Great Bharata, Volume I, page 25
Satya-vatī protested against this, but her father insisted that people would laugh at them in that sophisticated city. “Hastinā-pura is even grander than our Cedi capital. This village is our home. Forgive us.”
Having no wish to dissuade them, Satya quietly acquiesced. She had one last request. She begged her foster parents not to speak to anyone outside the village about her marriage, and to order the other village residents to follow the same rule. It was extremely important to Satya-vatī that her dear brothers hear about this first from her, and not from public rumor and gossip. Satya-vatī had no way, at present, to communicate with them. The Kurus would find it suspicious if she requested that Kuru envoys communicate to the Cedi rulers before the official Kuru announcements of the event. Generally, the Kurus would take offense at a fisherman and his cohort usurping the right of the Kurus to make the marriage public. Even more troubling, Śan-tanu had not yet agreed to his son’s arrangement on his behalf. Śan-tanu had made it clear that Deva-vrata’s ascension to the throne was a condition of their marriage. Now that condition had been irrevocably violated. This filled Satya-vatī with dread.
Further, possible Kuru displeasure with the prince’s arrangement would be seriously exacerbated if the Kurus discovered that news of a wedding, not yet agreed to by their king, was being spread around the world from a fishing village.
Thus, it was imperative that news not yet spread around the world of her upcoming marriage. Her foster parents saw no harm in letting the fishers talk about the wedding, and thus letting the news spread. Dāśa-rāja was anxious to bask in the prestige of a royal connection.
But Satya-vatī insisted so vehemently that he must wait until the Kurus announced the event, and that this was the necessary etiquette, that he finally agreed to this rule. Satya had no idea how strenuously he would enforce it.
It was time to leave. Her foster parents blessed her, and prayed to the Devas to bless her. Dāśa-rāja said, “Remember us now and then, and kindly forgive our mistakes.”
In reply, Satya-vatī said all the right things, and bowed to them. Within minutes, she was amazed to find herself sitting in a royal Kuru carriage, resplendent with the colors and crest of the mighty dynasty. She was headed to the grandest of earthly cities, though not without considerable anxiety.
Counselor Śarma sat facing her. Bhīṣma, heavily armed, rode by their side. Satya’s horse, Vāyu-ja, trotted behind them. With a shout from a cavalry commander, a Kuru platoon, with perfect precision, surrounded the carriage. As its wheels began to turn, all the fishing community cheered, and begged the Devas to bless the trip. The journey to Hastinā-pura had begun.
When they were well beyond the Kalpi area, Counselor Śarma said, “We are sending royal messengers to inform kingdoms along the way of our coming, and to carry the prince’s personal message to his father. Is there anyone to whom we can send a message from you?”
This question reminded her that she must communicate all the recent events to her brothers. But how? Messages were only sent by spoken word, through messengers with prodigious memories. She believed that royal Kuru messengers were most discreet, yet she could not bring herself to reveal to a herald, or even to her brothers, the mortifying situation in which she found herself. She was traveling to Hastinā-pura, perhaps to be humiliated on an unprecedented global scale, if Śan-tanu rejected her. How could he form an alliance with a family whose elders had ruined his son’s life?
Only if and when accepted by, and properly betrothed to, Śan-tanu, who had not yet accepted her under these new circumstances, could she reveal everything to her brothers. Even if a rumor about this affair reached them, by that time, she would have arrived in the Kuru land, and she would know Śan-tanu’s decision. She would then have ample time to explain everything to her brothers.
“Thank you for your kind offer,” she replied to Śarma, “but at this time I have no message to send.”
Śarma then asked sincerely if the Kurus could do anything to make her travel more pleasant, less wearisome or anxious. Satya-vatī thanked him, praising the kindness of her hosts. She had all she could possibly need or desire.
Śarma then explained that their initial route would take them northwest along the Yamunā River. They would stop that night precisely at the point where their path turned to the north, away from the river. Both Śarma and Deva-vrata were anxious to afford Satya a last evening on the bank of the river, since they had heard from the king that she was devoted to Yamunā. This genuine concern for her feelings moved her.
