As evening descended, Viśvāmitra spoke warmly to Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, “Here, tonight, we shall sleep comfortably for one night; tomorrow morning, O best of men, you should see Janaka.” Word quickly spread that the great sage had arrived, and Sumati, a man of great splendor and renown, returned to his city. Eager to honor his distinguished guest, Sumati, accompanied by his teachers and relatives, greeted Viśvāmitra with joined palms, inquiring after his welfare and showing him the highest respect. With heartfelt reverence, Sumati said to Viśvāmitra, “Blessed am I, and favored am I, O sage, whose land you have entered; having seen you, there is none more fortunate than I.” After these warm exchanges, and as their conversation drew to a close, Sumati’s gaze fell upon the two radiant youths accompanying the sage. With curiosity and admiration, he asked, “May you be blessed—who are these two youths, equal to the gods in valor, whose gait is like that of elephants and lions, heroic, resembling tigers and bulls? Their eyes are wide as lotus petals, and they bear swords, quivers, and bows. In the fullness of youth, they stand as beautiful as the Aśvins. They have arrived here by chance, like immortals from the world of the gods. How have they come here on foot, for what purpose, and whose sons are they, O sage? They adorn this land as the moon and sun adorn the sky, alike in stature, bearing, and movement. For what reason have these best of men come upon this difficult path, bearing excellent weapons? I wish to hear the truth.” Hearing these words, Viśvāmitra recounted all that had occurred: the boys’ stay at Siddhāśrama, their heroic slaying of the Rākṣasas, and the purpose of their journey. Sumati listened with astonishment to the sage’s tale. Honoring the two mighty sons of Daśaratha as honored guests, Sumati received them according to custom, offering them every courtesy. After spending a restful night under Sumati’s roof, the two Raghavas—Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa—set out again, journeying towards Mithilā. As they approached the auspicious city of Janaka, the sages with them praised Mithilā, exclaiming, “Excellent, excellent!” and honored the city greatly. Near Mithilā, Rāma’s attention was drawn to a secluded and charming grove. There stood an ancient, deserted hermitage. Turning to Viśvāmitra, Rāma asked, “O venerable one, this place resembles a hermitage, yet why is it devoid of ascetics? I wish to hear, whose former hermitage is this?” Viśvāmitra, skilled in speech, replied, “Indeed, I will tell you, Rāghava; listen truly, whose hermitage this is, which was cursed in anger by a great soul. This was once the hermitage of the illustrious Gautama, O best of men, resplendent as the divine and highly revered even by the gods. Here, long ago, together with Ahalyā, he practiced austerities for many thousands of years. “Knowing the absence of Gautama, 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 full composure; but I desire union with you now.’ Recognizing Indra in disguise, yet moved by curiosity and lacking good judgment, Ahalyā consented to the king of the gods. “With her purpose fulfilled, she said to Indra, ‘I am satisfied, O lord of gods; go quickly from here, O master. By all means, protect both yourself and me from Gautama.’ Indra, laughing, replied, ‘O beautiful-hipped one, I am satisfied and will depart as I came.’ Thus, after their union, he left the hut at once. “But in his haste and fear of Gautama, Indra hurried away, only to see the great sage entering. Gautama, difficult to approach for gods and demons, endowed with the power of austerity, bathed with sacred waters and shone like blazing fire. Seeing him carrying sacred fuel and kuśa grass, Indra became fearful and his face grew pale. “Then, seeing Indra in the guise of a sage, the virtuous Gautama, though himself righteous, spoke these words in anger: ‘Assuming my form, you have committed this wrongful act, O wicked-minded one; therefore, you shall become fruitless.’ As Gautama, filled with great wrath, spoke thus, the testicles of the thousand-eyed one immediately fell to the ground. “Having thus cursed Indra, Gautama also cursed his wife: ‘For many thousands of years you shall dwell here, sustained by air, fasting, scorched by penance, lying on ashes, unseen by all beings, you shall remain in this hermitage. When Rāma, the son of Daśaratha, comes to this dreadful forest, then you shall be purified. By receiving him as a guest, O wicked one, free from greed and delusion, you shall, with joy, regain your own form and come to me.’ “Having spoken thus to the sinful woman, the great sage Gautama, possessed of great austerity, left this hermitage, now deserted, and performed penance on the beautiful peak of the Himalaya.