Dharmaja, eager to learn the mystery of the heavenly river’s descent, questioned the sage Romasa as to how King Bhageeradha had brought the celestial stream down to fill the ocean’s depths. The sage, serene in countenance, began his narration.
In ancient ages there reigned King Sagara of the Ikshvaku dynasty, conqueror of the mighty and merciless Haihayas, whose tyranny he overthrew. His rule was celebrated by all classes of beings, for justice prevailed and contentment pervaded his dominion. He had two queens—Kesini, princess of Vidarbha, and Sumati, daughter of Aristanemi. Yet, despite all splendour, the royal household was barren of heirs. Seeking divine favour, the king ascended Kailasa with his consorts and performed severe austerities to propitiate Lord Shiva. Moved by his devotion, the Lord appeared and granted him a boon: Vidarbhi would bear sixty thousand sons, while Saibya would bring forth one son, destined to uphold the lineage. But the boon came with prophecy—that the multitude born of pride would perish in a single day, while the solitary son would preserve the royal name.
Though blessed, the king found no joy in the foretelling. Returning home, he awaited the fulfilment of destiny. In due course, Vidarbhi brought forth not children but a strange fruit pulsating with life, while Saibya bore a child named Asamanjasa. Troubled and bewildered, Sagara prayed for guidance, and a divine voice instructed him to preserve the fruit in a vessel of ghee, promising that by the grace of the Mother Goddess, innumerable sons of immense strength would emerge. In time, sixty thousand children arose from that fruit, strong yet insolent, courageous yet untamed. Their pride knew no bounds; they traversed sky and earth, disturbing sages, men, and celestials alike. Their arrogance kindled fear across worlds, and the afflicted beings sought Brahma’s counsel. The Creator replied, “Let not your hearts be troubled; those who are consumed by vanity shall be destroyed by the fire of their own folly.”
Thus, destiny prepared its course. King Sagara, desirous of merit, undertook the Ashvamedha sacrifice. The consecrated horse was released to wander freely, guarded by his sons. In its wanderings it vanished beneath the dry bed of the ocean. Enraged, the princes began to dig deep into the earth, uprooting realms and slaying creatures in their reckless search. At last, in the northeast, they found the horse near the hermitage of the sage Kapila, radiant like a thousand suns, seated in tranquil meditation. Mistaking him for a thief, the sons of Sagara reviled him with harsh words and rushed to assault him. Roused by their insolence, the sage’s wrath blazed forth and reduced them all to ashes.
Narada carried the grievous news to Sagara. The king’s heart sank, yet he remembered Shiva’s forewarning and restrained his sorrow. Turning to his grandson Amsumantha, son of the cruel Asamanjasa—who in former days had tormented the innocent for sport—the aged monarch said, “My child, thy father’s sins have been avenged by fate. Yet the Ashvamedha lies incomplete. Go forth, recover the sacred horse, and bring peace to my soul.”
Amsumantha journeyed to the depths where the earth was cleft and beheld the luminous sage Kapila. With folded hands he offered reverence and supplication. Pleased with the prince’s humility, the sage said, “Take the horse, O noble one. Through thy lineage, the sons of Sagara shall find redemption. Thy grandson shall bring down Ganga, and her sacred waters shall cleanse their sins. The ocean shall be filled once more, and life shall flourish upon the earth.” Amsumantha returned with the horse, recounting the sage’s prophecy. Sagara completed his sacrifice, adopted the ocean as his son, and bestowed upon it the merit of the rite. Thereafter the ocean came to be called Sagara—the son of Sagara.
Having fulfilled his duties, the king entrusted the throne to Amsumantha and retired to the forest for penance. Amsumantha ruled wisely, upholding righteousness and promoting Vedic learning. In time, he installed his son Dilipa and departed to pursue spiritual life. Dilipa too sought to bring the divine river to earth for his ancestors’ salvation, yet the appointed task was beyond his reach.
In his lineage was born Bhageeradha, a monarch of steadfast will, famed for virtue, valor, and devotion. No adversity could turn him from his purpose. He subdued rival kings, upheld justice, and governed his vast realm with unmatched skill. But his heart was set upon one supreme vow—to liberate the souls of Sagara’s sons and restore sanctity to the world by bringing down the celestial Ganga.
He journeyed to the Himalayas, through frozen cliffs and radiant glaciers that gleamed like crystal under the sun’s soft veil of mist. The forests resounded with the songs of koels and the calls of peacocks; lions roared in caverns, and elephants trampled the thickets in their might. Yet Bhageeradha, unmoved by beauty or peril, pressed onward into the heart of the mountains. There, amidst crystal caves and gem-studded altars, he performed long austerities, living on fruits and leaves, chanting sacred hymns with unbroken concentration.
At length the goddess Ganga appeared, resplendent as moonlight on silver waves, and spoke gently, “O king of unwavering resolve, I am pleased by thy devotion. Yet know that if I descend unchecked, my torrent will shatter the earth. Only the great Lord Shiva can bear my descent. Seek his grace.”
Bhageeradha then turned to Kailasa, where he performed another round of austere penance. Lord Shiva, pleased by his sincerity, promised to receive Ganga upon his matted locks. The king returned and invoked the goddess once more. From the celestial realms she leapt forth in radiant streams, her waters sparkling like liquid light. She fell upon Shiva’s crown, where he caught her in his tangled hair, binding her motion in the coils of his ascetic power.
When Bhageeradha bowed in prayer, Shiva released a portion of her flow. With divine grace she followed the king’s chariot, gliding across mountains and plains, purifying all beings on her path. The holy stream reached the ashes of Sagara’s sons, sanctified them, and raised their spirits to heavenly realms. The ocean filled again, shimmering with divine essence, and the name of Bhageeradha shone immortal among men and gods alike.
Having thus concluded, sage Romasa said that Dharmaja, inspired by the tale, took sacred ablution in the rivers Nanda and Aparananda. The Pandavas, witnessing the marvel of fiery clouds over Mount Hemakuta, listened with wonder as the sage declared that the story of Sagara, Dilipa, and Bhageeradha is a timeless hymn to perseverance, faith, and righteous effort—teaching mankind that through devotion, endurance, and right purpose, even the impossible may be attained.
