Having carefully reflected on the path of righteousness, Bhishma—well-versed in duty and ever-counseling with Brahmins accomplished in the Vedas—consented to the marriage of the eldest daughter of the King of Kashi, as was proper. With the rites prescribed by law, Bhishma then gave Ambika and Ambalika, the two princesses, as wives to his younger brother, Vichitravirya. Vichitravirya, proud of his youth and beauty, joyfully accepted the hands of Ambika and Ambalika. Yet, though righteous, he harbored no desire for Amba, the eldest sister. Amba herself, reflecting on her predicament, spoke of the futility of improper desire, saying that enjoyment not freely chosen could not be urged upon her. She reminded Bhishma that the line of Shantanu, from whom he was descended, should continue with righteousness and without desire, and she accepted his view as just. After these words, Bhishma looked upon Amba and addressed her according to the law: “You are free, blameless one. Go wherever you wish.” He explained that he could not command his brother against his will, nor could anyone keep a woman in his house who desired another. Thus, he would not appoint her to Vichitravirya, for she had already given her heart elsewhere. Bhishma, too, reminded her of his vow of lifelong celibacy and withdrawal from marriage. Thus released, Amba departed, accompanied by her companions. She journeyed toward the city of the King of Salva. Upon reaching Salva, she honored him and spoke, “Once chosen for you, I have come, noble one, leaving behind Devavrata (Bhishma) and his brother, the bull among the Bharatas. Accept me, for I come to you in accordance with the law.” But Salva, laughing, replied, “You were won by Bhishma, who defeated me among the assembled kings. Conquered by another and released by him, I cannot accept you. Return there.” Rejected, Amba returned to the mighty Kuru kingdom and stood before Bhishma. She said, “You seized me by force. According to the duty of a kshatriya, you are my husband, for whichever man wins a maiden at her svayamvara by valor must marry her. Having defeated all the kings, you alone are my husband; therefore, marry me, whom you have won in the assembly.” But Bhishma, bound by his vow of celibacy, replied again and again that he could not marry her. Amba pleaded, reminding him of his promise, and for six years she followed Bhishma, seeking his acceptance. Yet Bhishma remained firm: “I have renounced marriage and maintain celibacy, gentle lady. Go to Salva, whom you had chosen in your heart before. Why did you declare yourself for another? No one should accept a bride who is devoted elsewhere. I will not marry you, nor will I give you to my brother Vichitravirya. Go wherever you wish.” Once more, Amba approached Salva, saying, “O king, accept me.” But Salva rejected her again, saying, “I do not accept one won by another.” Thus, Amba was refused by both Bhishma and Salva. For six years, Amba wandered between Bhishma and Salva, her heart heavy with sorrow, shedding tears upon the earth. She grieved deeply, her noble mind troubled. Radiant in beauty, with full breasts, broad hips, and wide eyes, her face shone like the full moon, and her hair trembled like a kadamba tree in the rain. Determined, Amba undertook severe austerities by the river near the Himalayas for twelve years. She restrained her actions, stood steadfast on her big toe, and her penance became so intense that the gods themselves trembled. Amazed and delighted by her austerity, one among the gods resolved to grant her a boon. Anantasena, the blessed Kumara—lord and granter of boons—appeared before her, honored her, and gave her a beautiful garland. He spoke: “This divine lotus garland has appeared as it should. Amba, this garland will be on earth to relieve your sorrow. Whoever wears this garland, which I have given, will be the cause of Bhishma’s death.” Amba, still grieving, lamented, “Salva, in his folly, does not accept me because of my prior attachment to another. I am bereft of righteousness and desire, bearing sorrow. Without a husband, I call out to all Kshatriyas. This garland of yours, O Kshatriyas, will slay Bhishma. I will be the wife of the one who kills Bhishma.” For five more years, Amba wandered, seeking refuge among the Kshatriyas, but none dared shelter her, fearing Bhishma’s might. At last, she went to the renowned Somaka among the Panchalas. There, at the assembly doorway, guarded by the Panchalas, stood the steadfast, great-armed king, ever devoted to righteousness. Amba cried out, recalling how Bhishma had seized her, likening herself to one sinking in a deep pool. She called upon Yajnasena, the king of the Panchalas, to take her hand and lift her up, for in this lay the preservation of her duties and happiness. Yet, she lamented, both worlds and her fame had been seized, and she found no Kshatriya protector anywhere.