At midday, the illustrious King Ambarīṣa, renowned as the best among men, paused to rest at the sacred site of Puṣkara. With him was Śunaḥśepa, a boy of great repute. As the king rested, Śunaḥśepa, weary and afflicted by thirst and exhaustion, wandered through Puṣkara. His face was downcast, and he felt utterly alone. There, he caught sight of his maternal uncle, the sage Viśvāmitra, who was deep in austerities, surrounded by fellow sages. Overcome by distress, Śunaḥśepa approached Viśvāmitra and collapsed into his lap, pouring out his heart. He spoke sorrowfully, “I have no mother, no father, nor any relatives or kin. O gentle one, foremost among sages, you ought to protect me by righteousness. For you, best of men, are the refuge and creator of all. Let the king accomplish his purpose, let me have long and unending life. Having performed supreme austerity, may I attain the heavenly world. Be my protector, for I am without protector, with a benevolent heart. Like a father to his son, O righteous one, you ought to save me from sin.” Hearing these heartfelt words, Viśvāmitra, the great ascetic, comforted Śunaḥśepa in many ways. Then he called his own sons and addressed them. “For the sake of whom fathers desire sons, wishing for good and the benefit of the next world—now is that time come. This boy, son of a sage, seeks refuge with me. My sons, do what is pleasing by giving him your very life. All of you, who have performed virtuous deeds and are devoted to righteousness, become the sacrificial victim for the king and satisfy the fire. Śunaḥśepa will have a protector, the sacrifice will proceed without hindrance, the gods will be gratified, and my word will be fulfilled.” Upon hearing their father’s words, his sons, beginning with Madhucchandā, replied with pride and tears. “How can you abandon your own sons and save another’s child, O lord? We see this as improper, like eating the flesh of a dog.” Viśvāmitra, enraged by their response, his eyes reddened with anger, rebuked them. “This has been spoken without fear, yet it is condemned even by righteousness; having disregarded my words, it is harsh and hair-raising. All of you, like the descendants of Vasiṣṭha, will eat dog meat by birth; for a full thousand years you shall remain on earth.” Having pronounced this curse upon his sons, Viśvāmitra turned to the distressed Śunaḥśepa, ensuring his protection and well-being. He instructed, “Bound with sacred cords, adorned with red garlands and unguents, approach the Viṣṇu-post and, with words, invoke the fire. And, O young sage, you should sing these two divine verses at the sacrifice of Ambarīṣa; then you will attain success.” Śunaḥśepa carefully memorized the two verses and quickly approached King Ambarīṣa. He addressed him, “O lion among kings, great in wisdom, let us go quickly; O king of kings, end your vow and proclaim the completion of the rite.” Hearing these words, the king, filled with joy, hastened to the sacrificial enclosure. With the approval of the officiating priests, Ambarīṣa marked Śunaḥśepa as the sacrificial victim, binding him to the post and clothing him in red garments. Bound thus, Śunaḥśepa praised Indra and Indra’s younger brother with excellent words, as was proper. Indra, the thousand-eyed, pleased by Śunaḥśepa’s secret hymn, granted him long life. King Ambarīṣa completed the sacrifice and obtained abundant fruit by the grace of Indra. Viśvāmitra, righteous-souled and of great austerity, remained at Puṣkara and performed further penance for another hundred years. When those thousand years were complete, all the gods approached the great sage, who had bathed after his vow, wishing to grant the fruit of his austerity. Brahmā, radiant and brilliant, spoke to him: “You are a sage, blessed one, by your own virtuous deeds.” Having spoken thus, the lord of the gods returned to heaven, and Viśvāmitra, filled with energy, undertook even greater austerity. After a long time, Menakā, the foremost of apsarases, came to bathe at Puṣkara. Viśvāmitra, the mighty and radiant son of Kuśika, beheld her there, her beauty incomparable, like lightning in a cloud. Overcome by desire, the sage welcomed her, “Welcome, O apsaras! Please stay here in my hermitage. Grant me your favor, blessed one, for I am bewildered by passion.” Menakā, thus addressed, took up residence in his hermitage. For five years and five more, Menakā dwelt there, and Viśvāmitra’s austerity was greatly obstructed. Those years passed pleasantly in the serene hermitage, but when the ten years elapsed, Viśvāmitra became ashamed, absorbed in anxiety and sorrow. A thought arose in him, filled with indignation: “This is the work of all the gods, a great theft of my austerity; ten years have passed in the span of day and night.