Moved by the beauty and virtues of the ferryman’s daughter, Satyavati, her father spoke to King Shantanu with great respect and resolve: “O king, I have taken a vow regarding this maiden. No suitor equal to you will ever come for her, and I would gladly give her to you. Yet, having heard your request, O descendant of the Dasha line, I must consider carefully. If the conditions are met, I will give her, but otherwise, it cannot be.” He then set forth his condition: “The son born from Satyavati must be anointed king after you, O lord of the earth. No other may inherit the throne.” Shantanu, burning with desire for Satyavati, was nevertheless unable to grant this boon. Despite his longing, he could not agree to give up the throne for any son other than his own beloved Devavrata. Thus, his heart heavy and his mind troubled by thoughts of the ferryman’s daughter, the king returned to Hastinapura. Time passed, and Shantanu’s sorrow grew. One day, as he sat lost in grief and deep contemplation, his son Devavrata approached him. Noticing his father’s pallor and withdrawn state, Devavrata spoke gently: “Father, all the kings are obedient to you, and you are safe everywhere. Why do you grieve so deeply, lamenting again and again? You seem lost in thought, you do not speak to me, you no longer ride out with your horse, your color is faded, and you have grown thin, like a deer. I wish to know what afflicts you, so that I may act accordingly.” Shantanu, unable to speak at first, finally answered his son: “Indeed, my child, I am absorbed in thought. Listen as I tell you why. You alone are my child in this great lineage, O Bharata. You are steadfast in valor and devoted to arms, but I grieve over the impermanence of the worlds. If, O son of Ganga, some misfortune should befall you, our lineage would be lost. You alone are worth more than a hundred sons, yet I am unable, in vain, to take another wife. I desire the unbroken continuation of our line—may good befall you.” He continued, “The upholders of dharma say that to be childless or to have only one son is the same. The eye and the son are alike—sometimes present, sometimes not. When the eye is lost, the body perishes; when the son is lost, the lineage is destroyed. The agnihotra, the threefold Veda, and sacrifices with gifts—all these do not equal even a sixteenth part of having a child. So it is among men, and so among all creatures. I have no doubt about the value of offspring. By means of children, one is freed from the debt to the ancestors—of this there is no doubt. This is the eternal triad of the ancients and the gods: offspring, action, and knowledge—these are the three lights, O Bharata. You are brave, ever unyielding, and always devoted to arms, O Bharata; for you, there is no death anywhere except in battle. Therefore, I am troubled with doubt as to how there will be peace in you, O Shantanu. My son, I have told you fully the reason for my sorrow.” Devavrata, wise and discerning, pondered deeply on his father’s words and the cause of his distress. Filled with concern for his father’s wish for offspring and the continuation of their line, Devavrata summoned his father’s charioteer and addressed him: “You are my father’s charioteer and my friend, skilled in driving the chariot. If you know, tell me truly in whose heart the king’s affection lies.” The charioteer replied, “O best of the Kurus, the king’s affection is fixed upon the daughter of the ferryman. He wished to marry her, but her father set a condition: ‘The son born of her shall become king after you.’ At that time, your father did not wish to grant that boon, and the ferryman would not give her on any other terms.” Having learned the truth, Devavrata, understanding both his father’s longing and his duty, resolved to act. He set out toward the Yamuna, accompanied by righteous Kshatriyas of old who upheld dharma. There, he met the ferryman, Ucchaihshravas, and sought Satyavati’s hand on behalf of his father. The ferryman received Devavrata with due honor and, seating him in the royal assembly, spoke: “A royal bride-price must be given for this maiden by those who seek her; the son born of her shall be king after her father. You alone, mighty-armed one, are the increaser of Shantanu’s line, the best of warriors—what can I say to you? For the sake of the maiden’s bride-price, I must speak: who would desire such a connection, so difficult and blameworthy, and not regret it? Even Indra himself would not overstep it without remorse.” He continued, “The son born to this noble lady, equal to you in virtues, from whose seed Satyavati, of excellent complexion, has arisen—by him, your father has often been praised. That king, knower of dharma, is worthy to wed Satyavati. This Satyavati, the noble lady, spoke thus to your father; though the royal sage sought her, I once refused him. Yet, as the girl’s father, I must say something to you, O king: I see only the fault of strong rivalry here. I see this fault as greater in you, O unconquered one; for whoever has you as a rival, whether Gandharva or Asura—he would never live long if you were angered, O subduer of foes. This is the only fault here, O king; there is no other.” Thus, the matter of Satyavati’s hand and the future of the Kuru lineage stood before Devavrata, who had come to understand the depth of his father’s sorrow and the weight of his own dharma.