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The dynastic story of Hastinapura reaches a turning where a single man makes himself deathless by a vow, and to follow it you have to begin far back, in a court in heaven. In the race of Ikshvaku there was a king named Mahabhisha, lord of all the earth, truthful in speech and true in his prowess. With a thousand horse-sacrifices, the great ashvamedha rites, and a hundred rajasuyas, the sacrifices by which a king becomes emperor over kings, he pleased Indra, chief of the celestials, and in the end he won a place in heaven. But a single lapse of a single moment, in heaven itself, dragged him back into a mortal body, and out of that lapse sprang the line that would one day arrive at Bhishma.
Brahma’s Court and the Curse on Mahabhisha
One day the gods had gathered to worship Brahma, the creator, called here the Grandsire. Many royal sages were present, and King Mahabhisha among them. Into that same assembly came Ganga, the queen of rivers, to make her adorations to the Grandsire. A gust of wind lifted her garment, white as the light of the moon, and for a moment her body stood bare. Every god there lowered his eyes. Only the royal sage Mahabhisha kept staring at the queen of rivers, shameless, unable to look away.
For this Brahma cursed him. “You forgot yourself at the sight of Ganga,” he said, “and so you will be born again on earth. Yet again and again you will return to these regions. She too will be born into the world of men, and she will do you injury. But when your anger is finally roused, you will be free of my curse.”
King Mahabhisha ran through in his mind all the monarchs and ascetics of the earth, and he chose to be born as the son of Pratipa, a king of great prowess. Ganga, for her part, having watched Mahabhisha lose his composure so completely, went on her way with her thoughts fixed on him.
A key to reading this (lineage): King Mahabhisha of the Ikshvaku line is the one who will be born again as Shantanu, the son of King Pratipa, and Ganga in human form will be his wife. This is how the Mahabharata keeps the stories of heaven and earth knotted into each other.
The Vasus on the Road and Ganga’s Promise
As she traveled that road, Ganga saw ahead of her the Vasus, dwellers in heaven, the band of eight gods, walking the same path. Seeing the state they were in, the queen of rivers asked them, “Why do you look so downcast? Dwellers in heaven, is all well with you?”
The Vasus answered, “Queen of rivers, for one small fault we have been cursed, in anger, by the illustrious Vasishtha. He was seated at his twilight prayers, and we did not see him, and we crossed over him without meaning to. For this he cursed us in his wrath: Be born among men. What has been spoken by one whose word carries the force of Brahma is not in our power to undo. So we ask you, river, take the form of a mortal woman and let us, the Vasus, be your children. We have no wish, gentle one, to enter the womb of any human woman.”
Ganga said, “Let it be so,” and asked, “On earth, who is the best of men whom you will take for your father?” The Vasus answered, “On earth a son named Santanu will be born to Pratipa, a king whose fame will reach across the world.” Ganga said, “Then what you sinless ones have chosen is exactly my own wish. I will surely do good to that Santanu.”
The Vasus said, “As soon as we are born, throw us into the water, so that you, who flow by three courses (through the sky, the earth, and the region below), may set us free quickly, and we need not stay long on the earth.” Ganga answered, “I will do as you wish. But so that my union with this king is not left entirely without fruit, let at least one son live.” The Vasus replied, “We will each give an eighth part of our own energy. From that combined portion you and the king will have one son, as the two of you desire. But this son will father no children on earth. Endowed with great energy, your son will remain childless.” Having arranged this with Ganga, the Vasus went on, without pausing, to the place they wished to reach.
The gist: Brahma’s curse will bring King Mahabhisha back to earth as Shantanu; Vasishtha’s curse will make the eight Vasus mortal. Both currents meet in Ganga, who will be Shantanu’s wife and the Vasus’ mother at once, and the eighth son who is allowed to live becomes, by design, the center of everything that follows.
King Pratipa and the Maiden on His Thigh
There was a king named Pratipa, gentle to every living creature. For many years he practiced austerities at the source of the river Ganga. One day that same lovely Ganga rose out of the water in the shape of a beautiful woman and came to him. The celestial maiden, radiant with a beauty that could stop a heart, approached the royal sage where he sat deep in his penances, and she settled herself on his right thigh, firm as a sala tree in its manly strength.
