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

dangled her feet in the blue river, now humming a snatch of song as sweet as the scent of her. Shantanu trembled. He dragged himself to his chariot and cried to his charioteer to ride home to Hastina, to go like the wind. But the fire Satyavati had kindled in his blood raged on.

FIVE A SOLEMN VOW  
    Shantanu was a changed man after his encounter with Satyavati. He became morose and moody and hardly saw even Devavrata anymore. At first his son was pained. Once his father doted on him. He wanted him at his side always and spoke endlessly with his prince about anything under the sun he cared to, from the shapes of the clouds in the sky to the affairs of the kingdom Devavrata would inherit one day. Shantanu had been so happy with his son, every day of four wonderful years. But now he did not care to even meet him. Feigning tiredness or illness, the king turned Devavrata away when he came to see him. Or he said he was too sleepy tonight; they would speak tomorrow: which never came.
    Devavrata guessed that something had happened to his father the last time he went hunting. After he saw Satyavati, Shantanu not only became dejected he gave up the hunt. Soon Devavrata was more concerned for the king’s health than hurt at his distant behavior. But knowing his father’s nature as he did, he was sure it would not be long before Shantanu confided in him. He was not mistaken.
    One day the king sent for him. Even as Devavrata entered his chamber, his father fetched a sigh.
    The youth said, “Some terrible grief consumes you, but you will tell no one what it is.”
    Avoiding his son’s eyes, Shantanu said, “It is the burden I must bear as a king, the anxiety that feeds on my very life.”
    “What is it, father? Won’t you speak plainly to me?”
    “Oh my child, you mean more than a hundred sons to me. But the wise say that having just one son is like having one eye to see with. If you lose it, you are blind.
    You are a kshatriya, by both your birth and your gifts. And kshatriyas must satisfy themselves with wars. Who knows what happens during any war: who lives or dies, or who is killed by a cunning arrow through his back? These are dark times and if, God forbid, something happens to you Devavrata, the kingdom will be without an heir. I cannot bear to think of it—that our bloodline will not be continued from father to son, as it has since time began; and some usurper will sit upon the throne of Hastinapura.”
    The father cast a canny look at his son, “Devavrata, I am full of fear when I think that you are an only child. Kuru was seventh in the line of Bharata himself; it is after him that our branch of the Paurava tree is named. The thought that our royal lineage may be broken robs me of my peace.”
    Devavrata stood quiet, suspecting the truth, waiting for his father to come out with it. Shantanu gazed outside through a lofty palace window. He said in a low voice, “Of course, I shouldn’t like you to think I want another woman. I am only anxious for the kingdom. If an outsider takes our throne, that will be an end to everything, why, of Bharatavarsha herself. Perhaps in kali yuga such a thing may happen, but not now.”
    Suddenly Devavrata knew what he must do. He cried, “It will not, my lord! Give me leave.” Bowing quickly, he strode out of the king’s apartment. He knew what ailed Shantanu: it was that old and mighty illness, love.
    The prince sought out the sarathy who had last taken Shantanu hunting and came unannounced into his home. Briskly the yuvaraja said, “My friend, I have a question the king would like you to answer honestly. Where did my father go the last time you took him hunting and whom did he meet?”
    The old man smiled. A gleam in his eye, he said, “Are you sure, my prince, that your father would have me answer this?”
    “It is imperative you do. The king has not been himself since that day, but languishes from some deep sorrow.”
    Still the man hesitated. Devavrata aimed a shaft in the