east, and already his slanted rays set her currents alight. Viswamitra went on slowly while his rishis and the princes listened absorbed; he spoke with such quiet passion.
âFive mountains grace the kingdom of Vasumati, and the river that springs in Magadha flows between them like a garland of pearls flung across the earth. Kusaâs eldest son, Kusanabha, had a hundred daughters by his seed, which was in part the seed of Brahma. He gave his daughters to the Rishi Brahmadatta to be his wives. Then he wanted a son, so he performed a yagna. During that ritual his father Kusa appeared before him and said, âYou will have a son, and his fame will resound through the world!â
âKusanabhaâs son, who became the mightiest of the olden kings of the earth, was Gadhi, the great.â
Now Viswamitra spoke as softly as the silver river flowed. When Rama and Lakshmana looked into his face in the moonlight, they saw his eyes had brimmed over. He wiped them briefly with the back of his hand. He said with a wistful smile, âRama, Gadhi was my father.â He paused, then continued, âI had an older sister called Satyavati. I loved her more than anyone in the world. She was my first friend, and my first guru. From her earliest years, she was wiser than any other child. She gave me something of her soul, which was my first instruction of heaven.
âMy father gave her to be the rishi Richakaâs wife. But she was so pure, and always with the Lordâs name on her lips and his love in her heart, that she was not meant to live in this world for long. She gained Swarga in her human body. And from her love, she flowed upon the earth as a river: the Kaushiki of the Himalaya. It is on the banks of the Kaushiki that I sit in tapasya. Rama, how can I describe the peace that comes to me when I am there? It is as if my sister held me in her arms, as she used to when I was a child.
âBut then, I was called south from my home beside the river in the mountains. I was to perform a sacrifice to stem a tide of evil risen in the world. I came down to Siddhasrama, as my masters of the spirit told me to. And you came to help me; otherwise I could never have completed my yagna.
âYou asked whose kingdom this is. It was mine once, Rama, when I was a king as you shall be one day. But all that is past now.
âLook how high the moon has risen; half the night is over. The river and the trees, the birds in the branches and the beasts of the woods are all asleep, wrapped in covers of darkness. Only bhutas, pretas, and pisachas, for whom night is day and moonlight their sunshine, are abroad under the sky of a thousand eyes. Sleep now, my friends, and you also, children of Ayodhya. Sleep securely, for we are protected, and we must be on our way at crack of dawn.â
He stretched his long limbs by the river, which scarcely gave a murmur now, and, turning on his side, fell quickly asleep. Yawning, Lakshmana and the other rishis lay down as well. They found they were exhausted after the dayâs long march and only the fascination of Viswamitraâs story had kept them awake.
Rama sat alone for another hour, gazing at the moon reflected clear in the river, which was still as a lake now. He sat pondering the strange fates of men and his own long way ahead of him. It was opaque, yet mysteriously attractive; quite like a river, on which the days and years were slow ripples, gliding endlessly, with the moon splayed across them. But there are treacherous whirlpools along every riverâs course, and Rama wondered idly when they would spin into his life.
Soon, he also lay down beside his brother and slumber stole over him.
Â
13. Ganga
The birds of day were full of song, a hundred wild symphonies in the branches, and the river was awake under the risen sun, when Viswamitra shook the sleeping princes awake. âCome, we have a long way to go.â
When they had washed, Rama pointed upstream and said,
âFive mountains grace the kingdom of Vasumati, and the river that springs in Magadha flows between them like a garland of pearls flung across the earth. Kusaâs eldest son, Kusanabha, had a hundred daughters by his seed, which was in part the seed of Brahma. He gave his daughters to the Rishi Brahmadatta to be his wives. Then he wanted a son, so he performed a yagna. During that ritual his father Kusa appeared before him and said, âYou will have a son, and his fame will resound through the world!â
âKusanabhaâs son, who became the mightiest of the olden kings of the earth, was Gadhi, the great.â
Now Viswamitra spoke as softly as the silver river flowed. When Rama and Lakshmana looked into his face in the moonlight, they saw his eyes had brimmed over. He wiped them briefly with the back of his hand. He said with a wistful smile, âRama, Gadhi was my father.â He paused, then continued, âI had an older sister called Satyavati. I loved her more than anyone in the world. She was my first friend, and my first guru. From her earliest years, she was wiser than any other child. She gave me something of her soul, which was my first instruction of heaven.
âMy father gave her to be the rishi Richakaâs wife. But she was so pure, and always with the Lordâs name on her lips and his love in her heart, that she was not meant to live in this world for long. She gained Swarga in her human body. And from her love, she flowed upon the earth as a river: the Kaushiki of the Himalaya. It is on the banks of the Kaushiki that I sit in tapasya. Rama, how can I describe the peace that comes to me when I am there? It is as if my sister held me in her arms, as she used to when I was a child.
âBut then, I was called south from my home beside the river in the mountains. I was to perform a sacrifice to stem a tide of evil risen in the world. I came down to Siddhasrama, as my masters of the spirit told me to. And you came to help me; otherwise I could never have completed my yagna.
âYou asked whose kingdom this is. It was mine once, Rama, when I was a king as you shall be one day. But all that is past now.
âLook how high the moon has risen; half the night is over. The river and the trees, the birds in the branches and the beasts of the woods are all asleep, wrapped in covers of darkness. Only bhutas, pretas, and pisachas, for whom night is day and moonlight their sunshine, are abroad under the sky of a thousand eyes. Sleep now, my friends, and you also, children of Ayodhya. Sleep securely, for we are protected, and we must be on our way at crack of dawn.â
He stretched his long limbs by the river, which scarcely gave a murmur now, and, turning on his side, fell quickly asleep. Yawning, Lakshmana and the other rishis lay down as well. They found they were exhausted after the dayâs long march and only the fascination of Viswamitraâs story had kept them awake.
Rama sat alone for another hour, gazing at the moon reflected clear in the river, which was still as a lake now. He sat pondering the strange fates of men and his own long way ahead of him. It was opaque, yet mysteriously attractive; quite like a river, on which the days and years were slow ripples, gliding endlessly, with the moon splayed across them. But there are treacherous whirlpools along every riverâs course, and Rama wondered idly when they would spin into his life.
Soon, he also lay down beside his brother and slumber stole over him.
Â
13. Ganga
The birds of day were full of song, a hundred wild symphonies in the branches, and the river was awake under the risen sun, when Viswamitra shook the sleeping princes awake. âCome, we have a long way to go.â
When they had washed, Rama pointed upstream and said,
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