When the divine being vanished from his sight, King Shantanu was left troubled, his mind swirling with anxious thoughts. Standing alone, yet composed and focused, the king turned his mind to praise the goddess Ganga, offering her his heartfelt reverence. In that sacred moment, Ganga herself appeared before him, radiant and beautiful in every limb. The king, beholding her divine form, spoke to her with humility and longing. Ganga addressed him with gentle compassion: “I now place this son of Ganga, great in austerity, into your hands. He will bring fame to your lineage and will be devoted to you. This son of yours has been raised in the divine hermitage of Vasishtha. What Jamadagni knows of the Vedas, your son knows as well.” Having spoken these words, Ganga entrusted the child to Shantanu and then vanished from his sight, her task fulfilled. The king, overwhelmed with joy and love, embraced his son and affectionately smelled his head, as is the ancient gesture of a father’s blessing. Filled with happiness, the king journeyed to Gajahvaya, where he organized a splendid festival. He gathered together all his people and his most auspicious ministers. In the presence of all, he installed his son—endowed with every virtue—as the crown prince. At this point, Suta, the storyteller, addressed his audience: “Thus has the birth of Gangeya, the origin from Jahnavi, been told. The sacred descent of Ganga and the origin of the Vasus have also been recounted. This holy and pure narrative has been narrated, O best of sages. The glorious Bhagavata, filled with sacred and various stories, has been told. For those who listen, it destroys all sins, brings auspiciousness, and bestows happiness.” The sages, eager for more, then spoke: “The origin of the Vasus, brought about by a curse, and the birth of Gangeya have been narrated by Lomaharshana. But tell us now, O wise one, about Vyasa’s mother, Satyavati—virtuous and fragrant—how did she become the wife of King Shantanu? Please describe in detail how the daughter of a ferryman was accepted by the king, foremost in dharma. Resolve this doubt for us, O virtuous one.” Suta replied: “Shantanu, the royal sage, was ever fond of hunting. He often ventured into the forest, pursuing deer, buffaloes, and antelopes. For four years, the king enjoyed happiness with his son, just as Shiva does with his own child. One day, while shooting arrows and hunting boars and wild pigs, Shantanu entered a certain forest and came upon the river Kalindi, the best of streams. There, he was suddenly enveloped by an indescribable, excellent fragrance. Curious and enchanted, he wandered through the forest, seeking the source of this wondrous scent. He reflected, ‘This fragrance is not of mandāra, nor of musk from the deer, nor of campaka, nor of mālatī, nor of ketakī—none are so delightful. Nor has such a pure, fragrant breeze ever been experienced before. From where does this wind come, so bewildering to my sense of smell?’ Driven by desire to find its source, Shantanu followed the breeze through the woods. There, on the riverbank, he beheld a woman of lovely appearance, modest and beautiful, standing firm in soiled garments. Her dark, enchanting eyes captivated him, and the king realized with certainty that the exquisite fragrance emanated from her very body. Her wondrous form was exceedingly beautiful, and the fragrance she bore was esteemed by the whole world. She was in the freshness of youth, and the king was truly amazed at the sight of her. He wondered, ‘Who is she, and from where has she come? Is she a celestial maiden or a human woman? Perhaps the daughter of the Gandharvas, or a Nāga maiden? How is she, so fragrant and desirable?’ Though he pondered these questions, the king could reach no conclusion. Remembering Ganga and overcome by desire, he approached the lovely woman on the riverbank and asked, ‘Who are you, dear one? Whose daughter are you? For what reason are you here, O beautiful-thighed one, alone in this deserted place? Tell me, charming-eyed one, are you married or unmarried?’ He continued, ‘Desire has arisen in me, O wide-eyed one, seeing you, so lovely and enchanting. Tell me, dear, what you intend to do, where you are going—tell me everything in detail.’ Hearing the king’s words, the sweet-smiling, lotus-eyed maiden replied with a gentle smile: ‘Know me, O king, as the daughter of a ferryman, a maiden abiding by her father’s command. I am here, ferrying this boat for the sake of duty, upon the water. My father has gone home today—this is the truth I speak before you, O lord of wealth.’ After she spoke, the maiden fell silent. But the king, overcome by desire, addressed her again: ‘Make me, O noble lady, the foremost of the Kurus, your husband—let not your youth go to waste in vain. I have no other wife; be my lawful wife, doe-eyed one. I am your servant, always under your control. O dear one, the god of love torments me. My beloved has left me and gone away; I have chosen no other, and I am forlorn, O beautiful one. Seeing you, so lovely in every limb, my mind has become utterly captivated.’ Hearing these nectar-sweet and delightful words of the king, the ferryman’s daughter, pure in disposition, composed herself with great courage and addressed the king, Sugandhā, with gentle words.