As the story unfolds, the sage addressed his son, saying, “These seven, carried by the wind, my child, may roam the heavens as they please. Let them be known as the Maruts—divine in form, my very own offspring.” He continued, “Of these, let one dwell in the world of Brahmā, another in the realm of Indra, and the third, famed as Divyavāyu, shall also be renowned among all beings. The remaining four, O best of gods, by your command, will roam the four directions. May good fortune be yours; in due course, these are my sons. By your deed, they shall be celebrated as the Maruts.” Hearing these words, Indra, the thousand-eyed Purandara, slayer of Bala, joined his palms in reverence and replied, “All shall be as you have spoken, without a doubt. Your sons, radiant and divine, will move as you wish.” Thus, with their agreement sealed, mother and son, having accomplished their purpose, departed from the forest of austerities and ascended to heaven. O Rāma, it is told that this very place was once inhabited by Mahendra himself. Here, Diti, steadfast in her austerities, once moved about. And in this sacred land, O tiger among men and descendant of Ikṣvāku, a supremely righteous scion was born—Viśāla, son of Alambuṣā. In this very place, he founded the city called Viśālā. Viśāla’s lineage flourished: his son was the mighty Hemacandra, followed by his illustrious son Sucandra. Sucandra’s son was the renowned Dhūmrāśva, and his son was Sṛñjaya. Sṛñjaya’s son was the glorious and powerful Sahadeva, whose own son was Kuśāśva, a paragon of righteousness. Kuśāśva’s son was the great and formidable Somadatta, succeeded by his famous son, Kākutstha. Today, Kākutstha’s brilliant son, Sumati—unconquerable and celebrated—dwells in this city. By the grace of Ikṣvāku, all the kings of Vaiśālī have been long-lived, noble, valiant, and supremely righteous. Here, tonight, we shall rest comfortably; and tomorrow morning, O best of men, you should go to see Janaka. Meanwhile, Sumati, resplendent and renowned, heard of Viśvāmitra’s arrival. Returning swiftly, he came to welcome the sage, accompanied by his teachers and kin. With joined palms, after inquiring after Viśvāmitra’s welfare, he spoke warmly: “Blessed and favored am I, O sage, that you have entered my land. Having seen you, there is none more fortunate than I.” Now, listen to the next chapter in the glorious Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki. After exchanging kind inquiries, Sumati turned to the great sage and asked, “May you be blessed—who are these two youths, equal to the gods in valor? Their gait is like that of elephants and lions; they are heroic, resembling tigers and bulls. With eyes as wide as lotus petals, bearing swords, quivers, and bows, they stand in the fullness of youth, radiant as the Aśvins in beauty. Arrived here unexpectedly, like immortals from the world of the gods, how have they come on foot, for what purpose, and whose sons are they, O sage? They adorn this land as the moon and sun adorn the sky, matched in stature, bearing, and movement. For what reason have these best of men come upon this difficult path, bearing excellent weapons? I wish to know the truth.” Hearing these words, Viśvāmitra recounted all that had transpired: their stay at Siddhāśrama, the slaying of the Rākṣasas, and all the deeds performed by the two princes. The king listened in amazement to Viśvāmitra’s account and welcomed the two sons of Daśaratha with the highest honors, as befitted their worth and might. Having received the utmost hospitality from the noble-minded Sumati, the two Raghavas, after spending a restful night, continued their journey toward Mithilā. Upon beholding the auspicious city of Janaka, all the sages praised Mithilā, exclaiming “Excellent, excellent!” and honored her greatly. In a grove near Mithilā, Rāghava noticed an ancient, deserted, and charming hermitage. He turned to the foremost of sages and asked, “O venerable one, this place resembles a hermitage, yet why is it devoid of ascetics? Whose hermitage was this, I wish to know.” Viśvāmitra, skilled in speech, replied, “Indeed, I shall tell you, Rāghava. Listen well to whose hermitage this was, and why it stands deserted, for it was cursed in anger by a great soul. This was once the hermitage of the illustrious Gautama, O best of men, radiant as the gods and revered even by them. Here, long ago, with Ahalyā by his side, he practiced austerities for thousands of years. Knowing Gautama’s absence, Indra, lord of Śacī, took on the guise of a sage and approached Ahalyā. He spoke, ‘Those who desire union, O slender-waisted one, wait for the proper season with composure; but I desire union with you now.’ Recognizing Indra in the form of a sage, yet lacking sound judgment and curious about the king of the gods, Ahalyā consented. When their union was complete, she said to Indra, ‘I am satisfied, O lord of gods; now go quickly from here, O master.