Viśvāmitra, the great sage, was seized by a surge of anger. Grasping the sacrificial ladle, his wrath blazing, he addressed King Triśaṅku with stern words. “Behold, O king, the power of my austerity! By my own strength, I shall send you to heaven in your very body.” He declared that, by the merit he had gained through severe penance, he would achieve this rare feat: “Ascend to heaven in your own body, O king—such is the fruit of my austerities.” As Viśvāmitra spoke, Triśaṅku began to rise, ascending bodily toward heaven before the astonished eyes of the assembled sages. Yet, as Triśaṅku approached the celestial realms, Indra, king of the gods, together with all the hosts of heaven, confronted him. “Triśaṅku, return! You have not earned a place in heaven,” they declared. Citing the curse of his own teacher, Indra pronounced, “O fool, fall back to earth headfirst!” At Indra’s command, Triśaṅku was cast down, plummeting toward the earth, his head pointing downward. In desperation, Triśaṅku cried out, “Save me!” calling upon Viśvāmitra, the sage endowed with immense ascetic power. Hearing his plea, Viśvāmitra was overcome with intense anger. He thundered, “Stop! Stop!” and in that moment, he shone among the sages like another Prajāpati, radiant with creative energy. In his wrath, Viśvāmitra created anew the seven sages who dwell in the southern sky, and from his anger, he fashioned a new lineage of stars. Turning to the southern direction, surrounded by other sages, he established this new constellation, his mind still clouded by fury. In his anger he declared, “I will create another Indra, or let the world be without an Indra!” and thus he began to create new deities as well. Alarmed by Viśvāmitra’s power and the upheaval he threatened, all the sages, gods, and asuras approached him with respectful and conciliatory words. “O most fortunate one,” they said, “this king is afflicted by the curse of his guru. Possessor of great ascetic wealth, he does not deserve to ascend to heaven in his body.” Listening to their words, the eminent sage Kauśika (Viśvāmitra) addressed the gods with a powerful speech. “A promise has been made for the bodily ascent of Triśaṅku the king. I cannot bring myself to act falsely.” He declared, “Let heaven be eternal for Triśaṅku in his body, and let all these stars of mine remain fixed. As long as the worlds endure, let these remain. And whatever the gods have done, let it be approved.” The gods, thus addressed, replied to the great sage, “So be it. Let all these things remain as you have decreed, and may good fortune be yours.” So it was that, in the sky beyond the path of Agni, those many new stars blazed among the heavenly lights. Triśaṅku, suspended with his head downward, was to remain like an immortal, and the constellation of lights would follow this king. Thus, Viśvāmitra’s purpose was accomplished. He achieved fame and secured Triśaṅku’s place in the heavens, earning the praise of all the gods. In the midst of sages, mighty beings, and ascetics, the gods agreed, “So be it.” And when the sacrifice was complete, all the great-souled gods and ascetics departed as they had come. Now, listen to the sixty-first chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Bālakāṇḍa. Viśvāmitra, radiant with splendor, observed the sages preparing to depart. He addressed all the forest-dwelling ascetics, saying, “A great obstacle has arisen in the southern direction. Let us journey elsewhere and practice our austerities in another direction.” He continued, “In the vast western region, at Puṣkara, we will practice our austerities in comfort. That forest is indeed pleasant for ascetic practices.” Having spoken, the mighty sage led the way and, at Puṣkara, began to perform fierce and unassailable austerities, sustaining himself on roots and fruits. At that very time, the illustrious king of Ayodhya, Ambarīṣa, began preparations for a great sacrifice. Yet, as the rituals were about to commence, Indra seized the sacrificial animal. When the animal was found missing, the priest turned to the king and said, “O King, the animal brought for the sacrifice has been lost due to your negligence. O lord of men, a king who does not protect his charge is destroyed by faults. This is a grave atonement, O best among men. Quickly bring the animal, or the ritual cannot proceed.” Hearing these words, the wise and illustrious king searched among thousands of cows for the missing animal. He scoured many regions—towns, forests, and sacred hermitages—in his quest. Accompanied by his son and wife, the descendant of Raghu eventually came upon the sage Ṛcīka, seated on the Bhṛgu mountain. The king, radiant with brilliance, bowed to the great sage, whose ascetic power blazed like fire, and after gaining his favor, addressed him with reverence. Inquiring after Ṛcīka’s welfare, the king spoke: “If you are willing, sell your son to me for a hundred thousand cows. O illustrious Bhārgava, for the sake of the sacrificial animal, I have done my duty; all regions have been searched, but I cannot find a suitable animal for the sacrifice. Please, grant me one son for this price.” Thus addressed, the mighty Ṛcīka replied, “O best of men, I would never sell my eldest son.