O King Śantanu, having fallen in love with Satyavatī, approached her with the hope of marriage. But Satyavatī, gentle and wise, replied, “O king, your words are just as you say; yet I am not independent. My father is the giver—please seek his consent quickly.” She continued, “Though I am the daughter of a ferryman, I always act under my father’s authority. If my renowned father gives his consent, then take my hand—I will be yours.” She added thoughtfully, “O king, the god of love troubles you as he does me, now that I am in the bloom of youth. But even in such matters, one must preserve self-control and uphold the traditions of the family.” Hearing Satyavatī’s words, the king, overwhelmed by desire, went straight to the house of the ferryman to make his request. The ferryman, astonished to see the king approach, bowed with joined palms and said, “I am your servant, O king; your arrival fulfills my wishes. Command me, great king—what is the purpose of your coming here?” Śantanu replied, “O sinless one, if you give her to me, I will make your daughter my lawful wife. I speak this truthfully to you.” The ferryman answered, “O king, if you desire my precious daughter, I am ready to give her; but she is not to be given under ordinary terms. Her son, O great king, must become king after you; he alone must be anointed as your successor—no other son of yours.” Hearing these words, the king became anxious and troubled, thinking of Gāṅgeya (his son Devavrata), and did not reply at that time. Tormented by desire and filled with worry, Śantanu returned home, neither bathing, eating, nor sleeping after entering his house. Seeing his father so troubled, Devavrata approached him and asked, “Who is this unconquerable enemy, O king, whom I should subdue for you? What is your worry, tiger among kings? Speak the truth, best of rulers. What is the use of a son who neither knows suffering nor removes it? He has come to take on the debt from a previous birth—there is no doubt. Even Rāma, son of Daśaratha, gave up the kingdom at his father’s command and went to the forest with Lakṣmaṇa and Jānakī, to Citrakūṭa. The son of King Hariścandra, Rohita, was sold by his father and given to a brāhmaṇa’s house. Similarly, Śunaḥśepa, son of Jīgarta, was bought by his father, bound to the sacrificial post, and later released by the son of Gādhi. Jāmadagnya, at his father’s command, once cut off his mother’s head. Though it was wrongful, he did it, for the guru’s command is weightier. O king, this body of yours—I am surely not worthy of it. Tell me, what shall I do? While I am here, you need not grieve; I will accomplish even the impossible for you. Tell me, king, what is your worry? Today I will remove it, taking up my bow. If my body can fulfill your purpose, let your wish not go in vain. Shame upon that son who, though capable, does not fulfill his father’s desired purpose; what use is there in such a son, who, though born, does not relieve his father’s anxiety?” Hearing these words, King Śantanu, feeling embarrassed, quickly addressed his son. “Great is my anxiety, my son, for you are my only child; you are brave, exceedingly strong, and proud, yet you turn away from battle. My life depends on having only one son; if you die in battle somewhere, what will I do, left without support? This is my great concern, and because of it I am sorrowful today; there is no other worry I have, my son, which I speak before you.” Devavrata, hearing this, asked the aged ministers, “The king does not speak to me, overwhelmed by embarrassment today. Ask the king about his concerns, and with certainty speak the truth to me; tell me everything, and I will act without hesitation.” The ministers went to the king, learned the reason, and informed Devavrata, who then pondered the matter. Together with them, Devavrata quickly went to the house of the fisherman. Bowing with affection, the son of Jahnavi (Gāṅgeya) spoke, “Give your daughter to my father today, I request the fair-waisted one; let her be my mother, and I will be her servant, O scorcher of foes.” The fisherman replied, “Take her, O greatly fortunate one, make her your wife, O prince; but her son shall not become king while you are alive.” Devavrata declared, “This daughter of the fisherman shall be my mother; I will not take the kingdom; her son will certainly rule, without doubt.” The fisherman said, “I know your words are true; your son will be strong, and surely, by his strength, he will take the kingdom.” Devavrata solemnly vowed, “I will certainly not marry, in any way; my words are true, O father, I have taken the vow of Bhīṣma.” Hearing this vow, the fisherman gave Satyavatī, radiant in all limbs, to the king. Thus, Satyavatī was united with Śantanu; the noble king did not know the further birth of Vyāsa. In time, two sons were born to Satyavatī and Śantanu, but both died due to the force of time. From Vyāsa’s seed, Dhṛtarāṣṭra was born, who was blind, for when the sage was seen, the desirous woman closed her eyes. Because she appeared in a white form when she saw Vyāsa, the king’s daughter, Pandu was born from Vyāsa’s anger—of this there is no doubt. Vyāsa, pleased by her, through the maidservant who knew the art of desire, begot Vidura, who was a portion of Dharma, truthful and pure. Thus, the lineage of kings and the births of Yudhiṣṭhira and others came to be, continuing the sacred tradition and fulfilling the wishes of ancestors and the commands of destiny.