The king said, “What is it you want, gentle one? What shall I do for you?” The maiden answered, “I want you, king, for my husband. Be mine, best of the Kurus. The wise have never praised a man who turns away a woman who comes to him of her own will.” Pratipa replied, “Fair one, I do not go, out of desire, to the wives of others or to women outside my own order. This is my vow, and it is my dharma.”
The maiden pressed him. “I am not unlucky, and I am not ugly. I am worthy in every way. I am a celestial maiden of rare beauty, and I want you for my husband. Do not refuse me, king.” Pratipa said, “The path you are urging me toward is one I have turned away from. If I break my vow, sin will close over me and kill me. You have embraced me, fair one, and taken your seat on my right thigh. But know this, gentle woman: the right thigh is the place for daughters and daughters-in-law. The left lap is the wife’s, and that you did not take. So I cannot take you as an object of my desire. Become instead my daughter-in-law. I accept you for my son.”
The maiden said, “Let it be as you say, virtuous king. I will be joined to your son. Out of my respect for you I will become a bride of the famed line of Bharata. I could not count the virtues of your race in a hundred years. Let one thing be settled now: when I am your daughter-in-law, your son must never sit in judgment over the rightness of anything I do. Living with him that way, I will do him good and add to his happiness, and through the sons I bear him, and through his own virtue and good conduct, he will in the end reach heaven.” Having said this, the celestial maiden vanished on the spot, and the king settled down to wait for the birth of his son, so that he could keep the word he had given.
The Birth of Shantanu and His Father’s Command
In that same time Pratipa, that light of the Kuru race, that bull among the Kshatriyas, stayed with his wife in austerities, longing for a child. When they had grown old, a son was at last born to them. This was Mahabhisha come again. Because his father had subdued his senses through his penances when the child was conceived, the boy was named Shantanu. And Shantanu, best of the Kurus, understanding that the world of unfading bliss is won by one’s own deeds alone, gave himself to virtue.
When Shantanu had grown into a young man, Pratipa said to him, “Some time ago, Shantanu, a celestial maiden came to me for your sake. If you should meet that fair woman in a private place, and if she asks you for children, take her as your wife. And, my sinless son, do not judge whether what she does is proper or improper, and do not ask who she is, or whose, or where she comes from. At my command, take her as your wife.” Having given this charge to his son and set him on the throne, Pratipa withdrew into the forest.
King Shantanu, gifted with great intelligence and a splendor to match Indra’s own, grew fond of the hunt and spent much of his time in the woods, bringing down deer and buffalo. One day, wandering along the bank of the Ganga, he came to a stretch of country where the Siddhas and Charanas move. There he saw a maiden of blazing beauty, like a second Sri, the goddess of fortune herself; her teeth were flawless as pearls, she wore celestial ornaments, and her fine robes shone like the filaments of a lotus. At the sight of her the king stood amazed, and his delight raised the hair on his body. He gazed and gazed, as though drinking in her beauty, and no amount of drinking could quench his thirst. The maiden too, watching this king of blazing splendor move about in his agitation, softened, and an affection for him rose in her; she looked at him and longed to keep looking.
The king spoke to her in gentle words. “Slender one, whether you are a goddess or the daughter of a Danava, whether you come from the line of the Gandharvas or are an Apsara, whether you belong to the Yakshas or the Nagas, or are of human birth, maiden of celestial beauty, I ask you to become my wife.”
A key to reading this (the idea): Pratipa’s command is the pin on which the rest of the story turns. Shantanu has been told never to question anything this maiden does. That instruction is what will let Ganga carry eight sons into the river, and the moment Shantanu breaks it, Ganga leaves him.
Ganga’s Condition and the Drowning of Eight Sons
The maiden heard those soft and sweet words of the smiling king, and she remembered her promise to the Vasus. She answered him, and every word she spoke sent a thrill of pleasure through him. “King, I will be your wife and obey you. But whatever I do, king, whether it pleases you or not, you must never interfere with me, and you must never speak a harsh word to me. As long as you are kind to me, I will stay with you. But the moment you cross me, or say something unkind, I will leave you, and I will not turn back.” The king said, “Let it be so.”
The maiden was overjoyed to have won so fine a king for her husband, and Shantanu, having won her for his wife, gave himself wholly to the pleasure of her company. True to his word, he asked her nothing. So the goddess Ganga, who flows by three courses, wearing a human form of surpassing beauty, lived happily as Shantanu’s wife. She pleased him with her charm, her tenderness, her play of expression, her music and her dance, and she was happy herself. The king was so lost in his beautiful wife that months, seasons, and years went by without his marking their passage.
