Viśvāmitra, the great sage, lived a life of profound self-control, sustaining himself only on fruits and roots, and practicing the highest austerities. In time, sons were born to him—Haviṣpanda, Madhuṣpanda, and Dṛḍhanetra, a mighty chariot-warrior—all devoted to truth and righteousness. After a thousand years had passed in such discipline, Brahmā, the grandsire of all worlds, appeared before Viśvāmitra and spoke sweetly to him: “Through your austerity, O son of Kuśika, you have conquered the realms of royal sages. By this asceticism, we know you as a royal sage.” With these words, the illustrious Brahmā and the gods departed, returning to their heavenly abode. Hearing this, Viśvāmitra felt a wave of modesty, tinged with sorrow and anger. He thought to himself, “Despite my immense austerities, they recognize me only as a royal sage. Among all the gods and sages, it seems my penance bears no true fruit.” Thus resolved, Viśvāmitra, steadfast in righteousness and supreme self-mastery, redoubled his austerities. At this very time, Triśaṅku, famed as an enhancer of the Ikṣvāku lineage and a speaker of truth who had conquered his senses, conceived a great desire: “I shall perform a sacrifice and, with my own body, attain the supreme realm of the gods.” He summoned the venerable Vasiṣṭha and revealed his intention. But Vasiṣṭha, wise and great-souled, replied that it was impossible. Rejected, Triśaṅku turned southward, seeking another way to fulfill his wish. Determined, Triśaṅku approached the sons of Vasiṣṭha, a hundred brilliant ascetics engaged in deep penance. He greeted each of these great-souled sons of the guru with humility, standing before them with hands joined and head bowed. “I have come to you for refuge, O bestowers of shelter,” he said. “Rejected by the great-souled Vasiṣṭha, I seek your blessing to perform a great sacrifice. I honor you all and entreat you, steadfast Brahmins, to officiate for me with concentration, so that I may ascend to the world of the gods with my body. Rejected by Vasiṣṭha, I see no other path but through you, the sons of my guru. For among the Ikṣvākus, the family priest is the highest guide; after him, you are my divinity.” Now, O Rāma, listen to what followed. The hundred sons of the sage, angered by Triśaṅku’s words, spoke sternly: “You have been rejected, O misguided one, by your truthful guru. How dare you transgress and approach another branch? Among the Ikṣvākus, the family priest is the highest path, and the words of the truth-speaking one cannot be transgressed. The venerable Vasiṣṭha has said it is impossible, and yet you seek to assemble the sacrifice through us. This is childish, O king. Return to your city. The venerable sage could perform the sacrifice for the three worlds if he wished. How could we possibly insult him?” Hearing these words, Triśaṅku replied, “I have been rejected by the venerable one, and now by you, his sons. I shall seek another path. Farewell, O ascetics.” But the sons of Vasiṣṭha, enraged by his persistence, cursed him: “You shall become a Caṇḍāla!” Having pronounced this dreadful curse, they returned to their hermitages. When night had passed, Triśaṅku found himself transformed: his skin dark, his hair disheveled, clad in dark garments, adorned with garlands of rags, smeared with ashes, and wearing iron ornaments. Seeing their king in this fearful form, his ministers and the people of the city fled from him in terror. Alone, bearing supreme self-control, Triśaṅku, burning with anguish day and night, went to seek Viśvāmitra, the great ascetic. Viśvāmitra, seeing the king in his wretched state, was moved by deep compassion. The supremely righteous sage addressed him gently: “May it be well with you. For what purpose have you come, O mighty prince? By the curse you have become a Caṇḍāla.” With joined palms, Triśaṅku replied, his voice steady despite his distress: “I have been rejected by my guru and by his sons. My wish remains unfulfilled; instead, I have met with the opposite. O gentle one, may I ascend to heaven with my body. Though I have performed a hundred sacrifices, I have not attained the fruit. I have never spoken falsehood, nor will I ever speak it.” Thus, Triśaṅku stood before Viśvāmitra, seeking grace amid adversity, his heart unwavering in its longing for the supreme goal.