Overcome by the pride of desire, the sage Viśvāmitra gazed upon the celestial apsaras Menakā and welcomed her warmly, saying, “Welcome, O apsaras! Please stay here in my hermitage.” Bewildered by passion, he pleaded, “Grant me your favor, blessed one, for I am overcome.” Hearing his words, the beautiful Menakā took up residence in his hermitage. Thus, as Menakā dwelt with him, a great obstacle arose for Viśvāmitra’s austerities, O Rāma. For five years, and then five more, she remained there. Those ten years passed pleasantly in the serene hermitage, with Viśvāmitra lost in the company of Menakā. But when that time had elapsed, the great sage became as if ashamed, his mind filled with anxiety and sorrow. A thought, burning with indignation, arose within him: “This is the work of all the gods—a great theft of my austerity. Ten years have slipped by in the span of day and night. This obstacle has come upon me, overwhelmed as I was by desire and passion.” With a heavy sigh, the eminent sage was stricken by remorse. Seeing Menakā, trembling and standing before him with joined palms in fear, the son of Kuśika gently released her from his hermitage. Resolving anew upon steadfastness and self-mastery, Viśvāmitra journeyed to the northern mountain, his heart set on conquering himself and restoring his renown. On the banks of the river Kauśikī, he undertook severe austerity—penance so fierce that few could accomplish it. For thousands of years, Viśvāmitra practiced intense self-discipline. His fiery austerities on the northern mountain filled the gods with fear. All the gods, together with the hosts of sages, gathered and consulted among themselves, saying, “Let Kuśika’s son attain the title of great sage.” Hearing these 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, O Kauśika.” Hearing Brahmā’s words, Viśvāmitra, rich in austerity, bowed his head and joined his palms, addressing the grandfather: “If you, O Lord, declare for me the incomparable title of Brahmarṣi, earned by my own virtuous deeds, then truly I am one who has conquered the senses.” But Brahmā replied, “You have not yet conquered the senses. Strive on, O tiger among sages.” With these words, Brahmā departed for heaven. When the gods had gone, Viśvāmitra, resolute, continued his penance. With arms raised and unsupported, subsisting on air alone, he practiced austerity. In the heat, he stood amidst five blazing fires; in the rains, he remained exposed to the sky. In the freezing winter, he lay in water day and night. In this way, for a thousand years, he undertook terrible penance. As Viśvāmitra’s austerities burned ever brighter, great distress arose among the gods and Indra. Seeking to protect their own positions, Indra and the Maruts approached the apsaras Rambhā, instructing her, “O Rambhā, this is a great task for the gods—you must entice Kauśika, filling him with desire and delusion.” Bashful and with joined palms, Rambhā replied, “O lord of the gods, this Viśvāmitra is a terrible sage. Without doubt, he will unleash dreadful anger upon me. Therefore, I am afraid; grant me your favor.” The thousand-eyed 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 radiant beauty and many qualities, should disturb the sage Kauśika, devoted to austerity.” Hearing Indra’s words, Rambhā assumed unsurpassed beauty. The lovely, pure-smiling apsaras began to entice Viśvāmitra. He heard the sweet voice of the cuckoo singing, and, delighted, he gazed upon her. But as he listened to the enchanting song and beheld Rambhā’s beauty, doubt arose within him. Perceiving all this as Indra’s doing, the sage, seized by anger, 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 the power of austerity will deliver you when you have been tainted by my anger.” Having spoken thus, Viśvāmitra, unable to contain his anger and distress, transformed Rambhā into stone by his powerful curse. Kāma, too, departed, hearing the sage’s words. Overcome by anger and the loss of his ascetic power, Viśvāmitra, great-souled though he was, found no peace within himself, for his senses were not yet mastered. Troubled that his asceticism had been disrupted, he resolved, “I will not give in to anger, nor will I speak in any way. Or else, I shall not breathe even for hundreds of years; I will dry up myself, having conquered my senses.” Thus, Viśvāmitra’s journey of self-mastery continued—undaunted, ever striving for the highest realization.