In the sacred assembly, a heated debate arose among the divine sages and venerable Brahmins. They questioned how they could partake in the holy oblations, or even consume food, if it had been offered by someone of Chandala lineage. Their voices, sharp with indignation and eyes blazing red with anger, wondered aloud how those protected by the great sage Vishvamitra could ever hope to attain heaven under such circumstances. The Vāsiṣṭhas, joined by those from Mahodaya, spoke thus in unison, their words echoing through the gathering. Upon hearing these accusations, Vishvamitra, foremost among sages, felt his own eyes burn with fury. In a voice trembling with wrath, he declared, “Though I am blameless and unwavering in my fierce austerities, they revile me! These wicked ones shall surely be reduced to ashes. Today, led by the inexorable noose of Time, they are destined for the realm of Yama.” His anger unrestrained, Vishvamitra pronounced a terrible curse: “For seven hundred births, let them be born as Mṛtapās, feeding on dog flesh, merciless, and known as Muṣṭikas—deformed and misshapen, wandering the worlds without honor. And Mahodaya, whose mind is twisted and who slandered me though I am faultless, shall become a Niṣāda, infamous in all worlds, intent on killing living beings and devoid of compassion. For a long time, because of my wrath, he will dwell in misery.” Having uttered these fearsome words, the radiant sage Vishvamitra fell silent, his anger still smoldering. Now, let the next episode in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa, be recounted. Vishvamitra, aware that the Vāsiṣṭhas and those from Mahodaya had been subdued by the power of his asceticism, addressed the assembled sages. He said, “This is Triśaṅku, famed descendant of Ikṣvāku, righteous and generous, who has sought my refuge. With his very body, he desires to conquer the world of the gods and ascend to heaven in his mortal form.” He urged the sages, “Let us commence the sacrifice together, so that Triśaṅku may achieve his wish.” The great sages, swift to assemble and deeply versed in dharma, conferred among themselves. They recognized Vishvamitra’s intense wrath and agreed, “Whatever he commands must be done without question, for should he be angered, his curse would be as fierce as Agni’s flames. Let the sacrifice proceed, so that the descendant of Ikṣvāku may ascend to heaven in his body by Vishvamitra’s power.” With this resolve, the sages began the sacred rites. Vishvamitra himself became the chief officiant, while the other priests, skilled in sacred mantras, performed their duties as prescribed. Every ritual was conducted with exacting care and devotion. When all was ready, after a long period of preparation, Vishvamitra invoked the gods to receive their share of the sacrifice. But none of the gods appeared to accept the offerings. Enraged by this slight, Vishvamitra seized the sacrificial ladle and, his voice thunderous with wrath, said to Triśaṅku, “Behold the power of my austerity, O king! By my own strength, I shall send you to heaven in your very body. Ascend now, O king, to that realm which is so difficult to attain—this is the fruit of my tapas.” As the sage spoke, Triśaṅku, still in his mortal body, began to rise toward heaven, watched by the astonished sages. But as he approached the heavenly realm, Indra and the assembled gods intervened, declaring, “Triśaṅku, return! You have not earned a place in heaven.” Struck by the curse of his teacher, Indra cast him down, commanding, “Fall to earth, headfirst!” As he plummeted, Triśaṅku cried out desperately, “Save me!” to Vishvamitra, the mighty ascetic. Hearing his plea, Vishvamitra’s anger flared anew. He called out, “Stop! Stop!” and shone among the sages like another Prajāpati. In his wrath, Vishvamitra created anew the seven sages who dwell along the southern path, and from his fury, he fashioned another lineage of stars. Turning to the southern direction, he, surrounded by other sages, filled the sky with new constellations, his mind clouded by anger. In his rage, he declared, “I will make another Indra, or else let the world be without an Indra!” and he began to create new deities as well. Alarmed by these extraordinary displays of power, all the sages, gods, and asuras approached Vishvamitra with reverence and conciliatory words. “O great one,” they pleaded, “this king is afflicted by the curse of his guru; he does not deserve to ascend to heaven in his body.” Listening to their entreaties, the eminent sage Kauśika replied with unwavering resolve, “A promise has been made for Triśaṅku’s bodily ascent. I cannot go back on my word.” He decreed, “Let heaven be eternal for Triśaṅku in his mortal form, and let all these stars I have created remain fixed in the sky. As long as the worlds endure, let these all remain; and whatever the gods have done, let it be approved.” Thus addressed, the gods replied, “So be it; let all these remain, and may good fortune be yours.” And so, by the power of Vishvamitra’s word, Triśaṅku was granted his place in the heavens, suspended eternally, and the new stars shone in the southern sky—a testament to the sage’s unyielding will and the mysteries of dharma.