Living in that happiness, the king had eight sons born to him, each as lovely as one of the gods. And one after another, Bharata, as soon as each was born, Ganga carried it to the river and let it slip into the current, saying, “This is for your good.” Each child sank and never rose again. The king could take no pleasure in this. But he said not one word about it, for fear that his wife would leave him.
But when the eighth child was born, and his wife was about to carry it smiling to the water as before, the king, his face full of grief, and desperate to save the boy from destruction, spoke out. “Do not kill it! Who are you, and whose? Why do you murder your own sons? Killer of your children, the weight of your sin is enormous!”
Answered in this way, his wife said, “You who longed for offspring, you are already first among men who have children. I will not destroy this son of yours. But by our agreement, my time of living with you is now over. I am Ganga, the daughter of Jahnu. The great sages worship me forever. I stayed with you all this while to accomplish the purposes of the gods. The eight illustrious Vasus, filled with great energy, had to take human form because of Vasishtha’s curse. On earth there was no one but you fit to be their father, and no woman but one like me, a celestial in human shape, fit to be their mother. I took a human body to bring them forth. And you, by becoming the father of the eight Vasus, have won for yourself many regions of unending bliss. It was settled between me and the Vasus that I would free them from their human forms the moment they were born. So I have freed them from the curse of the Rishi Apava. Blessings on you; I leave you now, king. But raise this child of stern vows. Staying with you this long was the promise I made to the Vasus. Let this boy be called Gangadatta, the gift of Ganga.”
A key to reading this (the count): eight sons, meaning the eight Vasus. Seven were carried into the water and released; the eighth, because the king interfered, remained on earth. This eighth son will be called Gangadatta, then Devavrata, and at last Bhishma.
The Vasus’ Crime: Nandini and the Curse of Apava
Shantanu asked her, “What was the fault of the Vasus, and who was this Apava, whose curse forced them to be born among men? And what has this child of yours, Gangadatta, done, that he must live among men? Daughter of Jahnu, tell me all of it.”
Ganga answered, “Best of Bharata’s race, the one who was obtained as a son by Varuna was called Vasishtha, the sage who later came to be known as Apava. His hermitage stood on the breast of Meru, the king of mountains. The place was holy and full of birds and beasts, and flowers of every season bloomed there all year round. It was there that Vasishtha, the son of Varuna, practiced his penances, in woods rich with sweet roots and water.
“Daksha had a daughter named Surabhi, who, for the good of the world, brought forth by her union with Kasyapa a daughter in the form of a cow, and this was Nandini. Nandini was the cow of plenty, able to grant every wish. The virtuous son of Varuna kept Nandini for his fire-rites, and the cow, living in that hermitage that the sages revered, wandered without fear through those sacred and lovely woods.
“One day, best of Bharata’s race, the Vasus came into those god-haunted woods, with Prithu at their head. Roaming there with their wives, they took their pleasure among the delightful woods and hills. And as she wandered, the slender-waisted wife of one of the Vasus saw Nandini, the cow of plenty. This was a cow with every good mark, large eyes, full udders, a fine tail, shapely hooves, and she gave abundant milk. The wife pointed the animal out to her husband Dyu.
“When Dyu was shown the cow, he began to praise her many qualities, and he said to his wife, ‘Black-eyed girl of fair thighs, this splendid cow belongs to the Rishi whose lovely hermitage this is. Slender one, the mortal who drinks this cow’s sweet milk stays young and unchanged for ten thousand years.’ Hearing this, the beautiful goddess of flawless features said to her radiant husband, ‘On earth I have a friend, Jitavati, rich in beauty and youth. She is the daughter of that god among men, the royal sage Usinara, a man of intelligence devoted to truth. I want this cow, with her calf, for that friend of mine. Bring the cow, best of the celestials, so that my friend, drinking her milk, may become the one person on earth free of disease and old age. Grant me this, blameless one. Nothing would please me more.’
“To please his wife, Dyu stole the cow, with the help of his brothers, Prithu and the rest. Commanded by his lotus-eyed wife, he did as she asked, forgetting in that moment the great ascetic power of the Rishi who owned the cow. He did not stop to think that by the sin of stealing her he was setting himself up for a fall.
