With fervent eagerness and a heart full of longing, Viśvāmitra, master of eloquence, addressed Vasiṣṭha with these words: “I will give you elephants adorned with golden chains and golden goads, their necks encircled by collars of gold. Fourteen thousand such golden elephants shall be yours, and chariots made of gold, drawn by four white horses. I will bestow upon you eight hundred horses of noble lineage and great strength, each adorned with tinkling bells, and a thousand and ten more, all for you, O steadfast one. I will give you a crore of cows of various colors and ages; only let the spotted one be given to me. As many jewels or as much gold as you desire, O best of the twice-born, I will give you all that—just let the spotted one be given to me.” Thus entreated by the wise Viśvāmitra, the venerable Vasiṣṭha replied with calm resolve, “Under no circumstance, O king, will I give you the spotted one. She alone is my treasure; she alone is my wealth, my everything, my very life. The new and full moon sacrifices, and all the rites I duly perform—these alone are mine, O king, as are the various other rituals. All my rites depend upon her, without a doubt. Why speak at length? I will not give up the wish-fulfilling cow.” When Vasiṣṭha would not yield Kāmadhenu, Viśvāmitra’s desire turned to force. He began to drag away the spotted cow, O Rāma. As she was led away by the great king, the cow, distressed and weeping, was overcome with sorrowful thoughts: “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?” Tormented by these thoughts, sighing again and again, she broke free from the king’s men by the hundreds, shaking them off with the swiftness of the wind, and rushed to the feet of the great-souled Vasiṣṭha. Weeping and crying out, her voice like the rumble of thunderclouds, she stood before her master and spoke: “O venerable one, son of Brahmā, why have you abandoned me, that the king’s soldiers are taking me away from your presence?” Vasiṣṭha, the Brahmarshi, comforted her as one would a grieving sister whose heart is scorched by sorrow: “I do not abandon you, Shabala, nor have you done me any wrong. But this mighty king is taking you from me by force. My strength is not equal to the king’s, especially today; he is powerful, a Kṣatriya and lord of the earth. His full army, crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots, bristling with banners, makes him even stronger.” Hearing this, Shabala, skilled in speech, replied humbly to the illustrious sage, “They do not say that the strength of a Kṣatriya is greater, O Brahman; the divine power of Brahmanic strength surpasses that of Kṣatriyas. Your strength is immeasurable; Viśvāmitra, though mighty, is not stronger than you—your energy is unassailable. Command me, O great-splendored one, endowed with Brahmanic power; I shall destroy the pride, strength, and effort of that wicked one.” Thus encouraged by her, the renowned Vasiṣṭha said, “Release your power, destroyer of enemy forces.” At his command, Surabhi—the wish-fulfilling cow—bellowed mightily, and from her voice sprang forth hundreds of Pahlavas, O king. They fell upon Viśvāmitra’s army and destroyed it before his very eyes. The king, burning with rage, his eyes blazing, retaliated, destroying the Pahlavas with every weapon at his disposal. Seeing the Pahlavas afflicted, Surabhi again produced fierce Shakas mixed with Yavanas, who covered the earth like a living flood. Radiant, mighty, golden in hue, armed with sharp swords and spears, clad in golden garments, these warriors swept over the king’s forces like blazing fire. In desperation, Viśvāmitra unleashed his weapons, throwing the Yavanas, Kambojas, and Barbaras into confusion. Witness now the next wondrous act. Seeing his conjured hosts bewildered and scattered by Viśvāmitra’s weapons, Vasiṣṭha urged the wish-fulfilling cow to create by her yogic power. From her bellowing were born the Kambojas, radiant as the sun; from her udder emerged the Barbaras, armed for battle. From her womb came the Yavanas, and from her very excrement, the Śakas were known; in her hair follicles dwelled the Mlecchas, Hāritas, and Kirātas. By these beings, in but a moment, all of Viśvāmitra’s forces were utterly destroyed, together with their elephants, horses, and chariots. Seeing his army struck down by the great-souled Vasiṣṭha’s might, a hundred sons of Viśvāmitra, bearing various weapons, advanced in fury. But then, Vasiṣṭha, the foremost among reciters of mantras, filled with righteous anger, advanced upon them; with a mere roar, he burned them all up. Thus was the pride of Viśvāmitra humbled before the boundless power of Brahmanic energy, and the might of the wish-fulfilling cow.