O highly fortunate sage Bhāradvāja, seeing the distress of Manorama and her young son Sudarshana, addressed his guest with gentle firmness. “Send him away to his home, O best of the twice-born. I will remain here with my son, like Jānakī, steadfast in my resolve.” Thus, Bhāradvāja made clear his intention to protect Manorama and Sudarshana. He then approached King Yudhājit and spoke with calm authority: “Go, O king, as you wish, to your own city. Manorama will not come with you—her heart is heavy with sorrow for her son.” But Yudhājit, unwilling to relent, replied, “O sage, abandon this stubbornness and send Manorama away. I will not depart without her, nor will I take her by force today.” Bhāradvāja answered, “Take her, if you are able, by force from my hermitage today, just as Viśvāmitra once tried to seize the cow from sage Vasiṣṭha.” The challenge was unmistakable. Vyāsa continues: Hearing these words, King Yudhājit summoned his aged minister and questioned him carefully. “O wise one, tell me what should be done today. I will take her by force, along with her son, that virtuous speaker. Even a weak enemy should not be disregarded by one who desires auspiciousness; for when grown, like royal consumption, he may lead to death. There is neither army nor warrior here to restrain me; I will seize and kill the enemy of my grandson. The kingdom will be free of thorns if I act by force today. Once Sudarshana is slain, my grandson will be fearless.” The chief minister replied with caution, “One should not act rashly, O king. You have heard the sage’s words. He spoke of Viśvāmitra’s example for a reason.” He then narrated the story: Long ago, the illustrious Viśvāmitra, son of Gādhi and renowned among kings, wandered to the hermitage of Vasiṣṭha. After bowing respectfully, Viśvāmitra was given a seat by the sage. Invited for a meal, the king stood with his army, and all kinds of food and delicacies were provided by Nandini, the divine cow. The king and his army ate to their satisfaction. Recognizing Nandini’s extraordinary power, Viśvāmitra approached Vasiṣṭha and requested the cow. “O sage, I will give you a thousand milking cows; please give me Nandini.” Vasiṣṭha replied, “This is my sacrificial cow, O king. I will not give her under any circumstances. Even a thousand cows may remain with you, but this one stays with me.” Viśvāmitra insisted, “I will give you ten thousand or a hundred thousand, whatever you desire. Give me Nandini, O virtuous one, or else I will seize her by force.” Vasiṣṭha responded, “Take her by force today, O king, as you wish; but I will not give Nandini to you willingly from my house.” Hearing this, Viśvāmitra ordered his mighty servants, “Take Nandini, the cow, you who are filled with pride in your strength.” The servants seized her harshly, restraining her. Trembling and tearful, Surabhi (Nandini) spoke to the sage, “O sage, why do you abandon me as they drag me away so harshly?” Vasiṣṭha replied, “I do not abandon you, O giver of excellent milk. The king is taking you by force today, though I have honored him. What can I do? I do not wish to abandon you in my heart.” Thus addressed, Nandini was filled with anger and let out a harsh, dreadful bellow. From her body emerged fierce demons, armed and clad in armor, shouting, “Stop! Stop!” These demons destroyed the entire army, and Nandini was freed. King Viśvāmitra departed alone, deeply distressed. Overwhelmed by sorrow, Viśvāmitra reproached the power of the warrior caste, realizing the Brahmin’s strength was difficult to attain. He resolved to undertake severe austerities, and after many years in the great forest, he abandoned the warrior’s path and attained the status of a sage. The minister concluded, “Therefore, O king, you too should not create extraordinary enmity. Conflict with ascetics brings destruction to one’s lineage. Go now to the eminent sage, comfort the treasury of austerity. Sudarshana may remain here as he pleases. This boy is destitute; what harm can he do to you? Your hostility toward this helpless, weak child is pointless. Compassion must be shown everywhere; this world is subject to fate. What is the use of envy? What is destined will certainly happen. By the workings of fate, a thunderbolt becomes like straw, and at times, straw becomes like a thunderbolt. A hare kills a tiger, and a mosquito slays an elephant. Abandon recklessness, O wise one, and follow my beneficial advice.” Vyāsa tells us that, hearing these words, King Yudhājit—the best among kings—bowed his head to the sage and returned to his own city. Manorama remained in the hermitage, caring for her son Sudarshana, who observed vows. Day by day, the prince Sudarshana grew in stature, playing among the children of sages, fearless and auspicious in every way. On one occasion, a cat approached; the sage’s son addressed it nearby, calling it ‘impotent.’ Sudarshana, hearing this, clearly pronounced the single syllable, with its nasal sound, and repeated it again and again. Thus, the days passed peacefully in the hermitage, with Sudarshana’s innocence shining forth.