Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 4 - Adivansavatarana - Chapter 2 - Dvaipāyana’s Birth

Vaiśampāyana said:

There was once a virtuous king named Uparicara. Born of the Paurava lineage, he was also known as Pāvasu. Though devoted to righteousness, he was equally fond of the hunt and often gave himself to that pursuit.

At the command of Indra, the king conquered the beautiful and prosperous kingdom of Chedi and ruled it with justice and might.

After some time, King Uparicara renounced the use of arms and retired into seclusion. There, he began practicing severe austerities, immersing himself in penance with great discipline.

The gods, with Indra at their head, took note of his devotion and feared that he sought dominion over the heavens through his ascetic power. So they approached him together during his meditations. By speaking gently and offering praise, they succeeded in dissuading him from his austerities and turned his mind away from that path.

The gods addressed the king, saying:

“O Lord of the Earth, ensure that virtue does not decline among men. If you protect dharma, dharma in turn shall protect the entire world. This is your duty.”

Then Indra, the king of the celestials, spoke:

“O King, uphold righteousness upon the earth with vigilance and steadfastness. If you remain virtuous in action and mind, you shall attain in the afterlife many sacred and exalted realms.

Though I dwell in heaven and you upon the earth, still, you are my dear friend and cherished companion.

Now reside upon that portion of the earth which is both delightful and abundant in animal life, rich in grain and wealth, protected as if it were heaven itself, and blessed with favorable seasons and every pleasure.

O ruler of Chedi, this land of yours is filled with gems and precious stones, and great mineral wealth. Its towns and cities thrive in virtue, and the people are upright and content. They do not utter falsehoods, even in jest.”

Indra continued:

“In your realm, sons do not divide their wealth with their fathers, but instead remain ever attentive to the welfare of their parents. Cattle that are lean are never yoked to the plough, nor used to draw carts, nor made to carry goods. Instead, they are well fed and nourished.

In the land of Chedi, the four varṇas faithfully engage in their respective duties, sustaining the order of society.

Let nothing that transpires in the three worlds remain unknown to you. In recognition of your virtue and friendship, I shall bestow upon you a crystal chariot—like those used only by the celestials. It shall carry you through the mid-air, and you alone among mortals shall traverse the skies in this divine car, moving like a celestial in bodily form.

Furthermore, I shall grant you a garland of unfading lotuses, blessed and incomparable. In battle, while adorned with this garland, you shall remain unharmed by any weapon. Known on earth as Indra’s Garland, it shall serve as your mark of distinction.”

The slayer of Vṛitra, Indra, further honored King Uparicara Vasu by gifting him a bamboo pole—a symbol to protect the righteous and the peaceful.

After a year had passed, the king, in reverence to the god who had granted him such favors, planted the bamboo pole in the earth as an object of worship for Śakra himself.

From that time onward, O monarch, all kings, emulating the example set by Vasu, began to plant such poles as part of the worship of Indra. The pole would be adorned with golden cloth, garlands, fragrant perfumes, and various ornaments. With due rites, Śakra was honored through these offerings.

Then, to accept this worship, Śakra himself descended in the form of a swan, pleased by the devotion of the noble Vasu.

Beholding the auspiciousness and sincerity of the king’s worship, Śakra was delighted and spoke these words:

“Those kings and men who honor me with this festival, as the King of Chedi has done, shall receive glory and victory in their realms. Their cities shall flourish, and they shall ever prosper.”

Thus was King Vasu, the lord of the Chedis, blessed by Maghavat—the high-souled chief of the gods. Grateful and pleased, Indra honored him greatly.

Indeed, those who observe the festival of Śakra with offerings of land, gems, and precious stones are held in high esteem throughout the world.

King Vasu, upholding righteousness, bestowed generous boons, performed great sacrifices, and faithfully observed Indra’s festival. Through these acts, he won great respect from the king of the gods.

From his seat in Chedi, King Vasu ruled the entire earth with virtue and wisdom. And always, for the gratification of Indra, he continued the sacred observance of the festival in honor of the lord of heaven.

King Vasu had five sons, all endowed with great energy and immeasurable prowess. As an able emperor, he appointed each of them as governors over various provinces, entrusting them with the care of his vast dominion.

His son Vṛihadratha was installed in the kingdom of Magadha, where he came to be known as Mahāratha for his valor and strength. Another of his sons was Pratyaghāra. A third was Kusāmva, also renowned by the name Manivāhana.

The two remaining sons were Māvella and Yadu—both mighty warriors, steadfast in combat and invincible on the field of battle.

These, O monarch, were the sons of that royal sage of immense energy—King Vasu. Each of the five sons established kingdoms and cities bearing their own names, thereby planting the seeds of new lineages.

From them arose separate dynasties, firm and illustrious, which endured through the passage of long ages, shaping the history of the earth with their deeds and rule.

