Brahmā, radiant with immense brilliance, addressed Viśvāmitra with words that were both pleasing and full of praise: “Through your own virtuous deeds, you have become a sage, blessed one.” Having spoken thus, the lord of the gods returned to his heavenly abode. But Viśvāmitra, endowed with great energy, was not content to rest; he embarked upon even more intense austerities, determined to further his spiritual journey. As time passed, the beautiful apsaras Menakā, foremost among celestial nymphs, came to bathe at Puṣkara. There, the mighty and radiant Viśvāmitra, son of Kuśika, beheld her. She shone with incomparable beauty, dazzling like lightning flashing through a dark cloud. Overcome by the pride of desire, the sage approached her and spoke: “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. While she dwelt there, a great obstacle befell Viśvāmitra’s austerities. For ten years—five and five more—Menakā’s presence brought pleasure and serenity to the hermitage, but also drew the sage away from his penances. When those years had passed, Viśvāmitra was filled with shame and anxiety, his mind clouded with sorrow and indignation. He realized, “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. This obstacle has arisen for me, overwhelmed by desire and passion.” Afflicted by remorse, the eminent sage sighed deeply. Seeing Menakā, trembling with fear and standing before him with joined palms, Viśvāmitra released her with gentle words. Resolving to conquer himself, he journeyed to the northern mountain, seeking steadfastness and renown. Upon reaching the bank of the Kauśikī river, he undertook severe austerities, so difficult that few could endure them. For thousands of years, he practiced fierce penance. As Viśvāmitra’s austerities intensified on the northern mountain, fear arose among the gods. All the gods and the hosts of sages gathered and consulted together, saying, “Let Kuśika’s son attain the title of great sage.” Hearing their words, Brahmā, the grandfather of all worlds, descended and addressed Viśvāmitra with sweet words: “Welcome, O child! You have pleased me with your intense penance. I grant you greatness and the foremost status among sages, O Kauśika.” Viśvāmitra, rich in austerity, humbly joined his palms and bowed his head before Brahmā. He said, “If you, O Lord, declare for me the incomparable title of Brahmarṣi, earned by my own virtuous deeds, then I am one who has conquered the senses.” Brahmā replied, “You have not yet conquered the senses. Strive, O tiger among sages.” With these words, Brahmā returned to heaven. Undeterred, Viśvāmitra renewed his resolve. He raised his arms and stood unsupported, subsisting only on air. In the heat of summer, he stood amidst five fires; during the rains, he remained exposed to the sky; and in winter, he lay in water by day and night. For a thousand years, he undertook these terrible austerities. As Viśvāmitra burned with penance, great distress arose among the gods and Indra. Indra, together with the Maruts, sought to disrupt the sage’s penance for his own benefit and the harm of Kuśika. He approached Rambhā, another apsaras, and said, “O Rambhā, this is a great task for the gods that you must accomplish: entice Kauśika here, filling him with desire and delusion.” Rambhā, bashful and trembling, replied with joined palms, “O lord of the gods, this Viśvāmitra, the great sage, is terrible; without doubt, he will unleash dreadful anger upon me. Therefore, I am afraid; you should grant me your favor.” Indra reassured her: “Do not fear, Rambhā; may it be well with you. Carry out my command. In spring, amidst beautiful trees, I, together with Kāma, will remain by your side, and the cuckoo will captivate his heart. You, adorned with many qualities and radiant beauty, should disturb that sage Kauśika, devoted to austerity.” Encouraged by Indra’s words, Rambhā assumed unsurpassed beauty and began to entice Viśvāmitra. The sage heard the sweet song of the cuckoo and, his heart delighted, gazed upon her. But as he listened to the enchanting sounds and beheld Rambhā’s beauty, he became suspicious. Recognizing all this as Indra’s work, the sage was seized by anger. He cursed Rambhā: “Because you tempt me, Rambhā, who seeks victory over desire and anger, you, unfortunate one, shall stand as a stone for ten thousand years. A brāhmaṇa of great splendor and endowed with the power of austerity will deliver you, Rambhā, when you have been tainted by my anger.” Having uttered this curse, the great sage Viśvāmitra, possessed of immense energy, found himself unable to contain his anger and distress, even as he continued his relentless pursuit of self-mastery.