Before the eyes of Vishvamitra, his entire army was destroyed, and the king’s fury was kindled—his eyes blazing with rage. In his wrath, Vishvamitra unleashed his weapons, both great and small, and with them he decimated the Pahlavas. Witnessing the suffering of the Pahlavas at Vishvamitra’s hands, the wish-fulfilling cow again produced fierce Shakas, mixed with Yavanas, whose numbers covered the earth. These new warriors were radiant and mighty, their bodies shining like golden filaments. Armed with sharp swords and spears, clad in garments of gold, they filled the battlefield. Yet, as if consumed by blazing fires, Vishvamitra’s weapons destroyed that entire host. The mighty sage then released his arsenal, throwing the Yavanas, Kambojas, and Barbaras into utter confusion. Now begins the fifty-fifth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa. Seeing these warriors bewildered and thrown into disarray by Vishvamitra’s weapons, Vasiṣṭha urged the wish-fulfilling cow to create anew by her yogic power. From her bellowing emerged radiant Kambojas, shining like the sun; from her udder came Barbaras, armed for battle. From her wombs appeared Yavanas, and from the land of her excrement, the Shakas arose; in her hair follicles dwelled the Mlecchas, Hāritas, and Kirātas. These new forces, in a single instant, destroyed all of Vishvamitra’s army, elephants, horses, and chariots alike. Seeing his army struck down by the great-souled Vasiṣṭha, a hundred sons of Vishvamitra, bearing various weapons, advanced to fight. But Vasiṣṭha, exceedingly enraged and foremost among mantra-chanters, stepped forward. With a mere roar, he burned them all to ashes—the sons of Vishvamitra, their horses, chariots, and foot soldiers, all were reduced to dust in a moment by Vasiṣṭha’s power. Witnessing the destruction of his forces, the illustrious Vishvamitra was seized by shame and deep contemplation. He was like an ocean deprived of its surge, a serpent with broken fangs, a sun eclipsed—his brilliance suddenly gone. Bereft of sons and strength, dejected like a bird with clipped wings, all his power and enthusiasm vanished, and he fell into despair. He appointed one surviving son to rule the kingdom, instructing him to govern the earth according to the duty of a kṣatriya, and then departed for the forest. Vishvamitra journeyed to the slopes of the Himālayas, frequented by Kinnaras and serpents, and there undertook severe austerities to win the favor of Mahādeva. After some time, the lord of the gods, the bull-bannered Mahādeva, appeared before the great sage, ready to grant him a boon. “For what purpose do you practice austerities, O king?” asked the god. “Speak your desire. I am the giver of boons—let your wish be declared.” Bowng reverently, Vishvamitra replied, “If you are pleased, O sinless Mahādeva, grant me the knowledge of the science of archery, with all its branches, sub-branches, Upaniṣads, and secrets. May all the weapons known among gods, Dānavas, great sages, Gandharvas, Yakṣas, and Rākṣasas become manifest to me, O sinless one. By your grace, O god of gods, may my wish be fulfilled.” The lord of the gods replied, “So be it,” and departed. Having obtained these weapons from Mahādeva, the mighty Vishvamitra was filled with pride, his power growing like the ocean at the full moon. At that time, O Rāma, he considered the eminent sage Vasiṣṭha as already slain. Returning to the hermitage, the king released his newly acquired weapons, and by their power, the forest of ascetics—Tapovana—was burned up. Seeing the weapon unleashed by wise Vishvamitra, hundreds of terrified sages fled in all directions. Vasiṣṭha’s disciples, along with deer and birds, panic-stricken, scattered by the thousands. For a moment, the hermitage of the great-souled Vasiṣṭha became empty and silent, like a desolate reed field. Vasiṣṭha called out again and again, “Do not fear.” He declared, “Today I will destroy the son of Gādhi, as the sun dispels the mist.” With these words, the mighty Vasiṣṭha, foremost among reciters of mantras, addressed Vishvamitra in anger: “You have destroyed this hermitage, long nurtured, O deluded one of evil conduct; therefore, you shall not endure.” Extremely enraged, Vasiṣṭha swiftly raised his staff, resembling the rod of Yama, like a smokeless fire of destruction. Now begins the fifty-sixth sarga. Thus addressed, the mighty Vishvamitra aimed the missile of Agni and called out, “Stand, stand!” Raising the Brahma-staff, like another rod of Time, the venerable Vasiṣṭha, enraged, spoke: “O destroyer of the Kṣatriya race, I am standing here—show me your strength! Today I will destroy your pride in weapons, O son of Gādhi. Where is your Kṣatriya power, and where is the great power of Brahman? Behold my divine Brahmanic power, O dust of Kṣatriyas!” The terrible and supreme missile of fire, released by Vishvamitra, was subdued by the Brahma-staff of Vasiṣṭha, as the force of fire is subdued by water.