And when King Vasu ascended the crystal chariot—gifted to him by Indra—and soared through the skies, he was greeted by the Gandharvas and Apsaras, the celestial singers and dancers. Delighting in his radiant presence as he coursed the heavens, they gave him the name Uparichara, meaning “he who moves above.”

By his capital city flowed the river Suktimatī. One day, that sacred river was assailed by a sentient mountain named Kolahala, who, maddened by lust, attempted to violate her.

King Vasu, witnessing this unholy act from above, intervened. With a powerful stamp of his foot, he struck the mountain. At that very spot where his foot left its mark, the river, Suktimatī, was freed from Kolahala’s grasp and flowed again in her natural course.

Yet from that strange and unnatural union, the mountain begot upon the river two children—twins, a boy and a girl. In gratitude for her deliverance, Suktimatī offered the children to King Vasu.

Stolen from NovelBin, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The son, strong and capable, was appointed by Vasu as the generalissimo of his armies. The daughter, graceful and noble, was named Girikā. In time, Vasu wedded her, thus honoring the river’s gift.

After the completion of her menstrual course, Girikā, the queen, purified herself with a ritual bath and approached her husband, King Vasu. She informed him of her readiness, wishing to conceive, as was customary and sacred.

But on that very day, the Pitṛs—ancestral spirits of King Vasu—appeared before him and requested that he hunt and slay a deer for their Śrāddha, the sacred offering to the departed.

Bound by dharma and the sacred duty owed to his ancestors, the king did not refuse. Honoring their request, he set out to the forest to hunt. Yet, as he moved through the woods, his mind lingered only on Girikā—graced with beauty, noble in bearing, and radiant like the goddess Śrī herself.

It was springtime, and the forest through which King Vasu roamed had blossomed into a paradise—so enchanting it resembled the gardens of the king of the Gandharvas himself.

All around him grew the Aśoka, Campaka, Cūta, and Atimukta in abundance. There were also Puṇṇāga, Karṇikā, Vakula, Divyapātala, Pātala, Erikāla, Candana, Arjuna, and many other sacred and beautiful trees, all heavy with fragrant blossoms and sweet fruits.

The air was thick with the music of spring: the melodious notes of the kokila bird rang through the woods, and the low hum of bees intoxicated by nectar filled the air. The entire forest seemed maddened by fragrance, color, and sound.

Overcome by the influence of the season and unable to suppress his desire, the king wandered restlessly, consumed by thoughts of Girikā, though she was far from him.

In his wandering, he came upon a glorious Aśoka tree, thick with flowers and rich foliage. Seeking relief beneath its shade, he sat at ease. But the sweet breeze, the scent of blossoms, and the mood of the season stirred his passion further. His mind, clouded by longing, returned again and again to his wife, Girikā—graceful and radiant.

It was then that he noticed a swift hawk resting nearby. Understanding the nuances of Dharma and Artha, and compelled by the urgency of time and desire, the king approached the bird and said:

“Amiable one, I implore you—take this seed of mine and deliver it to my wife, Girikā. Her fertile season has come.”

The hawk, swift as the wind, took the king’s seed and soared into the sky, racing toward the queen. But as it flew, another hawk—of the same kind—spotted it from afar. Mistaking the object in its talons for a piece of meat, the second hawk attacked.

The two birds clashed mid-air, striking at each other fiercely with their beaks. During their aerial combat, the seed slipped from the claws of the first hawk and fell, tumbling down into the waters of the Yamunā.

Now, in those very waters dwelt an Apsarā of high rank named Adrikā. She had been transformed into a fish by the curse of a Brāhmaṇa. The moment the seed of King Vasu entered the river, Adrikā, sensing its descent, swiftly approached and swallowed it.

In the tenth month after this event, a fisherman caught that very fish. When it was cut open, two children of human form emerged—one male and one female. The fisherman was astonished and, bringing the children to King Uparicara, his sovereign, reported the marvel.

“O King,” he said, “these two beings of human shape have been found within the body of a fish.”

The king took the male child and raised him with care. In time, that boy became known as Matsya—a virtuous and truthful monarch of great renown.

As for Adrikā, the Apsarā, she was freed from her curse upon giving birth to the twins. The sage who had cursed her had foretold that once she brought forth two human children while living in her fish form, she would be released.

True to that prophecy, the moment the children were born and she was slain by the fisherman, Adrikā shed her fish form. Reassuming her celestial appearance, she ascended on the sacred path walked by Siddhas, Ṛṣis, and Chāraṇas—her curse fulfilled, her freedom regained.

The female child, born of the Apsarā Adrikā in her fish form, was given by King Uparicara to the fishermen, saying, “Let this child be your daughter.” Thus, the girl was raised among them.

She was named Satyavatī. Endowed with great beauty and every virtue, she had a graceful presence and a smile that was gentle and pleasing. Yet, because of her origin, and owing to her long association with the fishermen, her body bore the scent of fish for some time.