“When the son of Varuna came back to his hermitage in the evening, carrying the fruit he had gathered, the cow and her calf were not there. He searched the woods, and when his search turned up nothing, he saw with his ascetic vision that the Vasus had stolen her. His anger flared at once, and he cursed them. ‘Because the Vasus have stolen my cow of sweet milk and handsome tail, they will most certainly be born on earth!’
“So the Rishi Apava cursed the Vasus in his anger, and then turned his mind back to his meditations. When the Vasus learned of the curse, they hurried to his hermitage and tried to soften him. They could win no mercy from Apava, who knew every rule of virtue. But the virtuous Apava did say this: ‘Vasus, you and Dhava and the others have been cursed by me. But within a year of your birth among men you will be free of my curse. Only he for whose deed you were all cursed, Dyu himself, will have to remain on earth a long time for his sin. I will not let the words I spoke in anger come to nothing. Dyu, though he lives on earth, will father no children. Even so, he will be virtuous and learned in the scriptures. He will be an obedient son to his father, but he will have to give up the pleasure of a woman’s company.’
“Having said this to the Vasus, the great Rishi went his way. The Vasus came together to me and begged the boon that, as soon as they were born, I would throw them into the water. And to free them from their earthly lives, king, I did exactly that. Only this one, Dyu himself, is to remain on earth a while, by the Rishi’s curse.” Having said all this, the goddess vanished on the spot, and taking the child with her, she went off to the region she had chosen. That son of Shantanu was given both names, Gangeya and Devavrata, and he grew to surpass his father in every accomplishment.
A sub-tale: the eighth Vasu, Dyu, is the one who became Devavrata. Apava (that is Vasishtha) had cursed him to dwell on earth for a long time, to be virtuous, and yet to remain childless and to keep away from the pleasure of a woman’s company. Notice that this curse is what ripens, later, into Bhishma’s vow of lifelong celibacy. In the Mahabharata a curse and a vow are often the two ends of a single fate.
Shantanu’s Reign and the Recognition of Devavrata
After his wife vanished, Shantanu returned to his capital with a heavy heart. He was a king known through all the worlds for his wisdom, his virtues, and his truthfulness. Self-control, generosity, forgiveness, intelligence, modesty, patience, and a superior energy lived always in that best of men. His neck bore three lines, like the marks on a conch shell; his shoulders were broad, and in sheer force he was like an elephant in rut. Seeing him so devoted to virtue, the kings of the earth gave him the title King of kings. In his reign the kings of the earth slept without grief, without fear, without anxiety of any kind, and rose each morning from happy dreams. Shantanu was free of anger and malice, as pleasing to look on as the moon; in radiance he was like the sun, in speed like the wind, in wrath like Yama, and in patience like the earth. In his kingdom no deer, no boar, no bird, no creature at all was killed to no purpose. The great dharma of kindness to every living thing ran through his realm. After thirty-six years of contented family life, Shantanu withdrew into the forest.
Shantanu’s son, the Vasu born of Ganga, whose name was Devavrata, matched Shantanu himself in beauty, in habits, in conduct, and in learning. In every branch of knowledge, worldly and spiritual, his skill was very great. His strength and his energy were extraordinary. He became a mighty warrior on his chariot. He was, in truth, a great king.
One day, chasing along the bank of the Ganga a deer he had struck with an arrow, King Shantanu noticed that the river had gone shallow. The strange sight set him wondering why that first of rivers no longer ran as full as before. Searching for the cause, the king saw that a youth of great beauty, well made and pleasing to look at, like Indra himself, had checked the whole flow of the river with a keen celestial weapon. To see the Ganga held back like that beside the young man amazed the king. The youth was none other than Shantanu’s own son. But Shantanu had seen his son only once, for a few moments after his birth, and he had no clear memory to tie that infant to the youth before him now. The youth, on the other hand, knew his father the instant he saw him, and yet instead of naming himself, he clouded the king’s sight with his celestial power of illusion and vanished before his eyes.
Amazed at what he had seen, and taking the youth for his own son, Shantanu called out to Ganga. “Show me that child.” Ganga took on a lovely form and, holding the boy, decked in ornaments, in her right arm, showed him to Shantanu. He did not recognize that beautiful woman, adorned with ornaments and dressed in fine white robes, though he had known her before.
