ELEVEN
Satyavati did not give up hope. When she emerged from the seclusion of mourning Vichitraveerya, she would at times summon the courage to speak to Bheeshma about an heir for Hastinapura. He was always busy with pressing affairs of the kingdom and most often contrived to avoid her.
Yet, now and then, she did manage to waylay him along one of the interminable passages of the palace. And her eyes full of tears, she would implore him again. But Bheeshma was adamant. Other nobles of the sabha, those that dared, began to broach the subject, delicately, of an heir for the Kuru throne. In the streets, the common people began to ask what he had done to ensure the kingdom had an heir.
Early one morning, as the sun was rising and the birds all sang, Bheeshma was returning to the palace from the bathing-tank, when Satyavati accosted him yet again. Today he did not avoid her, but said with a smile, "I think I have the cure for your anxiety. When I rode out to hunt yesterday, I met a rishi in the forest and he reminded me of a custom we had all forgotten."
Her eyes lit up, "What is it, my son? Will you relent?"
The smile on his craggy face grew wider. "When a royal line is in danger of becoming extinct, ancient custom allows that a brahmana may be called in to father sons on the women of the threatened house. If you can think of a worthy brahmana, mother, your fears can be laid to rest."
Satyavati cried out as if he had stabbed her. Her eyes grew blurry and she ran from him, trembling with outrage. He stood staring curiously after her; she would always remain an enigma.
Came evening and Bheeshma, regent of the Kurus, was summoned to the queen mother Satyavati's chambers. Waving away her maids, she received him alone. Making him sit beside her, she said, "I have something to confess to you, Devavrata."
He saw the struggle in her eyes. Gently he said, "If it is so hard to tell, let it be, mother."
He rose to leave, but she took his hand. And once she managed to begin, it came tumbling out of her: her old secret. It was the tale of the Rishi Parashara and how, long ago beside the midnight-blue Yamuna, he had taken a mad fancy to a slip of a girl who smelled, in those days, not of heaven but of fish.
She stammered, she flushed and kept her face turned from him. But she managed to tell her story, ending with how Parashara blessed her. She had her virginity back, kept the new fragrance of her body and she bore a rishi for a son: Vyasa the poet, who was born on an island in the river as soon as she conceived him. He was full-grown in moments and illumined and said to her, "Mother, our paths lead away from each other. But if ever you need me, just think of me and I will appear before you."
And he had wandered out of her life.
When Satyavati finished her story, she sat shyly before Bheeshma, her eyes turned from him. She knew how much he had sacrificed for her sake and feared his anger when he discovered his father had not been the first man in her life. But then, Bheeshma had always suspected the truth.
After a moment's silence, he took her hand kindly. When she saw he was not angry, she burst out with, "Devavrata, if you really meant what you said to me this morning, I will call my son Vyasa to sire the heirs of Kuru on Ambika and Ambalika."
Bheeshma greeted this imperturbably. "So be it, mother. I am adamant and, after all, the Muni Vyasa is your son. Summon him if the queens are ready to receive him."
When Bheeshma left her apartment, Satyavati chanted the mantra her first child had given her, a life ago, on the island in the stream.
Hardly had she said, "Vyasa my son, I have need of you," than a spirit light appeared in that chamber. As it grew brighter, a figure became plain at its core, dark as moonless nights, wild as forest's hearts, his beard and matted jata hanging coppery to his waist. His eyes smoldered and he looked altogether fierce.
He bent at her feet to take his mother's blessing. He embraced her and said affectionately, "How wonderful to see you again! But surely, you have thought of me today for some other reason besides a mother's love?"
Satyavati told him about her life in Hastinapura. He listened gravely, never interrupting. Finally, she came out with what she wanted from him. She said that, being a brahmana and also Vichitraveerya's brother, he was the one she had chosen to beget the Kuru heirs on Ambika and Ambalika.
For just a moment, Vyasa shut his heavy eyes in dhyana. Opening them, he said, "Why, it is the very least I can do for you who gave me life. But I have seen your daughters-in-law in my mind and, mother, they are so young. Hadn't you better speak to Ambika and Ambalika first? Their husband was a handsome youth and I…" he smiled and did not finish.
"I will speak to them at once."
She did not give him a moment to change his mind, but hurried away to Ambika's apartment, where that queen lay in mourning still, like a wilted lotus.
Satyavati dismissed the maids. In a fair delirium of hope by now, she explained her mission to the young widow. She brought tears to the girl's eyes. The shock of Vichitraveerya's death still lay on Ambika like a shadow, but Satyavati was in no mood to let her refuse what she asked.
"Just one night," she told her daughter-in-law firmly. "And remember he is a great rishi, so make him welcome."
Ambika sobbed. But what was being asked of her was her dharma. Besides, she was not being asked, but told: because the future of the House of Kuru was in her hands. As she went out, Satyavati turned at the door, "By the way, he is a little fierce-looking, but he is a gentle soul."