In today’s episode, we continue the timeless tale of the Mahabharat. We journey into the life of the wise and powerful Bharata, and trace the lineage that leads us to King Shantanu—whose fateful meeting with the mysterious river goddess Ganga would forever shape the destiny of the Kuru dynasty."
Bharata had many sons. But as they grew older, he observed them closely — their thoughts, their behaviour, their decisions. And when the time came to choose a successor, he made a decision that shocked everyone. He said, “These sons of mine… they are not fit to be kings. They lack the qualities needed to serve and protect the people.” It was the first time in recorded history that a ruler openly declared that birth alone does not make one worthy of the throne. Just because someone is born to a king does not mean he should automatically inherit the crown.
This act of Bharata showed extraordinary wisdom. It wasn't about emotion or attachment — it was about responsibility. For Bharata, the welfare of his people came first, even above his own bloodline. And this principle became a cornerstone of true kingship. He set a powerful example: that rulership must be based on merit, not lineage.
The people revered Bharata not just as a ruler, but as a wise guardian of dharma — known for his balanced mind, his sense of justice, and his deep connection with every citizen. He ruled with such fairness and inclusiveness that generations later, this very land would come to be known by his name — Bharatavarsha, the land of Bharata.
Bharata’s greatness was not only in ruling well but in rising above personal ties. He was celebrated for his calm mind, his fairness, and his deep inclusiveness. His rule wasn’t about power — it was about dharma. That’s one of the reasons this land came to be named Bharatavarsha — in honour of such a noble king.
When he found none of his own sons fit to take the throne, Bharata looked beyond blood. He chose a boy named Vithatha to succeed him. This boy was born under unusual and unfortunate circumstances. His mother, Mamata, was the wife of Brihaspati’s brother. But in a moment of terrible indiscretion, Brihaspati himself forced himself upon her, and from that act, Vithatha was born. Though born in shame, Vithatha was raised with dignity, and Bharata saw in him the makings of a wise ruler.
This bold and righteous decision shaped history. Vithatha became king — and true to Bharata’s vision, he ruled with justice, intelligence, and balance. From Vithatha’s lineage came a long line of noble rulers — and fourteen generations later, a king was born who would carry the legacy forward: Shantanu.
Shantanu was not just another king. He was the great-grandfather of the Pandavas and Kauravas, a key figure in the Mahabharata. But long before he was Shantanu, in his previous birth, he was known as Mahabhishek — a mighty king who had completed his earthly duties and entered the celestial realms.
There, in the court of Indra, Mahabhishek sat among the devas. One day, Goddess Ganga came to visit the court. As she walked in, a breeze shifted her garment, exposing her upper body. The devas, out of respect, immediately turned their eyes away — all except Mahabhishek. Captivated, he kept staring at her, unaware of the impropriety.
Indra, noticing this, stood up and said, “You are not yet free from earthly desires. You do not belong here. Go back — be born again as a human.” But Indra also noticed something else — that Ganga had enjoyed the attention. And so, Indra pronounced judgment on her too. “You are no exception. You too must take birth on Earth. Live through the joys and sorrows of human life. Only when you are freed from pride, may you return.”
Thus, destiny was set in motion. Mahabhishek would be reborn as Shantanu, and Ganga would descend to Earth to meet him again. But in his human form, Shantanu remembered nothing of his past. Ganga, however, remembered everything. She waited patiently, drawing him closer.
Shantanu, now king, would often wander through the forests, lost in thought and solitude. He was a skilled hunter, and when he hunted, he poured himself into it. For him, the hunt was a form of worship — a meditation where the mind dissolved into action.
But fate was drawing him elsewhere — not toward the forest, but toward the river.
For many weeks, King Shantanu had been roaming the forests, completely immersed in the thrill of the hunt. The Ganga flowed quietly nearby, but he paid no attention to her waters. He was a king, and wherever he went, his attendants ensured his needs were met — food, water, shelter, all was taken care of.
But one day, deep in the forest, he found himself alone. No guards. No servants. And thirst took hold of him.
He turned to the river at last — the ancient Ganga, flowing with a silent dignity. As he approached to drink, something miraculous happened. From the heart of the river, a woman emerged — radiant, graceful, and divine beyond words.
The moment Shantanu laid eyes on her, he was spellbound. He had never seen such beauty, nor felt such longing. This was no ordinary maiden. She was otherworldly. He walked toward her, heart surrendered, and said, “Will you be my wife?”
The woman — it was Ganga, the goddess herself — looked into his eyes and smiled gently. “Yes,” she said, “I will marry you. But there is one condition. No matter what I do, no matter how strange it may seem — you must never question me. You must never ask me why I do what I do.”
Shantanu didn’t hesitate. Love had overwhelmed reason. He agreed.
Such conditions weren’t new in the line of kings. Even long before Shantanu, stories were told — like that of King Puru, one of the early ancestors of the Kuru dynasty. He too had fallen in love with an apsara, Urvashi. When he asked her to marry him, she had set down two unusual terms: “You must always protect my goats, no matter what it costs you. Even if your army must defend them. And second, no one should ever see you without clothes — not even by accident.”
Puru agreed. But the devas, wishing to bring Urvashi back to heaven, plotted a test. One night, as Urvashi and Puru lay together, the devas stole the goats. Urvashi cried out, “My goats! Someone is taking them!” Instinctively, Puru jumped up and ran out. Just then, Indra flashed a lightning bolt across the sky, and Puru’s body was fully exposed in the sudden light. The condition was broken.
Urvashi said nothing more. “You broke your promise,” she said softly, and vanished — never to return.
In time, as human society evolved, the power once held by women — the power to set the terms of love, life, and companionship — slowly faded. What was once a matriarchal structure began to lean toward patriarchy. The Mahabharata, in its unfolding, carries the reflection of this transformation.
But for now, back in Shantanu’s world, Ganga had become his queen. A wife beyond imagination — divine, loving, mysterious. And in time, she became pregnant with their first child.
But what was to come… no one could have imagined.
To Be Continued...