Ganga said, “Best of men, this is the eighth son you begot on me some time ago. Know that this fine boy is skilled in every weapon. Take him now, king. I have reared him with care. Take him home with you, best of men. This boy of high intelligence has studied the whole of the Vedas and their branches with Vasishtha. Skilled in every weapon and a great archer, he is like Indra in battle. Both the gods and the Asuras, Bharata, look on him with favor. Everything that Usanas knows, he knows completely, and he is master of all the sciences known to Brihaspati, the son of Angiras. And every weapon known to the mighty and unconquered Rama, the son of Jamadagni (Parashurama), is known to this strong-armed son of yours. Take your own heroic child, king of high courage, whom I now give to you.”
So commanded by Ganga, Shantanu took his son, radiant as the sun, and returned to his capital. Reaching his city, which was like the city of the gods, that king of Puru’s line counted himself truly fortunate. He gathered all the Pauravas together and, for the safety of his kingdom, named his son heir-apparent. By his conduct the prince soon won over his father, the rest of the Paurava house, and every subject of the realm. And the king, whose prowess had no equal, lived happily with that son of his.
A key to reading this (lineage): Devavrata carries two names, Gangeya (son of Ganga) and Devavrata. He is a pupil of Vasishtha and a master of the weapons of Parashurama. Named heir-apparent, he is the rightful successor to the throne by dharma. This is the very right he will stake in his vow.
The Fragrance on the Yamuna’s Bank and Satyavati
Four years passed like this, and then one day the king went into the woods on the bank of the Yamuna. Wandering there, he caught a sweet scent that came from no direction he could name. Wanting to find its source, he roamed here and there, and in the course of his walk he came upon a dark-eyed maiden of celestial beauty, the daughter of a fisherman. The king said to her, “Who are you, and whose daughter? What are you doing here, gentle one?” She answered, “Blessings on you. I am the daughter of the chief of the fishermen. At his command, and for the merit of it, I row travelers across this river in my boat.”
Looking at that maiden of celestial form, with her beauty, her sweetness, and her fragrance, Shantanu wanted her for his wife. He went to her father and asked his consent to the match. But the chief of the fishermen said to him, “King, when my daughter of fine complexion was born, it was of course understood that she would be given to some husband. But hear the wish I have carried in my heart all this while. You are truthful, sinless one; if you want this girl as a gift from me, give me a pledge. On that pledge I will give you my daughter, for I will never find a husband to equal you.”
Shantanu said, “When I have heard the pledge you ask, I will tell you whether I can grant it. If it can be granted, I will surely grant it; if not, how can I?” The fisherman said, “King, this is what I ask of you: the son born of this girl, and no one else, you will set upon your throne as your successor.”
Hearing this, Shantanu had no wish to grant such a boon, though the fire of desire was burning him from within. His heart wrung by longing, the king rode back to Hastinapura the whole way with the fisherman’s daughter on his mind. Home again, he passed his days in sorrowful thought.
A key to reading this (the idea): the fisherman’s condition drops Shantanu straight into a trap. To make Satyavati’s son king is to strip Devavrata of his place as heir-apparent. The king’s dharma and the father’s love both keep him silent. This moral knot is the ground on which the son’s vow is built.
The Father’s Grief and Devavrata’s Inquiry
One day Devavrata came to his troubled father and said, “Everything prospers for you, every chief obeys you; why then are you sunk in grief like this? Lost in your own thoughts, you will not say a word to me in reply. You no longer ride out on horseback; you look pale and thin, all your spirit gone. I want to know the sickness you suffer from, so that I can try to cure it.”
To his son’s question Shantanu answered, “You are right, son, that I have grown melancholy. And I will tell you why. You, of Bharata’s line, are the one shoot of this great house of ours. You are forever at your weapons and your feats of prowess. But I, son, am always thinking of how unstable a human life is. If some danger were to take you, child of Ganga, the result would be that we are left with no son at all. In truth, you alone are worth a hundred sons to me. That is why I have no wish to marry again. I only wish and pray that you may always be well, so that our line goes on. The wise say that a man with a single son has, in a sense, no son. I have no shadow of doubt, wise one, that a man reaches heaven by fathering sons. You are a hero of hot temper, forever at the exercise of arms. It is very possible that you will be killed on the field of battle. If that should happen, what will become of the house of Bharata? It is this thought that has made me so heavy. Now I have told you fully the reasons for my sorrow.”
