Vasudev and Pritha -Siblings who brought the Gods to the earth #Mahabharata

Fate did have some plans of her own!

"How is she now!" Bhoja caught the mid wife by her arm. 

The woman winced at his sudden grip and then nodded understanding his concern. "It is diffcult sire. We can't say anything now."

A scream from the encampment rented into the air startling him.

"Save the mother. Let go of the child!" He cried when the woman hurried inside. 

"She is too young to give birth and survive. Let me not keep your hopes high!" The mid wife remarked bluntly before rushing in.

"By Mahadev! This child seems to be the death of her!" He remembered Kunti's fearful face when he left her in the encampment at the mercy of the local mid wives in the borders of Kashi. "Curse the fate, the girl cannot even birth a child in the luxury of a palace even after being adopted by a King!"

She had been his daughter only for a few months. Still, Bhoja felt an unexplainable bond towards her, like he had never felt for his own son when the boy was alive. If she died giving birth, it felt like the world ceased to retain a sense of meaning. The helpless king in his sixties looked up to the sky. She had told him that the God of the skies was the father of the unborn child, a story that he had dismissed. "Some wanton man in pale skin has just taken fancy for a child and deceived you!" He had told her back. But at the moment, he wanted to believe in her story and curse the Sun. If he claims my daughter, your son is dead! He found himself mouthing at the crimson ball in the western skies. 

A gruelling hour passed as the King of Kunti province paced around the secluded banks of River Ganga. Prayers to Gods became promises of various offerings and now bordered at threats to lose faith. Bhoja felt faint with worry when his ears heard the cry of the infant. He hurried towards the tent when the midwife brought out the newborn. "Your grandson."

"How is my girl?" He asked without bothering to even see the face of the infant. He is not my grandson! 

"Exhausted. But alive!" She sighed, her eyes falling in part contempt at his indifference towards the newborn. 

Bhoja rushed into the tent and saw an unconscious Kunti. Her face swollen red with exhaustion. She had passed through hell!

"Bathe the child and keep him ready." He ordered the midwives, not catching the horror on their faces imagining what he planned to do with the unfortunate child, illegitimate for no mistake of his. Hurrying out of the hut, he found the trusted brahmin waiting for him.

"They should be here by dawn." The brahmin told him. "I met them three days before, a well to do couple from Hastina. They lost their child about a couple of months back. The mother has not even stopped lactating."

"I trusted you, O Brahmin. And I warn you, my girl should not be under any kind of suspicion." He calmed down, planning the next course of action. "It is a boy." He added.

"Their dead child was a boy too." The Brahmin nodded. "We can manage it. I'll perform the last rites as per their wish. And the child has to make an appearance, like he were the blessing of the River. That would compel them to take him."

Bhoja nodded, collapsing on to a rock. Another night had to pass before he could rid his daughter of the unwanted burden. It was a welcome thing that the boy would not be a source of happiness to another couple. That is how it has to be!

"No! No Father, I beg you!" Kunti pleaded, straining to speak each word. "My son has done no crime!"

"He is not your son." Bhoja replied, his own tired eyes betraying no emotion.

"You have been compassionate to an orphaned girl who was a stranger to you. Why don't you spare some for her child?" She persisted fighting against her tears. "Let me suggest you something. Abandon me here. You adopt my son. I am sure he would grow up to be a worthy prince."

"You are Mahadev's gift to me. I can't abandon you!" He snapped. It was beyond their comprehension, the attachment he felt towards her and the scorn he had for the child.

"Please father!" She pleaded before the world turned dark to her. 

That would be the last time you feed him. He thought before taking the newborn and placing him in a cane basket, wrapped in soft silks. She would be heart broken, he admitted to himself. But the girl did not have a clue of the life that awaited her if she wanted to keep him with her. "Besides, a wedlock and a family are a human construct. Weren't there days where women used to mate with men to bear their sons and promptly left them for other men? The child is a father's responsibility before the Rishis invented this wedlock." He knew these were the best arguments his conscience could come up with for separating a mother and a child. But I have to do it!

A cock crowed at a distance, signalling dawn. Bhoja walked out taking the baby with him.

----

On the banks of Ganga, a bereaved Atirath, the charioteer of the prince of Hastinapur performed the rites of his dead child, intermittently consoling his wife who broke into sobs now and then.

"It is a good sign that you came down to this holy place Atirath." The priest remarked. "Mother Ganga shall end your misery. Trust Her."

"The same Mother flows past our own home, Great one!" Atirath replied with a sad smile. "The same Mother is believed to have drowned her own children. How can she end our misery!" He looked at his wife, Radha who wiped her tears. The couple did not catch the priest turning away to give a discrete signal to someone on the other side of the banks. 

"Never underestimate the Mother River, Atirath." The priest kept his finger raised when he saw them turn. "Our minds are too puny to know what She ordains! I pray you return home with light hearts. She shall take care of everything." He glanced at the corner of his eye. Now was the moment!

"Lady Radha. She is a woman like you. Pour your heart to Her." He persisted pointing to the river, training the woman's gaze. He saw her nod and bow down to the river. He saw her eyes widen. Thank you Mother Ganga!

"Arya!" She screamed clutching Atirath's arm "An infant!"

In a flash, Atirath had jumped into the waters and swam towards the floating basket. Radha to walked into the waters behind him. 

On the banks, the priest saw the childless mother take the abandoned child to her bosom.

Two lives back in order. He sighed to himself and blessed the new 'family'.

A strange voice surprised them all. "Done Atirath?" The man in pale hue, dressed in silks smiled. His broad shoulders boasted of royal birth. His eyes retained the humility of the one truly brought up in noble household.

"Prince!" Atirath hurried towards him followed by Radha carrying their newly found son. "Forgive me for the trouble. We were just about to start. Mother Ganga has decided to finally bless us."

The Prince smiled a feeling of longing taking over him when he saw the infant. "You make me envious, Atirath. I could kill or die to have a son like that!"

"I am sure there is a worthy bride of noble birth waiting for you, My Lord Pandu, a bride who can mother heroes who would immortalize your name." Atirath bowed before following the Prince of Hastinapur towards Kashi. 

Pandu got onto his chariot and the couple boarded their own. A pair of eyes followed the progress of both the chariots till the horizon.

"Father, who is that Prince?" She asked.