Book I: The Dawn of Destiny
Chapter 2: The Vow of Bhishma
Years passed, and under the golden gaze of the sun, Devavrata, son of Shantanu and Ganga, grew into a being of extraordinary grace and power. The gods themselves whispered his name in reverence.
He mastered the Vedas and the sciences of arms under sages like Brihaspati and Parashurama, the warrior-sage who had conquered the world.
When he returned to Hastinapura, even the elders bowed to his wisdom, and the soldiers marveled at his strength.
King Shantanu looked upon his son with pride that filled the heavens.
"My son," he said, "you are the crown jewel of the Kuru line. With you, our kingdom shall know peace for generations."
And indeed, Hastinapura prospered.
Its streets glimmered with golden dust, its rivers sang hymns of bounty, and the people lived under the protection of a prince who was both sage and warrior.
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The River's Whisper
But destiny is a river—it never flows in one direction.
One evening, as the king wandered by the banks of the Yamuna, the same place where love had once bound him to Ganga, a soft fragrance stirred his heart again.
From a small boat gliding over the water came a maiden of mortal birth—Satyavati, daughter of a fisherman, radiant yet humble, with eyes that reflected the calm of the river itself.
At once, the king's heart was ensnared.
He approached her father, the humble chieftain of fishermen, and said,
"Ask what you wish, good man. I desire your daughter's hand in marriage."
The fisherman bowed and spoke with respectful sorrow.
"O King, my heart honors your wish. But I am a father before I am a subject. My daughter's sons must inherit your throne. Only then shall I give her to you."
The king's smile faded. "But I have already a son—Devavrata, born of Ganga. He is the rightful heir of Hastinapura. How can I break the law of dharma?"
So Shantanu returned to his palace in silence, his spirit clouded by longing and duty.
The people saw the shadow in their king's eyes, and word reached Devavrata, who loved his father more than his own breath.
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The Vow
The prince rode to the fisherman's hut, his chariot thundering like a storm.
He stepped down, his presence bright as the midday sun. The fisherman bowed low, trembling before the prince whose fame had already reached the heavens.
"Your daughter's beauty has bound my father's heart," Devavrata said. "Tell me your demand, and it shall be fulfilled."
The fisherman, though humble, spoke with courage.
"O prince, I desire only that my daughter's sons inherit the throne."
Devavrata smiled gently.
"Then hear my vow — I renounce the throne of Hastinapura for all eternity. I shall never rule, nor shall any child born of me claim this crown."
The fisherman's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Such words are heavy, my lord. The future may tempt you. You may marry, and your sons may desire the kingdom."
Then Devavrata raised his hand to the sky and declared before gods and men:
"I swear before the eternal river and the sun above — I shall never marry. I shall live a life of celibacy and serve the throne of Hastinapura till my final breath."
At that moment, thunder rolled across the heavens.
The gods showered flowers from the sky.
Voices of the celestials cried out:
"Behold, Bhishma — the man of the terrible vow!"
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King Shantanu, upon hearing what his son had done, was struck with both pride and sorrow.
He embraced Devavrata, saying,
"My son, your sacrifice is beyond mortal measure. You have bound yourself to dharma with chains of steel. I grant you a boon — you shall choose the time of your death. Until you will it, death shall never claim you."
And thus began the legend of Bhishma, the immortal guardian of Hastinapura — a man whose vow would one day ignite the greatest war of all ages.