Śarma added that when they stopped, he and the prince wanted to explain to her some important details of their trip. Satya-vatī nodded, wondering anxiously what the important details could be.
As the party moved northwest along the silvery banks of Yamunā, the rhythmic clack of steady-stepping horses gave a sweet cadence to their journey. Delightful views surrounded them, but Satya saw little of it. Worries and dangers consumed her thoughts.
They traveled for several hours, stopping to make camp along the sacred river, under a moonlit sky brimming with bright stars. Satya-vatī stepped out of the carriage and stretched. She went down to the river and splashed refreshing, clear water on her face.
The prince approached and invited her to dine with him and the counselor. She graciously accepted, wondering when they would talk about important details.
After a healthy, delicious meal with light conversation, the prince began the serious topics. “Our route will take us through the powerful Pañcāla kingdom that borders the Kurus on our southeast flank.”
Satya looked surprised. “The Pañcālas are traditional rivals of the Kurus. Is the best route to travel through their country?”
Bhīṣma nodded. “Yes, it is. After much work, my father recently forged an alliance with the Pañcāla king, Somaka. And now, we must strengthen that alliance by a state visit, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not! That is excellent news!” Satya-vatī cried. Pañcāla was an ally of Cedi, loyal to Vasu. She sincerely praised Pañcāla’s alliance with the Kurus, but also worried if this would weaken in any way the alliance with Cedi. What did her brothers think? Surely, they knew all about this.
But she said the right things to Deva-vrata. “I congratulate your father on this alliance. The Pañcālas are a key political and military power. I confess that I did not fully appreciate your father’s efforts to forge alliances.”
The prince smiled. “The king told me about his talks with you, and how your astute arguments influenced him.”
“Some of my arguments, perhaps,” Satya said with a slight blush. “I did express some views rather imprudently, if not impudently.”
The two men laughed and assured her that Śan-tanu thought highly of her perspicacity. “We hope,” the counselor said, “that you will not mind the short delay occasioned by our visit to Pañcāla.”
“Not at all,” Satya said. “I see that policy and protocol require this visit to King Somaka. The age-old rivalry of the Kurus and Pañcālas, alternating between conflict and alliance, is well known. Somaka is a most valuable ally, who must be kept satisfied. So, yes! Let us visit Pañcāla.”
The prince and his counselor exchanged smiles of appreciation. The prince thanked her and praised her insight into political affairs.
“On my way here,” he added, “on the plea of an urgent affair, I bypassed Pañcāla. I cannot bypass Pañcāla twice without offending its proud ruler and arousing his suspicion. And given the delicate state of the new Kuru-Pañcāla alliance, we must stop.”
Satya understood. Deva-vrata had charged down to Kalpi to save his father’s heart. He had not thought of international diplomacy. But now he must think of it, or the very father he strove to please would be disturbed by a threat to his new alliance.
“I look forward to our visit,” Satya said emphatically, intrigued by this opportunity to participate in strategic diplomacy, following her parents’ example. This visit would also furnish her the opportunity to survey Pañcāla’s loyalty to Cedi.
But a most delicate concern worried her, and she could not avoid expressing it. “I welcome the Kuru alliance with Pañcāla. But does Śan-tanu know with absolute certainty that King Somaka is devoted to the cause of the Devas?”
“You raise a crucial concern,” Śarma said gravely. “Our king is indeed convinced that King Somaka is not an Asura, or a friend of the Asuras. As you know, the Kuru king spent his last life in the Deva world, and he retains his friendship with the Devas. So, with his own superior power of perception, and in consultation with the Devas, he has confirmed that King Somaka is a man to be trusted. Hence, he proceeded with the alliance. Still, your caution and concern do you credit.”
Glancing at Śarma, who nodded, the prince said, “Forgive me, but there is one last matter we must discuss.”
