vrata will be an excellent king,” Satya shouted. “And he would have treated us very well.”
“How can you be so naive?” Dāśa-rāja shouted. “Didn’t you learn anything about politics when you spent all that time with the Cedi lords? Kings are jealous of their power. Since time began, a queen wants to see her son on the throne, not a stepson. Of course, your mother and I know that you would never plot against your own stepson. But your stepson will fear you. He must fear you, and his only safety will be to kill your son before he can grow up. Kill him, and seize his throne.”
Satya flew into a rage. “What are you talking about? This is sheer madness! Did that demonic prince fill your mind with this poison?”
Dāśa-rāja had never seen such fury in his daughter. Unknown to him, she had strong warrior blood, toughened even further by the Devas for her special mission. He tried to calm her. But he was a very stubborn, unbending man. Seeing he could not console her, he grew impatient and insisted, “Say what you will. Śan-tanu’s son will fear your sons and he will eliminate them. That’s the danger of second marriages. I won’t allow you to endanger my grandsons. If you are too good for us here, then marry a prince or king, but with no other heirs. That is my decision.”
“So,” she said angrily, “you must think there is a list of kings and princes seeking to marry me. That is nonsense! It was only Śan-tanu that wanted me, and you destroyed all my hopes.”
Satya’s heart beat rapidly. In anger she turned to Jarā-sandha, for whom she could not hide her contempt. “That prince, Jarā-sandha, is not a good man. He has no good intentions.”
The fisher king made a puffing sound to show his disdain for her words. “You are wrong. He is a very nice prince. Why, his father is the great Bṛhad-ratha, son of Vasu, whom you so admired, indeed, whom you served so faithfully, when you should have served your own father. I thought you admired Bṛhad-ratha.”
“I do, but the Magadha king does not hold his son Jarā-sandha in high esteem. I will appeal to Bṛhad-ratha, and he will tell you.”
“Too late. I gave my word. You will not taint my honor again. You made us a laughingstock in our own village. Do you know that? You destroyed our hopes that you would stay with us.”
His wife glanced plaintively at Satya. “Dāśa, don’t be so hard on the girl. Satya, we love you, but you’ve humiliated your father long enough. He is only thinking of what’s best for you. That Prince Jarā-sandha was kind enough to say that the world is a dangerous place. ‘Your daughter will be safe only here, under your care.’ He said those words himself.”
Satya-vatī understood. Jarā-sandha had discovered her identity and conveyed a clear threat to her, one that her parents could never grasp or believe. If she left the region of this village, he might attack her. Jarā-sandha knew that Satya-vatī’s marriage to Śan-tanu would forge a Kuru-Cedi alliance that would threaten the Asura mission. So, he took steps to block the marriage.
Desperate to be alone, to think, Satya excused herself as well as she could and flew to her boat. She raced to the island where her son was born, sat against an ancient tree, and brooded over her situation. She was not safe. She must find a way to send word to Matsya and her other brothers. But how could she reach them? The hot summer had begun and few travelers went down the river. Satya-vatī was trapped. She could flee to Śukti-matī, but she might only endanger her brothers and bring the Asura wrath upon them.
She thought of sending a message to Śan-tanu himself, but gave up the idea. He could not send Kuru troops to Cedi without provoking a dangerous international situation and possibly ruining any chance of a future Kuru-Cedi alliance. Satya had not given up all hope that her love would be fulfilled, along with the alliance.
She had her horse, whom she named Vāyu-ja, Born of the Wind, and a little boat. Perhaps she could find shelter in Hastinā-pura. No, the humiliation of going there and being rejected (a real possibility) would be far worse than death.
Under a bright full moon, she stayed for an hour on her secluded isle, and the next day rode Vāyu-ja deep into the woods. She avoided the brāhmaṇa village, fearing that she might bring the Asuras there.
She thought of calling her son, Dvaipāyana, but this might place him in danger. If Jarā-sandha knew her identity, he probably also knew of the young Avatāra. Indeed, the Asura’s plan might be to induce or pressure her to summon the Avatāra, to thus draw him into a trap and attack him. She could not risk that now.
She thought of praying for Parā-śara to return. His image in her mind reassured her. He foretold her marriage to a great king. But he had not given her a means to call him. He might not even be in this universe. She knew that his promise would come true only if she did not die now at the hands of her nephew Jarā-sandha, or his agents.
The mighty Asura himself came all the way to her village to sabotage her marriage to Śan-tanu. He and his Asura agents might appear anywhere. She must ever be on guard. But how could she defend herself? If only her foster father could grasp the danger he put her in. In his misguided attempt to promote what he perceived to be the family interest, he had deprived her of her true protector, Śan-tanu, and placed her in great danger.
Another danger presented itself. Several minutes after the mighty Kuru king departed, Dāśa-rāja suddenly realized what he had done. He had refused his daughter’s hand to the most powerful man in the world, and in doing so, had clearly implied that Śan-tanu’s first son, Deva-vrata, was not to be trusted, or worse, was potentially evil. The fisher king now realized to his horror that he had deeply insulted the most powerful man on Earth, a man who could quite easily arrange the fisherman’s death.
