SEVEN
The city of Kasi was festive: Manikarnika, the ornament that once fell from Cosmic Siva's ear, to be his special place on earth. Kasi was decked in colorful archways; her streets were choking with a million garlands. Singing, dancing crowds swung through her aisles.
In the hall of the swayamvara, a thousand of the most eligible kings and princes of Bharatavarsha had gathered. Each one had come in the hope that one of the princesses of Kasi would choose him to be her husband. The jewelry those kshatriyas wore caught the shafts of the morning sun and the sabha glittered. Jasmine-laden air eddied softly around those high born masters of the earth. Their refined laughter could be heard there, tinged with some anxiety.
Amba, Ambika and Ambalika were all named after the Devi who is Siva's consort. Wearing wedding finery they sat haughty and ravishing beside their father. The custom was that when the auspicious muhurta arrived and the planets were in their most benign places, the palace priests, who were avid at their ghatikas, the water clocks, would announce the hour. Each princess would then be given a garland of wildflowers, which she would drape around the prince or king she chose. It was age-old custom that a princess could choose her own husband, her vara. This was why the ceremony was called a swayamvara, meaning literally 'her own husband'.
The moment had arrived and the oldest princess, Amba, had just been handed her garland. Suddenly they heard chariot-horses' hooves outside. Silence fell when they saw who had arrived: it was Devavrata of Hastinapura. Some kshatriyas in the sabha snickered, though none too near Bheeshma.
"Has the celibate found his celibacy unbearable?"
"Isn't he a little old for this?"
"Has he decided to break his oath?"
"Who can blame the poor man? These princesses could shake the vows of the rishis of the forest."
Someone shouted, "I think you've left it a little late, Devavrata. Your hair has turned grey!"
And loud laughter. Bheeshma's eyes glinted dangerously. With a soft growl that froze the assembly, he said, "I rather think I am just in time."
Amba stood unmoving before the groom of her choice, the king of Salva. She had raised her hands to place her garland around his neck when Bheeshma arrived. Next moment, Bheeshma was a flaming immortal in that sabha. When he was just a stripling Ganga's son had dammed her flow with golden arrows; now he was a grown man at the height of his powers.
He was among them like some invasion. One moment they were mocking him and Amba was about to garland the king she had chosen. Then Bheeshma had seized not only that dazed princess but her sisters as well and swept them into his chariot in a blur.
As he went, he cried, "They are for my brother Vichitraveerya. They shall be queens in Hastinapura like their mothers before them. Come and fight me, Kshatriyas, show me your mettle."
Those were days when honor meant more than life itself. A throng of kshatriyas flew after Bheeshma. For a while it seemed he would outrun them and escape. But then he whirled his chariot round. His bow was raised and it blazed arrows at his pursuers in a storm. Every shaft found its mark, shattering chariots, piercing armor and blood leaked on to the earth.
But there was a king that one of the Kasi princesses had actually chosen and Shalva gave Bheeshma a ferocious fight. He struck him with three scathing shafts. Roaring in surprise the Kuru plucked them out and his blood gushed after them. In a flash he cut down Shalva's chariot and killed that king's horses and sarathy. Shalva stood exposed and Amba shut her eyes and prayed for his life. But Bheeshma did not intend to kill a defenseless man. Growling deep in his throat, like some lion, he swung his chariot around again and rode back to Hastinapura.
The people of the city came streaming out of their homes. They crowded into the streets to see what Bheeshma had brought back. They set up a cheer when they saw the three princesses in his chariot: bashful, but two of them so excited by the romance of having been abducted by the magnificent Kuru. They were flushed with the battle that had been fought for them; what more could any princess ask for on the day of her swayamvara?
When the people of Hastinapura welcomed them exuberantly, asking their names and calling them their queens, Ambika and Ambalika began to wave back to that sea of friendly faces. They felt thrilled to be called queens and no sooner had they ridden into it, than they knew Hastinapura was the city of their destiny. But Amba kept her head bowed.
Bheeshma thundered up to the king's palace and leapt down from his chariot. The princesses followed him meekly. He strode straight to Satyavati's apartment and knocked on her door. When she opened it, she saw him standing there with a rare smile on his face. He said, "Mother, look what I have brought for you."
"What is it, Devavrata?"
He moved aside and she saw the princesses behind him. He cried, "Daughters-in-law! Three of them from Kasi."
As they came forward to touch her feet, Satyavati saw how beautiful they were. Bheeshma said to a guard, "Take word to the king that his mother wants to see him urgently."
Vichitraveerya arrived and when he saw Amba, Ambika and Ambalika he fell at Bheeshma's feet. Bheeshma raised him up like a child and embraced him. The young king saw blood on his brother.
"You are wounded! Mother, quickly, fetch warm water and ointment."
Bheeshma protested that it was only a scratch, but the king would not listen. Luckily Bheeshma's armor had endured the brunt of Shalva's arrows. Vichitraveerya dressed his brother's wounds with the herbs his mother's women brought. When he had finished, a quivering voice said, "I beg you, give me leave to speak."
It was Amba, the oldest princess. Bheeshma said, "Speak freely child. Have no fear, this is your home now."
Mustering her courage, she said, "When the lord Bheeshma stormed into the swayamvara and took us, I was in the very act of placing my garland around king Shalva's neck. With all my heart I had chosen him to be my husband."
"Why didn't you speak out?" said Bheeshma. "You did not say a word, not even when I was fighting Salva."
She whispered, "I was robbed of my courage. And before I breathed freely again, we had ridden to Hastinapura."
Now Vichitraveerya said firmly, "It isn't right that I marry her if she has given her heart to someone else."
Bheeshma was relieved; he had hoped his brother would not make this an issue of kshatriya honor. Satyavati also agreed. Gently, Bheeshma said to Amba, "If what you say is true, you must not remain here."
He clapped his hands for the guard.
"Arrange for the princess Amba to have a royal escort. Prepare my own chariot for her and let her be driven at once to Salva."
Such a smile broke out on the lovely Amba's face that the others laughed. Blessing them all, blessing Hastinapura, seeking Satyavati's blessing herself, Amba mounted the chariot and drove away. Little did she realize how short-lived her joy was to be.