Afflicted by great sorrow and feeling utterly powerless, King Triśaṅku approached the illustrious sage Viśvāmitra, his heart heavy with the weight of fate. “Everything is overpowered by destiny,” Triśaṅku lamented. “Fate is indeed the highest power, but I am suffering deeply and have come to you for refuge. My every effort is thwarted by fate—O blessed one, I beg you to act on my behalf. I have no other shelter, no other hope. By your own strength, please turn aside this fate that binds me.” Moved by compassion, the sage Viśvāmitra, son of Kuśika, spoke gently to the king, who had been cursed and transformed into a Chandala, an outcaste. “Welcome, O scion of Ikṣvāku,” Viśvāmitra said kindly. “You are truly righteous, my child. Have no fear, for I will grant you refuge. I will summon all the great sages who assist in sacrifices, and then, O king, you shall perform the sacred rite you desire with contentment. The form you now bear, the result of your guru’s curse, will not hinder you; with this very body, you shall ascend to heaven. Heaven is within your reach, for you have sought shelter with me, the son of Kausika, who gives refuge to those in need.” Having thus reassured Triśaṅku, Viśvāmitra instructed his wise and virtuous sons to prepare the ritual materials for the great sacrifice. He called his disciples and commanded them, “Go, summon all the sages, including Vasiṣṭha. Bring their disciples, their friends, and the learned priests who know the Vedas. Whoever wishes to speak, let them come at my word.” The disciples departed in all directions to deliver the sage’s summons. Soon, from every region, Brahmanical sages gathered, bringing their disciples and approaching Viśvāmitra, who shone with the power of his asceticism. As they arrived, some of the sages—especially those of the Vāsiṣṭha lineage and those from Mahodaya—were filled with anger. They protested, “How can a Kshatriya act as the officiating priest for a Chandala? How can divine sages or great-souled Brahmins accept offerings or food from one who has become an outcaste? How will those protected by Viśvāmitra attain heaven if they do so?” Their eyes reddened with wrath, they spoke these harsh words. Hearing this, Viśvāmitra himself grew angry. His eyes blazing, he declared, “Though I am blameless and steadfast in my austerities, they revile me! Those wicked ones shall be consumed by my wrath—they are led by the noose of Time to the realm of Yama. For seven hundred births, let them be born as Mṛtapās, eating dog flesh, merciless, and known as Muṣṭikas—deformed and wandering the worlds, shunned by all. As for Mahodaya, who slandered me though I am faultless, let him become a Niṣāda, infamous in all worlds, intent on killing living beings and devoid of compassion. For a long time, because of my anger, he will dwell in misery.” Having spoken thus, the great ascetic Viśvāmitra, radiant among sages, fell silent. Now, knowing that the Vāsiṣṭhas and those from Mahodaya had been overcome by the force of his penance, Viśvāmitra addressed the assembled sages: “This is Triśaṅku, famed descendant of Ikṣvāku, righteous and generous, who has come to me for refuge. With this very body, he wishes to ascend to heaven, conquering the world of the gods.” He urged the sages, “Let us commence the sacrifice together.” The assembled sages, understanding the power and wrath of Viśvāmitra, agreed: “Whatever he says must be done, for his anger is like fire, and he is quick to curse. Let us proceed, so that Triśaṅku may ascend to heaven in his own body by the power of Viśvāmitra.” Thus, the great sages began the sacrifice. Viśvāmitra himself acted as the chief priest, while the others, skilled in sacred mantras, performed their duties in accordance with the ancient rules. They conducted every rite precisely as prescribed. After a long time, when the moment came to invoke the gods for their share of the offerings, Viśvāmitra performed the invocation—but none of the gods appeared to accept their portion. Enraged by this, Viśvāmitra lifted the sacrificial ladle and, with burning wrath, addressed Triśaṅku: “Behold the power of my austerity, O king! By my own strength, I shall lead you to heaven in your own body. Go now, O king, to heaven in this very form, which is so difficult to attain. Surely, some fruit of my penance must come to pass.” With these words, Viśvāmitra’s resolve and spiritual might prepared to fulfill Triśaṅku’s extraordinary desire, challenging even the will of fate itself.