THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

a smooth slab of rock beside the Yamuna and dipping her feet in the midnight-blue water, was a young woman so fragile and beautiful it was hard to imagine how she was here in this wilderness. As Shantanu went nearer, desire woken in him by now, he realized that the irresistible heavenly scent was the fragrance of the young woman’s dark body.
    Some years ago another man had found the same young woman, much as she sat today and the Rishi Parashara had also been overcome; though then she did not smell of heaven but of very earthy fish.
    Now Shantanu stood right behind the young woman, whose name was Satyavati. He whispered, “Who are you?”
    She looked up at him and turned her eyes down quickly from what she saw in his gaze. The king felt faint now that he was so near her. Shantanu said again, “Who are you, lovely one? I am Shantanu, king of the Kurus and I want you for my wife.”
    She did not seem surprised. Her eyes still turned down to the boat tied to the rock on which she sat, she said huskily, “My name is Satyavati and my father is the king of the fishermen on the river. I ply this boat across the Yamuna as a ferry.”
    He saw in her eyes that she was pleased with the idea of being his queen; though he doubted she knew a thing of what it would entail.
    “Where is your father?” he cried impatiently.
    She turned lissomly and pointed. He was loth to leave her for even a moment. But bending quickly to caress her cheek, he tore himself away and strode across to the fisherman’s hut.
    Inside, the old fisher-king, black, with unkempt locks hanging to his shoulders, sat hunched over his midday meal, savoring the fish his daughter had smoked for him on a spit. Deftly, he separated the flesh from the skeleton so no morsel fell on the ground. Without rising, the fisherman peered at his obviously noble visitor and waited for him to speak first.
    Shantanu was in a hurry and said, “I am Shantanu, king of the Kurus of Hastinapura. When I was hunting along the river, a scent like I had never smelt before swept over me. I followed it and found it came from a young woman. She says she is your daughter. Fisherman, I have come to ask you for her hand.”
    The fisher-king did not rise even when Shantanu said who he was. He merely listened, all the while taking the flaky flesh off the big fish’s bones, with stained teeth. He squinted shrewdly at the king, then got up and went out to wash his hands. When he returned, he folded his palms to Shantanu. “Lord of the House of Soma Deva, my daughter could never hope to find a husband like you. I am happy to give her to you to be your queen.”
    Shantanu gave a shout of delight. But the fisherman stopped him with a look from heavy eyes and said, “However, there is one condition I must impose, my lord, before she becomes yours.”
    “What?” cried Shantanu, certain he could easily satisfy any greed for wealth this crude fellow might have, even in his dreams.
    Wiping his hands carefully on a square of rough cloth, the fisherman said, “A rishi told me that one day my daughter’s son would be king of all these lands.” The man’s eyes shone with that prophecy he had cherished so long. “You can have my Satyavati, if you give me your word that her son will be king after you.”
    Shantanu gasped. What would become of Devavrata if he agreed to this man’s condition, as he so frantically wanted to? In his mind he saw his son’s face. He saw Ganga’s face; he heard her say to him, “Here is your son, Shantanu. He is a kshatriya, take him with you to your kingdom of heroes.”
    The day of Devavrata’s investiture as yuvaraja rose before his eyes. Yet the fisher-girl’s unearthly scent made his heart falter. Without a word and with an effort that took all his strength and all his love for his son, Shantanu turned and walked out of the hut without committing himself to the fisherman.
    He wrenched his treacherous gaze back from where it strayed wretchedly to the girl, who still