Satya-vatī urged him to speak. He did. “As you know, our king worked hard to form an alliance with King Somaka of Pañcāla to strengthen our defense against the Asuras. We know King Somaka. He is cautious, even suspicious, by nature, and he will demand to know precisely whom the Kuru king will marry. His disapproval could ruin the alliance. Forgive us for this indelicacy, but my father revealed only that you come from royal blood, but that he was not at liberty to say more. We know that Somaka will insist on knowing precisely who you are, who your family is. He will then calculate all the political and military ramifications of your marriage to Śan-tanu, his new ally. He must know that you are fully determined to oppose the Asura invasion, which, according to my father, you are aware of. One day, your son will be the Kuru king and thus an ally of Somaka’s own son. Thus, your identity is crucial to Somaka, his sons, and his kingdom. Dear Satya-vatī, what shall we say to King Somaka, when we see him tomorrow and he inquires about your identity?”
Startled, trying to keep her composure, Satya-vatī silently rebuked herself for not anticipating this inevitable obstacle. Now, she must answer. But what could she say? She would never endanger her son, Vyāsa, by revealing his identity. But if she did not reveal her identity, she might destroy a crucial alliance and thus endanger the world.
The prince and counselor watched and waited. Satya could find no words to speak. Tension mounted in painful silence. She could bring her son this moment and reveal the truth. But no! The Kurus would see as duplicity her long concealment of her son. She would lose their trust.
Yet she must say something. But what? Suddenly, a tiger roared in the night. With blurring speed, twenty Kuru warriors pulled twenty razor-edged swords from their sheaths. Ten of them instantly formed a protective circle around Satya-vatī and the counselor. Ten more ran toward the tiger, their weapons gleaming in the moonlight.
“Excuse me, Your Highness,” the prince said to Satya. “The tiger may be an Asura, so I will join my men and take a look.”
Deva-vrata’s muscles bulged to frightening dimensions as he drew out his sword and followed his men. The tiger gave a defiant roar and fled, his sound trailing, then vanishing into the night.
When the prince returned, Satya-vatī thanked him and his men for protecting her. With a sudden, canny thought, she said, “I’m afraid the tiger unsettled me. Please, let me retire for the evening and rest. In the morning, before we leave, I will tell you exactly who I am.”
Finding this request quite reasonable, and truly concerned for her peace and rest, Deva-vrata and Śarma readily agreed. They had a comfortable tent and bed arranged for her, and urged her not to worry. Formidable Kuru guards would protect her through the night.
Satya-vatī thanked her hosts and explained that she always prayed to Yamunā before sleeping, and she would do that now. The guards kept a respectful distance, as Satya walked to Yamunā’s silver, sandy shore. As silver moonlight danced on the river’s endless, undulating currents, Satya-vatī, in desperate anxiety, knelt in fervent prayer. All could be lost if she did not reveal her identity, or if she did.
The goddess promised her aid. Satya bowed to Yamunā and sat by her waters, trembling in anxious expectation. She felt a presence by her side. She turned and was startled to see the great sage Parā-śara, father of her child, sitting beside her, just as he did in Kalpi.
CHAPTER 29
Satya gasped, clasped her hands, and bowed to the sage. He bowed in return, and gazed at her with deep concern. “Dear Satya-vatī,” he began, “no one but you can see me. But speak softly, lest the guards hear you.”
“Of course. Thank you so much for coming.”
Parā-śara smiled. “I come with joyous news that will solve the predicament of your identity.”
Satya’s wide eyes shouted her eagerness to hear the good news. Parā-śara did not keep her waiting. “Satya, our son, Dvaipāyana, has developed his full powers. The Asuras cannot harm him! The world is about to learn that an Avatāra has come!”
Satya made a muffled cry of joy, pressed her hands to her heart and wept. Her son was safe! She gave ardent thanks to Viṣṇu, and to Parā-śara for bringing this ecstatic news. She cried out in a whisper, “Our son is safe! He is safe!”
“Yes, Viṣṇu protected him.”
“Yes! And Śan-tanu and his son will protect me. So, I can reveal myself. But how will I explain the past — that my parents concealed my identity? Parā-śara, I still cannot tell the Kurus about our son. I confess that my attachment to Śan-tanu is strong, and the world needs a Kuru-Cedi alliance. Śan-tanu also had a previous union, and child, so he could hardly fault me, especially when I acted within a divine mission. Yet, even if Śan-tanu would accept me, the citizens might not.”
