When Vasiṣṭha, the foremost among reciters of sacred hymns, was addressed in this way, he joyfully summoned the sinless Kalmāṣī, also known as Śabalā, the wish-fulfilling cow. “Come, come quickly, Śabala,” he called, “and listen to my words. I am resolved to provide this royal sage with an excellent meal and honor—arrange it for me.” He continued, “For each and every one, according to their desire, with all six flavors and full honor, let all those divine wish-fulfilling things rain down for me, O Kāmadhenu. Śabalā, quickly produce every kind of food—solid, liquid, to be licked, and to be sucked—rich with flavors, grains, and drinks.” Thus addressed by Vasiṣṭha, Śabalā, the fulfiller of desires, manifested for each person whatever they wished. She brought forth sugarcanes, honey, parched grains, the finest wines and liquors, costly drinks, and all kinds of foods, both sumptuous and simple. There appeared heaps of hot, well-cooked rice like mountains, delicious dishes, soups, and curds in abundance. Foods of every taste and flavor, sweetmeats, and thousands of well-filled dishes of jaggery were laid out. Everyone was perfectly satisfied, their hearts joyful and their bodies nourished. Vasiṣṭha, O Rāma, fully gratified the entire army of Viśvāmitra. The royal sage Viśvāmitra, along with his household, priests, and attendants, was delighted and well-nourished. Honored with his ministers and servants, filled with supreme joy, he spoke to Vasiṣṭha: “O Brāhmaṇa, you have honored me with the highest hospitality. Listen, O master of words, as I speak. Give me Śabalā in exchange for a hundred thousand cows; for this cow is a jewel, and kings are collectors of such treasures. Therefore, O twice-born, give me Śabalā by right.” Vasiṣṭha, the venerable and righteous sage, replied, “O king, I will not give up Śabalā for a hundred thousand cows, nor for hundreds of millions. I will not give her up for heaps of silver either; I am not fit to part with her, O subduer of foes. Śabalā has always been mine, as is the fame of a virtuous man. Through her, I obtain offerings for gods and ancestors, and my very livelihood. Through her depend the sacred fire-ritual, offerings, oblations, the utterance of svāhā and vaṣaṭ, and various branches of knowledge. All this, O royal sage, depends on her—there is no doubt. She is my everything, my source of satisfaction and truth. For many reasons, O king, I will not give you Śabalā.” Hearing this, Viśvāmitra’s desire only intensified. He said, “I will give you elephants adorned with golden chains and golden goads, their necks encircled with collars of gold. I will give you fourteen thousand such golden elephants, and chariots made of gold, drawn by four white horses. I will give you eight hundred horses, adorned with tinkling bells, born of noble lineage and great strength, and one thousand and ten more, all for you, O steadfast one. I will give you a crore of cows, of various colors and ages; let the spotted one be given to me. As many jewels or as much gold as you desire, O best of twice-born, I will give you all that; only let the spotted one be given to me.” But Vasiṣṭha replied firmly, “I will not give you the spotted one under any circumstance, O king. This alone is my treasure, my wealth, my everything, my very life. The new and full moon sacrifices, and all the rites duly performed—these alone are mine, O king, as are the various other rituals. All my rites depend upon her, O king, there is no doubt. Why speak at length? I will not give up the wish-fulfilling cow.” When Vasiṣṭha would not yield Kāmadhenu, Viśvāmitra, overcome by desire, began to drag away the spotted cow. As she was being led away by the king’s men, the distressed and weeping cow pondered in sorrow, “Abandoned by the supremely noble Vasiṣṭha, why am I, so miserable, being led away by the king’s men, filled with great grief? What wrong have I done to that great-souled sage, that he, seeing me innocent and devoted, abandons me, though he is righteous?” Thinking thus and sighing again and again, she swiftly broke free from the king’s men—shaking them off by the hundreds—and rushed with the speed of the wind to the feet of the great-souled Vasiṣṭha. Weeping and crying out, she stood before him and spoke, her voice resounding like thunderclouds, “O venerable one, son of Brahmā, why have you abandoned me, that the king’s soldiers are taking me away from your presence?” Thus addressed, the Brahmarshi Vasiṣṭha spoke to her, as one would to a grieving sister whose heart was scorched by sorrow.