Devavrata, who had great intelligence, took all this in and thought quietly to himself for a while. Then he went to the old minister who was devoted to his father’s welfare and asked him the cause of the king’s grief. The minister told the prince about the boon the chief of the fishermen had demanded in the matter of his daughter Gandhavati.
The Fisherman’s Court and the Second Doubt
Then Devavrata, taking with him a number of aged and honorable Kshatriya chiefs, went himself to the chief of the fishermen and asked, on the king’s behalf, for his daughter. The chief received him with all due honors, and when the prince had taken his seat in the court, the man said to him, “Bull among the Bharatas, you are the first of all who wield weapons, and Shantanu’s only son. Your power is great. But I have something to say to you. If the bride’s father were Indra himself, he would still have cause to regret refusing so honorable and desirable a match. The great man from whose seed this celebrated girl, Satyavati, was born is in fact your equal in virtue. He has spoken to me many times of your father’s qualities, and told me that the king alone is worthy of Satyavati. Let me add that I have even turned away the celestial sage Asita, best of the Brahmarshis, who also asked more than once for Satyavati’s hand.
“For the girl’s sake I have only one thing to say. In this proposed marriage there is one great objection, and it rests on this: a co-wife’s son who becomes a rival. To a man who has a rival like you, subduer of foes, there is no safety, be he Asura or Gandharva. That is the one objection to the match, and there is no other. Blessings on you. That is all I have to say about giving Satyavati or withholding her.”
Devavrata’s Terrible Vow
Hearing these words, and moved by the wish to do his father good, Devavrata answered in front of the assembled chiefs, “Best of truthful men, listen to the vow I make! The man has never been born, and never will be, who has the courage to take such a vow! I will do everything you ask. The son born of this girl shall be our king.”
At this the chief of the fishermen, driven by his longing for sovereignty for his daughter’s son, and reaching for the almost impossible, said, “Virtuous one, you have come here as full agent for your father Shantanu, whose glory is beyond measure; be then the sole manager on my behalf too, in the matter of giving away my daughter. But there is something more to be said, amiable one, something more for you to weigh. Men who have daughters, subduer of foes, are bound by the very nature of their duty to say what I am saying. The pledge you have given for Satyavati’s sake, before these chiefs, was truly worthy of you. I have not the least doubt, strong-armed one, that you will ever break it. But about the children you may father, I have my doubts.”
Devavrata, devoted to truth, understood the fisherman’s misgiving, and moved again by the wish to do his father good, he said, “Chief of the fishermen, best of men, hear what I say before these assembled kings. Kings, I have already given up my right to the throne. Now I will settle the matter of my children as well. Fisherman, from this day I take the vow of Brahmacharya, a life of study and meditation without desire. If I die without a son, I will still reach the regions of unending bliss in heaven!”
At these words of Ganga’s son, the hair on the fisherman’s body stood up with joy, and he answered, “I give you my daughter!” In that same moment the Apsaras and the gods, with the many bands of Rishis, began to rain flowers down from the sky onto Devavrata’s head, and they cried out, “This one is Bhishma, the man of the terrible vow.” Then Bhishma, to serve his father, said to the radiant girl, “Mother, climb into this chariot, and let us go to our home.”
So saying, Bhishma helped the beautiful girl up into his chariot. Reaching Hastinapura with her, he told Shantanu everything just as it had happened. The assembled kings, together and one by one, praised his extraordinary deed and said, “He is truly Bhishma, the terrible.” And Shantanu too, hearing of his son’s extraordinary act, was overjoyed, and he granted the noble prince the boon of death at will. “Death will never come to you,” he said, “as long as you wish to live. Truly, sinless one, death will come to you only when it has first obtained your leave.”
The gist: Devavrata made two vows. The first, that Satyavati’s son alone would be king, which surrendered his own place as heir-apparent; the second, to settle the fisherman’s other doubt, that he would take up lifelong celibacy, so that no child of his could ever claim the throne. It was this terrible vow that earned Devavrata the name Bhishma. Notice that the same vow, without his ever intending it, also fulfills the curse Apava laid on the Vasu Dyu, to be childless and to keep away from a woman’s company. The boon of death at will, given to him out of a father’s love, will stay with Bhishma all the way to Kurukshetra.
Source: The Mahabharata (Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa), Adi Parva; in the Gita Press, Gorakhpur tradition.
Based on: The Mahabharata, Vedavyasa (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)