THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 by Ramesh Menon Read Free Book Online Page B

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.

EIGHT BHEESHMA AND AMBA  
    A radiant Amba arrived in Shalva’s kingdom. Flushed with the thought of seeing him, of being his queen, she alighted before the palace. She ran up the steps and was shown, but after an hour’s wait, into a solemn court hardly full of the welcome she had expected.
    “My lord,” she cried happily, “I have brought your garland. I told Bheeshma I had chosen you for my husband and he sent me to you with a royal escort. Here I am, take me for your queen.”
    She was overjoyed to see him and waited for him to rise and take her hand. But he remained sunk in his throne. A spasm of contempt twitched his lean face; he gave a short laugh.
    More for his court’s benefit than hers, he said, “Do you think I am a beggar that I would take you as alms from my enemy? Bheeshma seized your hand and carried you from your swayamvara. If that