As the sun dipped below the horizon, the company of sages, along with Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, prepared for their evening rites. They bathed, performed their sacred fire offerings, and then, led by the illustrious Viśvāmitra, those of immeasurable energy gathered and seated themselves. Rāma, accompanied by Saumitri (Lakṣmaṇa), paid due respect to the assembled sages and took his place before the wise Viśvāmitra. A gentle curiosity arose in Rāma’s heart as he gazed upon the land around them, lush with flourishing forests. Turning to Viśvāmitra, radiant and mighty, Rāma spoke with reverence, “Revered one, what is this land, so beautifully adorned with forests? I wish to know—please tell me truly about it.” Thus addressed, the virtuous Viśvāmitra, surrounded by the assembly of seers, began to narrate the history of that sacred land. “There was once a great ascetic named Kuśa, born from Brahma himself. He was steadfast in his vows, a knower of righteousness, and honored by the virtuous. This great soul, endowed with immense strength, begot four worthy sons through a noble and virtuous woman from Vidarbha. Their names were Kuśāmba, Kuśanābha, Asūrtarajas, and Vasu—each radiant, energetic, and intent on upholding the duties of the warrior class. Kuśa addressed his sons, who were righteous and truthful, saying, ‘My sons, govern well; by upholding righteousness, you will obtain great merit.’ Obedient to their father’s words, the four noble princes each established their own cities. Kuśāmba, of great splendor, founded the city of Kauśāmbī; Kuśanābha, righteous in soul, established Mahodaya; Asūrtarajas, the king, built Dharmāraṇya; and Vasu, the ruler, founded the excellent city of Girivraja. O Rāma, this very land where we now sit is the realm of the great Vasu. All around you shine five excellent mountains, and through them flows the delightful river Sumāgadhī, famed among the Māgadhas. Like a garland, she graces the midst of these five chief mountains. This, O Rāma, is the Māgadhī river of the great Vasu, long frequented, fertile, and abundant with crops. Kuśanābha, the royal sage righteous in soul, begot a hundred incomparable daughters with Ghṛtācī, O descendant of Raghu. These maidens, adorned with youth and beauty, splendidly decorated, entered the garden grounds like a hundred rivers in the rainy season. Singing, dancing, and playing instruments, adorned with fine ornaments, they experienced supreme delight. Beautiful in every limb, unmatched in form on earth, they moved through the gardens like stars among the clouds. As the maidens wandered, the wind-god, lord of all beings, beheld them and spoke, ‘I desire you all; you shall become my wives. Abandon your human state, and you will attain long life. Youth is fleeting among humans, but you will obtain unfading youth and become immortal.’ Hearing these words of the wind-god, the hundred maidens laughed and replied, ‘O best of the gods, you move within all beings; all are aware of your power. Why, then, do you disregard us? We are the daughters of Kuśanābha, and we practice austerity to protect ourselves from being removed from our proper place. Let not such a time come, O misguided one, when you would dishonor our truthful father. We ourselves, following our own duty, seek a husband through him. For our father is our lord and our highest deity; whoever our father gives us to, he shall be our husband.’ Hearing their steadfast words, the god Hari, greatly enraged, entered all their bodies and broke them, the blessed lord, the powerful one. Their bodies, broken by the wind and reduced to the size of a finger, terrified, the maidens entered their father’s house, agitated and modest, their eyes filled with tears. Seeing his beloved daughters broken and distressed, the king was greatly troubled and spoke, ‘What is this? Tell me, daughters. Who has disregarded righteousness? By whom have you all been made crooked? You move about but do not speak.’ Thus the king, sighing deeply, composed himself and waited for their reply. The hundred maidens, hearing their father’s words, touched his feet with their heads and spoke, ‘O king, the wind, who pervades all, sought to violate us, following an unrighteous path. We are under our father’s authority, O blessed one; we are not independent. Choose our father; if he gives us to you, then we are yours. Because he did not accept our words, bound to sin, and as we spoke thus, we were all struck harshly by the wind.’ Hearing this, the supremely righteous king, radiant in his wisdom, replied to his daughters, ‘Patience is the greatest duty of those who are forbearing, my daughters. You have acted in unity and preserved our lineage. Adornment is for women, but patience is for men; yet such forbearance is difficult even for the gods. Such patience as you all have shown, my daughters, without exception—patience is charity, patience is truth, patience is sacrifice, O daughters.’ Thus, Viśvāmitra recounted the tale of the noble king Kuśanābha and his virtuous daughters, their steadfastness and forbearance shining as an example for all.