My new book Mahabharata: The Eternal Quest reads like you're watching a movie and begins with short scenes in rapid succession to introduce many of the characters, to foreshadow events and to gradually set up the main storyline. This continues throughout the first and second chapters. The first seven or so pages conclude with this second installment.
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Check out the reviews and project at
Chapter
1
The Vow
“Your sons and their forces are ready,” Sanjaya told the blind king.
“As ready as they’ll ever be.”
King Dhritarastra listened with both expectancy and regret,
hovering in a world of his own, molded of past and future. If only he had
listened to Vidura, it would not have come to this. He feared for his sons, the Kauravas. What would happen to them now? If he could,
he would make Duryodhan give back all the land he had taken from the Pandavas.
But of all his sons, Duryodhan had always been beyond his control. Surely,
Providence would now have its way.
Sanjaya, the king’s aid and confidant, sat in the royal palace at
Hastinapura by his side. Though
Sanjaya’s gaze was drawn within, he looked far beyond the city’s streets and
walls. With Vyasa’s gift of mystic vision, he beheld the valley of Kurukshetra
over a hundred miles away. There, as the two armies prepared for battle, Sanjaya
could observe every aspect and scan every detail. He could hear any
conversation and even know someone’s thoughts.
“This is quite unusual,” Sanjaya continued, and he paused in
disbelief.
Dhritarastra impatiently stamped his jeweled cane for
attention. “What is it?” He insisted on
knowing.
“Yudhisthira has stepped
off his chariot. He proceeds across the valley on foot and unarmed toward your
sons.”
“Unarmed? Does he mean to
seek a truce or to surrender?” Dhritarastra
inquired. His mind hoped against hope. Could there still be time for
reconciliation, for peace?
The morning air was crisp. Yudhisthira, the eldest of the
Pandavas, walked toward the expanse of Kaurava warriors and their allies. The
army Yudhisthira beheld far outnumbered his own. In the distant ranks, amid his sworn enemies,
he spied Bhismadev’s splendid chariot, decorated with many weapons. He headed straight
for it. Bhismadev was the respected Grandsire of the dynasty, the eldest and
wisest. He was also Yudhisthira’s ever well-wisher and like a father to him.
Even now Bhismadev observed the solitary figure with pride. Yudhisthira took
each step with such ease and grace. Bhismadev knew the last thing Yudhisthira
wanted was this fight.
Bhismadev was surrounded by men impatient for battle, for blood
and glory, for the sweet taste of victory.
Duryodhan, Dushasana, Karna, Sakuni, and Ashwattama. They had waited
years for this moment. The horses drawing
their chariots whinnied in anticipation. The nobles snickered upon seeing
Yudhisthira approach. Maybe this would be easier than they thought. Had
Yudhisthira lost his nerve when he saw the sight of their intimidating forces?
After all, he had retreated to the forest to spend thirteen years in exile without
a word of complaint.
Bhismadev’s mind drifted
away from the moment at hand and settled into the past. How had he let it come
to this, a civil war that would rip apart this exalted Kuru dynasty? It was the
one thing he sought all his life to avoid. His mind wandered back to his youth,
and to his father, King Santanu.
*
* * * *
Santanu followed the maiden from the river to the far end of the
village. She was of slender waist and golden skin, but above all, a remarkable
fragrance emanated from her being.
Santanu could not take his eyes off her. Actually, he could have closed
his eyes and followed her just by her enchanting scent. He would do anything to have her as his wife.
She looked back at the king riding upon his silver-encrusted chariot. She
welcomed his unmoving gaze. This was the man and the world she would have. She
smiled at Santanu and entered the house of her father, the chief of the
fishermen.
*
* * * *
King Santanu returned from his trip markedly sullen. No matter how
much he tried, he could not hide his mood from his son. He was pensive for days
afterwards. Time and again, Bhismadev tried to find out what weighed upon his
father’s mind. But Santanu only looked down and remained silent to all of his
inquiries. Santanu loved his son. Bhismadev was the only surviving child born
of Santanu and the goddess Ganga – the Ganges River personified. In his
childhood, Bhismadev received his education and training from the Celestials,
and especially from the sage Vasistha, in the heavenly regions from where Ganga
had come. After his multifaceted education, Ganga brought the boy back to Earth
to reside with his father. All the citizens knew this boy as Gangadatta – Son
of Ganga – and they considered him the most blessed and fortunate person to
walk the earth.
The king was unabashedly proud of Bhismadev and he continued to
groom the youth with utmost care to become the future lord of the Kuru
dynasty. In turn, Bhismadev loved his
father, and as a faithful son, he would do anything and go to any length to
ensure his father’s happiness.
Bhismadev privately questioned the king’s chariot driver about his
recent excursions. When he informed the youth the king had lingered at the
village of the fishermen, Bhismadev hastily proceeded there.
*
* * * *
“Yes, your father came here seeking the hand of my daughter,
Satyavati, in marriage,” explained the fisherman curtly. He eyed the young man
suspiciously. Had he come to make trouble for him and the village?
After a moment of strained silence, Bhismadev inquired further.
“And what happened?”
“I told your father, the king, my terms for marriage.” The
fisherman paused again to gauge the youth’s response and continued. “He can
marry my daughter with the condition that her children must ascend to the
throne and inherit the kingdom.”
Bhismadev had not expected something like this, but now he
understood the reason for his father’s despondency. He considered the proposal
and what it meant to the well-being of his father.
“If that’s all you’re worried about,” he said rather nonchalantly,
“I promise you here and now, and I will swear it before anyone you wish to
bring forth as witnesses, that I relinquish all rights to the royal throne.”
“This is indeed a generous
offer,” said the fisherman, “but it is
not enough.”
“Not enough!” Bhismadev’s voice trembled with anger.
The fisherman continued cautiously. “Please. Let me explain.
You’re a handsome and courageous young man. In due course, you’ll marry a woman
worthy of you. In the future, you’ll have children, and when they grow up, your
children will become envious of my daughter’s children. Your children will
certainly feel they have been cheated out of a throne that is rightfully
theirs. Their enmity would rip apart the dynasty and lead to a war that would
only threaten to destroy this great kingdom.”
Understanding the human condition even in his youth, Bhismadev
conceded, “It’s a point well made. Therefore, for the sake of my father’s
happiness, and to preserve peace in the future, I make a vow to never marry and
to never have children. I make a vow of lifelong celibacy.”
When Bhismadev spoke these words, a thunderous applause was heard
from the heavens and flower petals fell from the sky. The Celestials were
amazed one of their own would make such a vow.
When Bhismadev returned home with his father’s bride, Santanu was
overwhelmed with happiness. The king was so grateful toward his son, he
summoned all the power at his command to give Bhismadev a supreme benediction:
he could choose the moment of his death.