“Very true,” Parā-śara said. “We know that society is often neither rational nor fair in such matters.”
“And we have no time to reform society,” Satya said.
“No, we certainly don’t.”
“It pains me to deceive Śan-tanu, but for a higher cause, I must. And you agree, Parā-śara?”
“I do. There is far too much at stake. Everything is at stake, the three worlds. Future generations will know how you gave birth to an Avatāra, and they will celebrate you. But now is not the time.”
“Then how will Bhīṣma and Śarma present me to King Somaka? How will I explain a lifetime incognito?”
Parā-śara smiled. “Satya-vatī, you are brilliant in matters of state. What do you suggest?”
Satya smiled at his compliment. “I will speak the truth, as far as I can. Lord Indra personally chose me to participate in a vital mission to stop the Asuras. He then decreed that for this mission, I must live incognito in my childhood. The Kurus will assume that mission to be a marriage to Śan-tanu. But will they believe me?”
Parā-śara smiled. “Yes, they will. As you said, your words are true, even if others misinterpret them.”
With great relief and confidence, and seeing no better solution to a critical situation, Satya thanked Parā-śara from her heart. He thanked her in turn, and said, “I know that you long to see your son, so before I go, I will show you how well he is doing.
They sat by the Yamunā, as they did in Kalpi. Eyes closed, Satya fixed her mind on Parā-śara’s words. They carried her high up in the Himālaya, where the Devī of wisdom, Sarasvatī, sends her crystalline river water flowing down to the plains. On the river’s western bank, in a grove of jujube trees dotted with bright red fruit, lay a hermitage called Śamyā-prāsa, for it extended as far as a strong man could hurl a staff.
There sat the young Avatāra, Dvaipāyana, facing east over the waters. His long brown locks of hair fell over his shoulders as he meditated on the arduous task of dividing and arranging the Veda. The āśrama bristled with spiritual power.
The vision vanished. Satya-vatī opened her eyes. As tears rolled down her cheeks, she thanked Parā-śara earnestly for the news and vision he brought her.
Choked up with love for her son, Satya-vatī whispered, “When will the world know that an Avatāra has come?”
Parā-śara smiled. “Very soon, I assure you.”
“Will he directly oppose the Asuras?”
Parā-śara smiled. “Those like you who know of the Asura invasion will correctly surmise that the Avatāra will help to defend Earth and the three worlds.”
With deep apprehension, Satya asked, “Will Dvaipāyana directly fight the Asuras?”
Parā-śara shook his head. “No. Fighting is not a sage’s Dharma. And Vyāsa descended to this world to teach Dharma.”
Satya-vatī sighed with relief. “Of course. Precisely.”
“Our son will prepare the way for Viṣṇu by educating all the good people of Earth. When Viṣṇu comes and acts, Dvaipāyana will then chronicle Viṣṇu’s deeds, to guide and inspire the world, and countless future generations.” Parā-śara smiled. “Your son will do something else that I hope will please you. He will tell your story, past, present, and future. By his words, you will live in history for thousands of years. All the world will celebrate you.”
Amazed, Satya-vatī thanked Parā-śara. But she had one lingering doubt. He urged her to disclose it.
“Parā-śara,” she said, “have you told me all that our son will do? Or is there even more to his mission?”
“There is more. Forgive me, Satya, but for now, I cannot reveal it. Just remember your son’s promise. When you most need help, call him in your mind, and he will come. I’m sorry I can say no more.”
Satya felt a foreboding, as if Parā-śara hinted at future trouble. But she knew that for some higher purpose, he could say no more at this time. She understood, but it made her anxious.
He now begged her leave. With mutual goodwill and affection, and knowing that they must part, the parents of an Avatāra bid each other farewell. Parā-śara vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
Satya-vatī again found herself alone on the riverbank. It was her last evening with dear Yamunā, who had watched over her since birth.
She sat silent on the riverbank, overcome with joy and worry. Above all, her son was safe, beyond the Asura reach. The counter-insurgency, led by her father for many years, had received a most important reinforcement in her son!
