After the lord of the gods had spoken, he returned once more to heaven, leaving Viśvāmitra, the illustrious son of Kuśika, to pursue even greater austerities with renewed determination. Time passed, and in the sacred waters of Puṣkara, Menakā, the foremost among the apsarases, began to bathe. Her beauty was unmatched, radiant like lightning flashing within a cloud. Viśvāmitra, mighty and resplendent, beheld Menakā and was instantly overwhelmed by desire. Consumed by passion, he welcomed her, inviting her to remain in his hermitage. "Grant me your favor, blessed one," he pleaded, "for my heart is bewildered by passion." Menakā, graceful and lovely, accepted his invitation and took up residence in his hermitage. For ten years—five and five more—Menakā dwelled there, and Viśvāmitra's austerity suffered a great obstacle. Those years passed pleasantly in the tranquil hermitage, but when the decade had elapsed, the sage was seized by shame, anxiety, and sorrow. Indignation filled his heart as he realized, "This is the work of the gods, a theft of my austerity; ten years have slipped away in day and night. This obstacle arose because I was overwhelmed by desire and passion." Afflicted by remorse, he sighed deeply. Seeing Menakā trembling in fear, hands folded in supplication, Viśvāmitra released her with gentle words. Resolving to conquer himself, he journeyed to the northern mountain, determined to practice steadfast austerity. There, on the banks of the Kauśikī, he undertook severe penance—difficult and fierce—for thousands of years. His austerity was so intense that fear arose among the gods. All the gods, along with the sages, gathered and consulted together. "Let Kuśika’s son attain the title of great sage," they decided. Hearing their words, Brahmā, the grandfather of all worlds, addressed Viśvāmitra with sweet words: "Welcome, O child! Your intense penance has pleased me. I grant you greatness and the foremost status among sages." Viśvāmitra, hands joined and head bowed, replied, "If you declare me a Brahmarṣi—one who has conquered the senses—then I am fulfilled." But Brahmā gently said, "You have not yet conquered the senses. Strive, O tiger among sages." With that, Brahmā departed to heaven. Left alone, Viśvāmitra raised his arms in austere posture, subsisting only on air. In the heat, he stood amidst five fires; in the rains, he remained exposed to the sky; in winter, he lay in water day and night. For a thousand years, he endured these terrible austerities. His relentless penance disturbed the gods and Indra. Seeking to hinder him, Indra, accompanied by the Maruts, approached Rambhā, another apsaras. Indra said, "O Rambhā, you must accomplish this great task for the gods. Entice Kauśika, fill him with desire and delusion." Rambhā, bashful and fearful, replied, "O lord, Viśvāmitra is a terrible sage; surely he will unleash dreadful anger upon me." She trembled, hands joined, pleading for favor. Indra reassured her, "Do not fear, Rambhā. Carry out my command. In spring, amidst beautiful trees, I and Kāma will be by your side, and the cuckoo will captivate his heart. With your radiant beauty, disturb the sage devoted to austerity." Hearing Indra’s words, Rambhā adorned herself with unsurpassed beauty and began to entice Viśvāmitra. The sage heard the sweet song of the cuckoo and, his heart delighted, gazed upon Rambhā. Yet, the enchanting sound and her appearance made him suspicious. Perceiving this as Indra's scheme, Viśvāmitra was seized by anger and cursed Rambhā: "Because you tempt me, who seeks victory over desire and anger, you shall stand as a stone for ten thousand years. A brāhmaṇa of great splendor will deliver you when you have been tainted by my anger." Unable to contain his anger and distress, Viśvāmitra’s powerful curse transformed Rambhā into stone. Hearing the sage’s words, Kāma departed, leaving Viśvāmitra to continue his arduous path of self-mastery.