Santanu’s marriage with Satyavati rejuvenated him, though his son’s vow often pricked his conscience. But wasn’t life, he thought, a queer blend of desire and regret, sacrifice and redemption?
Satyavati bore him two sons, Chitrangada and Vichitravirya, both of whom grew into skilled archers under the tutelage of their elder brother, Bheeshma. Although Santanu was heartbroken when Chitrangada was killed in a battle, he felt that his younger son Vichitravirya would carry his dynasty forward. When death approached the king, he wished that Bheeshma should assume the reins of governance on behalf of Vichitravirya, who was still a minor. When the young prince came of age, Satyavati asked Bheeshma to look around for a suitable bride for him. Ever willing to serve his stepmother, Bheeshma immediately set out on this mission.
He was excited when he heard that the king of Kasi had just announced a svayamvara for his three daughters – Amba, Ambika and Ambalika. Since they were all known for their beauty and diverse accomplishments, there was a large gathering of suitors from all over the country, each eager to display his martial valour.
On a platform in the brightly lit central hall, sat the king with his daughters who looked gorgeous in their gold-filigreed sarees and diamond necklaces. Seated in velvet chairs were several anxious young princes dressed in brocade robes, holding bows and arrows.
There was a flutter in the hall when Bheeshma entered with his bow and arrows strapped to his shoulders. Everyone was taken by surprise to see this old warrior taking his seat in the front row. A wave of sneer swept through the hall. Why had he come to attend the svayamvara? Was he there as a suitor or a mere spectator? One of the suitors even said that Bheeshma had presumably renounced his vow of celibacy to savour the pleasures of marital life. Lust had overtaken age. Even the king was intrigued to see this old man at a ceremony meant only for young princes.
When one of the suitors called him ‘a dirty, old lecher’, Bheeshma leapt to his feet, picked up his bow and challenged the man to a duel.
‘Why don’t you test your youth and valour against me?’ Bheeshma thundered. Then he strode towards the platform and beckoned the three princesses to follow him out of the hall. Shock and anger seized everyone. Although all the suitors were up on their feet, nobody had the courage to block his way. The king also looked about helplessly. A grim silence descended over the place. Nobody stirred as the princesses demurely followed Bheeshma out of the hall.
When he was a short distance out of Kasi, Bheeshma saw Salva, the king of Saubala, blocking his way with about a hundred soldiers, all armed with bows, spears and maces.
‘How dare you carry away Amba, my bride-to-be, O old man!’ shouted Salva. ‘Surrender her to me, or face death at my hands.’
‘Laudable words, O King,’ retorted Bheeshma. ‘But why don’t you let your bow speak for you instead of your hollow threats?’ And forthwith he released a shower of arrows from his bow. In just a few moments, all the soldiers lay dead on the ground, like paddy in field laid low by a hailstorm.
As Bheeshma was about to shoot at Salva – who stood terrified in his chariot – Amba tugged at his robe and pleaded: ‘Spare his life, O Lord! I love him and I am engaged to be married to him.’
‘In that case, will you get off your chariot, O King,’ said Bheeshma, now turning to Salva, ‘and take your bride away?’
Humiliated and crestfallen, Salva shook his head. ‘No, I will not accept her, now that she is yours. A lion doesn’t take another beast’s kill.’
Saying these words, Salva turned around his chariot and rode away, leaving Amba downcast and heartbroken.
‘You have ruined my life, O Lord,’ she said, deeply hurt.
‘Princess, I’m willing to take you back to Salva myself and plead with him on your behalf.’
‘But you have seen how vehemently he has rejected me. I am undone. I am doomed to live unwed and uncared for, unless,’ she broke off, ‘you take after me as your bride. After all, you have won me at the svayamvara, vanquishing all other suitors. Isn’t it a Kshatriya’s dharma to own up his responsibility as a winning suitor?’
Taken by surprise, Bheeshma responded, ‘Indeed, I should apologize for what has happened. But let me explain that I had not gone to the svayamvara to win a bride for myself. I had promised my mother to find a suitable bride for my younger brother.’ He paused, looking at her compassionately. ‘As for myself, I am an old man bound by my vow of celibacy, the reasons for which I need not go into at this moment.’
‘That is a false pretext,’ Amba snapped at him. ‘I see in front of me a virile, young heart in an old body. So I still urge you to honour your dharma as a Kshatriya, observe the laws of chivalry and accept me as your bride.’
‘But I have already explained my helplessness,’ Bheeshma said, now somewhat tersely.
‘In that case, let me say that you have wounded my honour and I will avenge myself in this life or the next. I vow to be the cause of your death. Remember, that a jilted woman is like a wounded tigress.’
Although Bheeshma took it as an idle threat, he decided to escort her back to Kasi soon after they reached Hastinapur.
Ambika and Ambalika, however, were excited at the thought of marrying Vichitravirya, who was the Crown prince of Hastinapur. But what pleased them also was the warm affection they received from Satyavati, the queen mother, who said, ‘You will be like daughters to me, not daughters-in-law.’
It was not unusual in those days for a king to have two wives or more, so as to ensure that at least one of them would give birth to a male child to succeed to the throne.
Flames of revenge, meanwhile, continued to burn unabated in Amba’s heart. She decided not to rest until she could find someone to kill Bheeshma. In utter desperation, she asked several warriors to kill Bheeshma, but none dared challenge the mighty archer. She then decided to go into a forest and practise extreme austerities, in the hope that some god would respond to her prayers. After a long and arduous tapas, her prayers were granted and Lord Subrahmanya appeared before her. At once, she lay prostrate at his feet and pleaded, ‘O Lord, I’ve been grievously hurt by Bheeshma. I burn with humiliation while he lives.’
In response to her entreaty, the Lord offered her a garland of lotuses of eternal bloom. If she hung it at the door of any man’s house, he would have to undertake the killing of Bheeshma. But no man let her hang the garland at his door, as all of them were afraid of challenging Bheeshma.
Utterly frustrated, Amba returned to the forest and again engaged herself in tapas. For several days and nights, she fasted and prayed. This time it was Lord Siva who appeared before her.
‘I know what is tormenting you, O child,’ said the god. ‘I can grant you a boon, but it will help you only in your next life. You will be born to King Drupada as his son, by the name of Sikhandi. As Arjuna’s charioteer on the battlefield of Kurukshetra, you will confront Bheeshma, who will lay down his arms, after recognizing you as Amba. Just at that moment, Arjuna will shoot a deadly arrow at Bheeshma, wounding him seriously.’
Immediately, Amba fell at Lord Siva’s feet in deep gratitude and reverence. ‘All glory to you, O my saviour!’ she exclaimed.
However, being irrepressibly impatient, she could not wait for an entire lifespan to quench her thirst for revenge. In her frenzy, she collected some dry wood from the forest, arranged it as a pyre, set it aflame and jumped into it. In a few moments, the pyre burst into a blaze, its multi-tongued flames leaping like a brood of snakes. In a short while, she was reduced to ashes.