With a heart weighed down by rejection, King Triśaṅku approached the noble sons of his guru. One by one, he greeted each of these great-souled men, his demeanor marked by humility and modesty, his eyes lowered in respect. Standing before them with hands joined in reverence, he addressed them sincerely: “I have come to you seeking refuge, O bestowers of shelter. May you grant me sanctuary, for I have been turned away, may you be blessed, by the illustrious Vasiṣṭha himself. My desire is to perform a great sacrifice, and for this, I ask your permission.” He continued, “With deepest honor, I bow to all the sons of my guru. I entreat you, steadfast Brahmins, who are firm in your austerities, to hear my plea. For the sake of fulfilling this sacred act, I request that you officiate the sacrifice with focused minds, so that I may, in this very body, reach the world of the gods. Rejected by Vasiṣṭha, I see no other path, O ascetics, than through your grace. For among all the Ikṣvākus, the family priest is indeed the highest guide; after him, you yourselves are my divinity.” Now, listen to the next episode in this sacred tale. When Triśaṅku had spoken these words, his voice tinged with frustration and sorrow, the hundred sons of sage Vasiṣṭha replied to the king: “You have been rejected, O king, by your truthful guru. How could you disregard his will and seek another, turning to a different branch? Among the Ikṣvākus, the family priest is the supreme path, and the words of one who speaks truth must not be transgressed.” They continued, “The venerable Vasiṣṭha has declared, ‘It is impossible.’ Yet, somehow, you hope we would gather to perform this sacrifice? O best of men, your request is childish. Return to your city. The venerable one is capable of performing a sacrifice for the three worlds himself, O king. How could we possibly insult him by acting against his wishes?” Hearing their stern words, filled with indignation, Triśaṅku spoke again: “I have been rejected by the venerable one and now by you, the sons of my guru. I will seek another path. Farewell, O ascetics.” But upon hearing these words, so resolute and desperate, the sons of Vasiṣṭha, overwhelmed with anger, pronounced a curse upon him: “You shall become a Caṇḍāla!” Having uttered this dreadful curse, they returned to their hermitages. When night had passed, the curse took hold. Triśaṅku was transformed into a Caṇḍāla: his skin turned dark, his garments were tattered and black, his hair hung in wild disarray. He was adorned with garlands made of rags, his body smeared with ashes, and iron ornaments hung from his limbs. Seeing their king in such a pitiable form, his ministers and the townspeople fled in fear, leaving him utterly alone. Yet, though abandoned by all, Triśaṅku’s self-control remained unbroken. Burning with inner torment day and night, Triśaṅku made his way to the sage Viśvāmitra. The great ascetic beheld the king, now rendered fruitless by curse and misfortune, and was moved to deep compassion. With a heart full of pity, Viśvāmitra addressed him: “May all be well with you, O king, though your appearance is dreadful. For what purpose have you come, mighty prince?” Triśaṅku, his hands joined and his speech measured, replied, “O master of words, I have been rejected by my guru and by his sons as well. My cherished desire remains unfulfilled, and my fate has turned against me. O gentle sage, I wish to ascend to heaven in this very body. Though I have performed a hundred sacrifices, I have not attained the fruit. Never have I spoken falsehood, nor will I ever. Even in adversity, I have upheld the Kṣatriya’s duty, performed many sacrifices, and protected my people with righteousness. My conduct has pleased the elders, yet they are not satisfied. I see now that fate is supreme, and human effort is powerless against it. All is overpowered by fate; fate is indeed the highest path. For me, who am afflicted and seeking your favor, you, O blessed one, ought to act for one whose actions are thwarted by destiny. I have no other refuge, nor any other shelter. You alone can turn aside fate by your own effort.” Now, hear what happened next in this sacred narration. Filled with compassion, Viśvāmitra, the son of Kuśika, spoke gentle words to the king, who now stood before him truly in the form of a Caṇḍāla. “Welcome, O Ikṣvāku, my child. I know you are truly righteous. I will grant you refuge; do not be afraid, O foremost of kings. I shall summon all the great sages of virtuous deeds, those who assist in sacrifices. Then, O king, you shall perform your sacrifice with satisfaction.” He assured Triśaṅku, “The form that has come upon you, caused by your guru’s curse— with this very form, you shall ascend bodily. Heaven is within your reach, O king, for you have come to me, the son of Kausika, seeking shelter and refuge.” Having thus spoken, the radiant sage instructed his righteous and wise sons to prepare all the necessary materials for the sacrifice. He gathered his disciples and commanded: “Go forth at my word and bring here all the sages, together with Vasiṣṭha himself.” Thus, with Viśvāmitra’s compassion and resolve, hope was rekindled for Triśaṅku, and the preparations for the great sacrifice began.