Desiring to serve her foster father and aid in his livelihood, Satyavatī took to ferrying boats across the waters of the Yamunā. With modesty and strength, she fulfilled her duties on the river, unaware of the great destiny that awaited her.

While engaged in her daily task of ferrying passengers across the Yamunā, Satyavatī was one day seen by the great Ṛṣi Parāśara, who was traveling along the river’s path.

The sage, though an anchorite of immense wisdom and restraint, was struck by her beauty. Her radiance, modest demeanor, and graceful smile awakened in him a sudden desire. So captivating was her presence that even a seer like Parāśara could not remain unaffected.

Approaching her, the sage—renowned among ascetics—spoke:

“O blessed one, accept my embrace.”

Satyavatī, startled yet composed, replied with humility and discernment:

“O holy one, look around—the banks of this river are lined with sages and ascetics. How can I grant your wish in their sight?”

Hearing Satyavatī’s hesitation, the great ascetic Parāśara created, by his yogic power, a dense and sudden fog. It had not existed before, but now enveloped the entire region in darkness, shielding them from all eyes.

The maiden, astonished by this miraculous act, was filled with wonder. But being alone, and caught in a situation beyond her control, she was also overcome with modesty and blushed deeply.

She said, “O venerable one, I am a maiden under my father’s care. If I grant your wish, my virginity will be lost. How shall I return home afterward, marked by dishonor? I fear I shall not be able to endure such shame.

O sinless one, consider all this and act in a way that is just and proper.”

The sage, pleased by her sincerity and composure, replied gently:

“You shall remain a virgin even after granting my wish. And now, O gentle one of radiant smile, ask of me a boon. My blessings never prove fruitless.”

Encouraged, Satyavatī asked for a transformation—that the fish-like scent which clung to her body be replaced by a sweet and pleasing fragrance.

The illustrious Ṛṣi granted her that boon at once, and from that moment, her body exuded a heavenly aroma, fragrant and divine.

Having received the boon she desired, Satyavatī was filled with joy. Her fertile season arrived at once, and she yielded to the embrace of the sage Parāśara—he of wondrous powers.

Beneath the veil of scented mist,

The sage and maiden met and kissed.

Though passion stirred the mystic night,

Her honor stayed untouched in light.

A boon had sealed her virtue’s frame,

And love had come without its shame.

From that moment, she became known as Gandhavatī, the sweet-scented one. Such was the grace of the sage’s boon that men could sense her fragrance from a full yojana away.

The winds would carry her perfume,

Like jasmine set to sky in bloom.

And so they called her by the name—

Yojanagandhā—scent and fame.

Parāśara, his will fulfilled, returned to his hermitage. Satyavatī, blessed in body and spirit, found herself with child from that divine union.

On that very day, on an island in the Yamunā, she gave birth to a radiant son—one gifted with extraordinary energy and destiny.

No cry he made, no weak delay,

He rose as if at once to pray.

A sage was born, not child nor wight,

With fire of tapas in his sight.

With her blessing, he chose the path of asceticism. Before departing, he said:

“O Mother, should the hour be dire,

Recall me with thy heart’s desire.

No space shall stand between thy plea—

At once, I’ll come when summoned by thee.”

So saying, he vanished into the forest, alone and undaunted, to live by austerity and wisdom.

And thus it was that Vyāsa was born—through the union of Parāśara and Satyavatī. Because he was born on a dvīpa, an island in the Yamunā, he came to be known as Dvaipāyana—the Island-born.

Born not of palace, nor of hall,

But on a river’s sacred call,

A sage arose, both wise and free—

Dvaipāyana of destiny.

Beholding the nature of time and decay, the learned Dvaipāyana saw that with each passing Yuga, virtue would lose one of its four legs. Life’s span would shorten. The strength of men would wane.

In Satya Yuga, dharma stood—

Four legs firm in truth and good.

In Tretā, one would slip away;

In Dvāpara, another sway.

And in dark Kali’s ruthless tide,

Just one leg would be left to guide.

Moved by compassion, and desiring the favor of Brahmā and the Brāhmaṇas, Vyāsa took upon himself a sacred task. He divided and arranged the infinite Veda, making its wisdom more accessible to mankind.

And because he thus compiled, he was known as Vyāsa.

The Vedas vast as ocean tide,

He broke like waves and set aside—

In parts that men might hold and hear,

The truth once distant, now drawn near.

To preserve the sacred knowledge, the boon-giving sage then taught it to his disciples—Sumantu, Jāmini, Paila and Vaiśampāyana—and to his own son, Śuka.

To them he also entrusted the great epic, Mahābhārata, which he called the fifth Veda—a scripture for all, in which Dharma, Artha, Kāma, and Mokṣa were revealed through story and history.

Each disciple received and recited the Bhārata in their own voice and way, carrying it forth to the world as Vyāsa had intended.