As Rāma journeyed near Mithilā, he came upon a grove where an ancient, deserted, yet enchanting hermitage stood. Curious, he turned to the foremost sage, Viśvāmitra, and asked, “O venerable one, this place looks like a hermitage, but why is it empty of ascetics? Whose hermitage was this?” Viśvāmitra, wise and eloquent, replied, “Listen well, Rāghava, for I shall tell you whose hermitage this is—a place once cursed in anger by a great soul. This was the hermitage of the illustrious Gautama, revered even by the gods, radiant as the divine. Here, long ago, Gautama and his wife, Ahalyā, practiced austerities together for thousands of years. One day, Indra, lord of Śacī, saw Gautama was away. Taking the guise of a sage, Indra approached Ahalyā and spoke, ‘O slender-waisted one, those who desire union wait for the proper season with composure. But I desire union with you now.’ Ahalyā recognized Indra, disguised as a sage, but, lacking good judgment and curious about the king of the gods, consented. After their union, Ahalyā said to Indra, ‘I am satisfied, O lord of gods; go quickly from here, O master. Protect both yourself and me from Gautama.’ Indra laughed and replied, ‘O beautiful-hipped one, I am satisfied and will depart as I came.’ He left the hut at once, hastening away in fear of Gautama. But as Indra fled, he saw the great sage Gautama entering, shining with the power of his penance, difficult to approach for gods and demons alike. Carrying sacred fuel and kuśa grass, Gautama’s presence caused Indra’s face to pale with fear. Seeing Indra in his own form, Gautama, though righteous, spoke in anger to the wicked one: ‘Assuming my form, you have committed this wrongful act. Therefore, you shall become fruitless.’ With the sage’s wrathful words, Indra’s testicles fell to the ground. Gautama then cursed his wife, saying, ‘For many thousands of years you shall dwell here, sustained by air, fasting, scorched by penance, lying on ashes, unseen by all beings. When Rāma, the son of Dasharatha, comes to this dreadful forest, you shall be purified. By receiving him as a guest, free from greed and delusion, you shall, with joy, regain your own form and come to me.’ Having pronounced these curses, Gautama, endowed with great austerity, left the hermitage, frequented by Siddhas and Charanas, and went to perform penance on the beautiful peak of the Himalaya. Now, hear the forty-ninth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa. Indra, rendered fruitless and fearful, spoke to the gods, with Agni at their head, and to the Siddhas, Gandharvas, and Charanas. He confessed, “By causing an obstacle to Gautama’s penance and provoking his anger, I acted for the sake of the gods. By his great curse, I am fruitless, and she has been rejected. I have deprived him of his penance. Therefore, O best of gods, all of you, together with sages and Charanas, should make this act, performed for the sake of the gods, fruitful for me.” Hearing Indra’s plea, the gods, led by Agni, approached the Pitṛs and, along with the Maruts, spoke, “This ram is intact, while Indra has been rendered without testicles. Take the testicles of the ram and quickly give them to Indra. The ram, made fruitless, will bring supreme satisfaction. Those men who offer rams will obtain inexhaustible fruit, and you shall grant them abundant rewards.” The Pitṛs heard Agni’s words and took the testicles of the ram, implanting them in the thousand-eyed Indra. From that time on, the Pitṛs eat fruitless rams, and the fruit is assigned to them. And from that time, Rāghava, Indra has the testicles of a ram, by the power of Gautama’s penance. Viśvāmitra then said, “O one of great brilliance, go to the hermitage of the virtuous one; deliver this highly fortunate Ahalyā, who is divine in form.” Hearing this, Rāma, together with Lakṣmaṇa, entered the hermitage, with Viśvāmitra leading the way. There, Rāma saw the highly blessed Ahalyā, her radiance intensified by austerity, difficult to behold even for gods and demons gathered together. Created with effort by the Creator, seemingly divine and woven of illusion, her body was enveloped in smoke, like a blazing tongue of fire. Like the brilliance of the full moon veiled by frost and clouds, she shone in the midst of waters, difficult to approach, like the radiant sun. By Gautama’s words, she had become difficult to behold for all three worlds, until Rāma’s sight brought an end to the curse, and she became visible to them.