O lion among kings, the wise and noble Rāma, listen to this tale of ancient days. The sage's son urged the king, saying, “Let us go quickly, O king of kings; end your vow and proclaim the completion of the rite.” Hearing these words, the king—his heart overflowing with joy—hurried to the sacrificial enclosure, tireless in his purpose. With the priests’ approval, the king marked the sacrificial victim with a sacred sign and bound him to the post, dressing him in red garments as tradition demanded. Once the victim was bound, the sage’s son offered praises to Indra and Indra’s younger brother, reciting excellent words in their honor. Pleased by the secret hymn, Indra—the thousand-eyed—bestowed long life upon Śunaḥśepa. The king, renowned among men, completed the sacrifice and, by Indra’s grace, reaped abundant rewards. Viśvāmitra, the righteous-souled sage of great austerity, then departed for Puṣkara, where he undertook further penance for another hundred years. Now, Rāma, hear the sixty-third chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. When a thousand years of Viśvāmitra’s austerity had passed, all the gods approached him as he bathed after his vow, eager to grant him the fruit of his efforts. Brahmā, radiant and brilliant, spoke kindly: “You are a sage, blessed one, by your own virtuous deeds.” Having spoken, the lord of the gods returned to heaven, and Viśvāmitra, full of energy, began even greater austerity. After some time, Menakā, the foremost among apsarases, came to bathe at Puṣkara. The mighty son of Kuśika saw her—her beauty unrivaled, shining like lightning in a cloud. Overcome by desire, the sage welcomed her: “O apsaras, please stay in my hermitage. Grant me your favor, for I am bewildered by passion.” Menakā, gracious and lovely, took up residence there. For ten years—five and five more—Menakā’s presence became a great obstacle to Viśvāmitra’s austerity. Those years passed pleasantly in his serene hermitage. But when the time elapsed, the sage became ashamed and sorrowful, his heart troubled and indignant. He thought, “This is the work of the gods—a theft of my austerity. Ten years have passed in the span of day and night. This obstacle has arisen, overwhelming me with desire and passion.” Afflicted by remorse, he sighed deeply. Seeing Menakā, trembling and fearful with joined palms, Viśvāmitra released her with gentle words. Resolving upon steadfastness and self-mastery, he journeyed to the northern mountain, seeking to conquer himself. On the banks of the Kauśikī, he undertook severe austerity—fierce penance for thousands of years. On that northern mountain, fear arose among the gods. They gathered with the hosts of sages and consulted, saying, “Let Kuśika’s son attain the title of great sage.” Hearing their words, Brahmā—the grandfather of all worlds—spoke sweetly to Viśvāmitra: “Welcome, child! You have pleased me with your intense penance. I grant you greatness and the foremost status among sages, O Kauśika.” Viśvāmitra, hands joined and head bowed, replied, “If you declare for me the incomparable title of Brahmarṣi, earned by my own virtuous deeds, then I am one who has conquered the senses.” Brahmā answered, “You have not yet conquered the senses. Strive, O tiger among sages.” With these words, Brahmā departed to heaven. When the gods had gone, Viśvāmitra raised his arms and, unsupported, subsisted on air alone. He practiced austerity in the heat, standing amidst five fires; in the rains, he remained exposed to the sky. In winter, he lay in water day and night. Thus, for a thousand years, he undertook terrible austerity. As Viśvāmitra burned with penance, great distress arose among the gods and Indra. Indra, with all the Maruts, spoke to Rambhā, the apsaras, seeking his own benefit and wishing harm upon Kuśika: “O Rambhā, this is a great task for the gods. You must entice Kauśika, filling him with desire and delusion.” Addressed by the wise thousand-eyed Indra, Rambhā, bashful and with joined palms, replied, “O lord of the gods, this Viśvāmitra is terrible. Without doubt, he will unleash dreadful anger upon me.” Trembling and fearful, she pleaded, “Therefore, O god, I am afraid; you should grant me your favor.” Indra, seeing her trembling with joined palms, reassured her: “Do not fear, Rambhā. May it be well with you. Carry out my command.” Thus, the gods’ designs set the stage for another test of Viśvāmitra’s resolve and the unfolding of his journey toward ultimate mastery.