Kunti and the Sun God- Boon
This work is also Chapter 3 of my work “UPKATHA” on Ao3, but updating it on Tumblr too.
Pritha could not stop thinking about Rishi Durvasa’s boon. She, Pritha, could summon any God at will! The very thought of it was intoxicating, and Pritha, in her curiosity, looked out for the earliest opportunity to use it.
Her long-awaited opportunity dawned one fine day. Her sakhi fervently advised her against her course of action, but Pritha was unfazed.
What is the worst that could happen? She thought.
(Oh, how she would rue that stubborn thought in the coming years…)
She was blessed with the divya dhristi of the Sun, as Surya Narayan himself blazed in his divine glory in front of her. The child still in her gloried as she chanted the mantra calling Surya deva to her.
Even as the last word left her lips, He stood in front of her. “O youthful girl of the flaring hips, I am yours to command. I shall give you a child as you desire.” A child? Pritha did not understand for a moment. Horrified understanding dawned on her the next second. The mantra. It was meant to summon a God to bequeath her a child. Pritha turned to the Deva. “My Lord,” she said tremulously, “I am a maiden just flowered, unwed still. I had called you out of childish curiosity, nothing else. Please forgive my innocent mistake, my Lord. Pray think of the dishonor that this would visit on my Father, my family and my people. I beg of you, Lord of the World, pray forgive a girlish fancy.” He looked unconvinced. His eyes are flashing when he says, “You dismiss me, then? The Gods will all laugh at me, foolish maiden! I cannot unleash my anger on you, but neither your family nor your people would be safe unless you give yourself to me.” Pritha shuts her eyes. When she opens them again, there is resigned determination in them.
“If you have a son in me, then they will not be harmed?” she asks. He nods. “Then I accede to you, my Lord, but on one condition. My son shall have divine protection, for I may not be able to give him any protection of my own.” “He shall have armor and earrings made of divine Amirtha.” Pritha nods. She shuts her eyes and lets him have his way with her, for what choice did she have?
Nine drawn-out months later, after hours of pain, Pritha brings her son into this world, alone and afraid, but for her Sakhi. Her head is spinning as she looks at the innocent baby in her arms, the baby she cannot keep. If she kept him, death was certain, for him as well as Pritha herself, for her adoptive father would never forgive so grievous a crime.
Tears spill from her eyes but she gently keeps the baby in a bassinet, covering him with her jewels. She lets the basket go, afloat on the Ganga, and turns her eyes on the Sun, far above, uncaring and unfeeling. She prays for the child’s safety, for his life, for there is nothing else she can do.
Finally, she turns her back on the floating basket. Grieved though she was, hers was a private grief. She would show it to no-one, and keep her head high, Pritha resolved. She would move on with her life.
