Although Pandu was the younger of the two royal brothers, it was he whom the wise ministers established as king, for Dhritarashtra, the elder, was blind and therefore not given the authority to rule. With the approval of the venerable Bhishma, Pandu, mighty and virtuous, ascended the throne, and Vidura, known for his intelligence, was appointed as the royal counselor. Dhritarashtra had two wives: Gandhari, the noble daughter of King Subala, and a second wife, a woman of the Vaishya caste, who was steadfast in her household duties. Pandu, too, had two wives, as declared by the Vedic scholars: Kunti, the daughter of Shurasena, and Madri, who hailed from the land of Madra. Gandhari gave birth to a hundred sons, radiant in their splendor, while the Vaishya wife bore a single, beloved son named Yuyutsu. Kunti, even before her marriage to Pandu, had borne a son—Karna, handsome and noble—from the Sun God, while still a maiden in her father’s house. Hearing this, the sages were astonished. They addressed Suta, the storyteller: “O Suta, most excellent among sages, what wondrous tale is this you tell? How was a son born to Kunti before her marriage to Pandu? How was Karna born from the Sun while she was still a maiden? Tell us in detail—how could she remain a maiden and then wed Pandu?” The Suta replied: Kunti, daughter of Shurasena, was requested as a maiden by King Kuntibhoja, who adopted her as his own daughter. With a gentle smile, Kunti was appointed to serve the radiant sage Durvasa, who arrived during the four-month sacred vow. Kunti served Durvasa with devotion, pleasing him greatly. In gratitude, the sage bestowed upon her a sacred mantra, by which, when invoked, any god would appear and fulfill her desires. After Durvasa departed, Kunti, curious and alone at home, decided to test the mantra. She wondered which god she should invoke. At that moment, the Sun arose before her. Reciting the mantra, she called upon the blazing deity, who descended from his orb in the sky, taking on a human form of surpassing beauty and appearing in her chamber. Kunti was astonished at the sight of the Sun God. Trembling, she immediately experienced the consequence of her womanhood. With joined palms and shining eyes, she spoke: “I am greatly pleased by your appearance today; now, please return to your own realm.” The Sun replied, “Kunti, by the power of your mantra, I have been summoned. Why have you called me here, yet do not honor me as I stand before you? O dark-eyed one, I am overcome with desire; unite with me, filled with devotion. By your mantra, I am under your control—take me now to enjoy together.” Kunti answered, “I am a maiden, O knower of righteousness, and I bow to you, the witness of all. I am not to be reproached, for I am a noble family's daughter, O virtuous one.” The Sun insisted, “Today I would feel great shame if I were to leave in vain; without doubt, I would become the talk of all the gods. Today I shall curse the brahmin who gave you the mantra, and you as well, Kunti, most severely, if you do not unite with me. Your maidenhood will remain intact; people will not know of this, O beautiful-faced one. And your son, equal to me, will be born to you.” Thus, after speaking, the Sun united with Kunti, who was deeply modest and absorbed in thought, granting her the boon she desired and then departing. Kunti bore the embryo in secret, hidden away in a chamber known only to her nurse and dearest companion—not her mother, nor anyone else. The son was born secretly within the house, exceedingly charming, adorned with radiant armor and earrings. He shone like a second Sun or another celestial youth. Deeply ashamed, Kunti placed him in her nurse’s hands. The nurse comforted her: “Why do you worry, O slender-armed one? I am here.” Kunti, placing her son in a box, spoke sorrowful words: “What am I to do, tormented for my son? I must abandon you, my beloved as life itself. Unfortunate as I am, I give up you, endowed with every auspicious mark.” Praying for his safety, she said, “May the Goddess, with and without qualities, the supreme Lady Ambika, protect you; may the World-Mother Katyayani, fulfiller of wishes, give you her milk. When will I see your beautiful lotus face, worthy of my dearest love? Abandoning you, O son of the Sun, in the lonely forest, I am as wicked as a wanton woman. In a previous birth, I did not worship the Mother of the three worlds, nor did I long meditate on the bliss-giving lotus feet of auspicious Devi. Therefore, O son, I am always unfortunate; abandoning you again in the forest, I shall perform penance, remembering the sin I have knowingly committed.” After speaking thus, Kunti placed her son in the box, and, fearful of being seen, entrusted him to the nurse. Frightened, Kunti bathed and remained in her father’s house. The box, sent away, was discovered by Adhiratha, the charioteer. Radha, his wife, earnestly desired a son, and so Karna, strong and heroic, was raised in the charioteer’s household. Later, Kunti, still a maiden, was wedded to Pandu in her own svayamvara, and Madri, the auspicious daughter of the king of Madra, became Pandu’s second wife. While delighting in hunting in the forest, Pandu, mighty and skilled, mistakenly slew a sage who was enjoying himself, thinking him to be a deer. Enraged, the sage cursed Pandu: “If you unite with a woman, then surely death will come to you.” Afflicted by the curse, Pandu abandoned his kingdom and dwelt in the forest, overwhelmed by sorrow. Kunti and Madri, his two devoted wives, followed him, intent on serving him and upholding the highest dharma, accompanied by noble sages. Residing on the banks of the sacred Ganga, Pandu stayed in the hermitages of sages, listening to scriptures on dharma and performing severe austerities.