After Viśvāmitra’s defeat at the hands of the sage Vasiṣṭha, the gods proclaimed, “By you, O Brahman, mighty Viśvāmitra has been subdued; your power is supreme and unfailing—may the worlds be free from fear.” Hearing these words, the radiant Vasiṣṭha composed himself, while Viśvāmitra, overwhelmed by his defeat, sighed deeply and spoke in anguish, “Fie upon the power of the warrior, the strength of the Kṣatriya; the strength of Brahmanic energy is true strength. With a single Brahma staff, all my weapons have been destroyed.” Filled with reflection, Viśvāmitra gathered his senses and mind, and resolved, “I will undertake great austerity, which alone is the cause of becoming a Brahman.” Now, listen to the fifty-seventh chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Bāla Kāṇḍa. Viśvāmitra, his heart scorched by grief and recalling his defeat, sighed again and again, harboring enmity toward the great-souled Vasiṣṭha. With his queen, he journeyed southward, and there, Viśvāmitra, the great ascetic, began the most severe austerities. He lived on fruits and roots, practiced self-control, and performed supreme austerity. In time, sons were born to him—Haviṣpanda, Madhuṣpanda, and Dṛḍhanetra, the great chariot-warrior—all devoted to truth and righteousness. When a thousand years of austerity had passed, Brahmā, the grandsire of the worlds, addressed Viśvāmitra, the wealth of asceticism, with sweet words: “The realms of royal sages are conquered by you through austerity, O son of Kuśika. By this austerity, we know you as a royal sage.” Having spoken thus, Brahmā departed with the gods to the heavenly realm, the abode of Brahmā. Hearing this, Viśvāmitra became somewhat downcast and modest. Overcome by sorrow and anger, he lamented, “I have performed immense austerity, yet they know me only as a royal sage. All the gods and all the hosts of sages—there is, I think, no fruit of austerity.” Resolving to continue, Viśvāmitra, the righteous-souled, possessing supreme self, practiced even greater austerity. At that time, another figure emerged—Triśaṅku, renowned for enhancing the Ikṣvāku lineage, a king who spoke truth and had conquered his senses. Triśaṅku thought, “I shall perform a sacrifice, O descendant of Raghu. I shall attain, with my own body, the supreme state of the gods.” He summoned Vasiṣṭha and revealed his intent. But the great-souled Vasiṣṭha told him, “It is impossible.” Rejected by Vasiṣṭha, Triśaṅku journeyed southward. Seeking to fulfill his wish, Triśaṅku approached the sons of Vasiṣṭha, who were engaged in austerity. He saw a hundred exceedingly brilliant sons of Vasiṣṭha, steadfast in mind. Approaching them, Triśaṅku greeted each one, standing with modesty and his face lowered. With hands joined in reverence, he spoke, “I have come to you for refuge, seeking shelter from those who grant shelter. I have been rejected, may you be blessed, by the great-souled Vasiṣṭha; desiring to perform a great sacrifice, you ought to grant me permission. I honor all the sons of the guru and entreat you; bowing my head, I beseech the Brahmins who are steadfast in austerity. May you, for the sake of accomplishment, officiate for me with concentration, so that I may attain the world of the gods with my body. Rejected by Vasiṣṭha, I see no other path, O ascetics, except through the guru’s sons. For among all the Ikṣvākus, the family priest is indeed the highest path; therefore, after him, you all are my divinity.” Now, listen to the fifty-eighth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa. Hearing Triśaṅku’s words, filled with anger, the hundred sons of the sage spoke to the king: “You have been rejected, O wicked-minded one, by your truthful guru; how, then, did you transgress and approach another branch? For among all the Ikṣvākus, the family priest is indeed the highest path; and the words of the truth-speaking one cannot be transgressed. The venerable sage Vasiṣṭha said, ‘It is impossible’; yet we are somehow able to assemble the sacrifice. You are childish, O best of men; return again to your own city. The venerable one is capable of performing the sacrifice even for the three worlds, O king. How could we possibly insult him?” Hearing their words, filled with anger, Triśaṅku spoke again: “I have been rejected by the venerable one, and likewise by the guru’s sons. I shall seek another path. Farewell to you, O ascetics.” When the sage’s sons heard these words, dreadful in intent, they became exceedingly enraged and cursed him: “You shall become a Caṇḍāla!” Having spoken thus, those great souls returned to their own hermitages. As the night passed, Triśaṅku was transformed into a Caṇḍāla: clad in dark garments, dark-skinned, his hair disheveled, adorned with garlands of rags, smeared with ashes, and wearing iron ornaments. Seeing him in this form, all his ministers fled, as did the townspeople who followed him. The king, a descendant of Kakutstha, went forth alone, possessing supreme self-control.