Seeing the celestial apsaras Menakā trembling before him, her hands folded in supplication, the great sage Viśvāmitra, son of Kuśika, released her with gentle words, calming her fear. Having thus let Menakā go, Viśvāmitra turned his mind northward, filled with a firm resolve to conquer himself. Renowned for his determination, he journeyed to the northern mountains. There, upon the banks of the sacred Kauśikī river, Viśvāmitra undertook a most severe and difficult austerity. For thousands of years, he practiced fierce and relentless penance, his resolve unwavering. As he burned with the fire of his asceticism on those northern heights, a great fear arose among the gods. All the deities, together with the hosts of sages, gathered and consulted one another, troubled by the power Viśvāmitra was amassing. They agreed, "Let Kuśika's son be granted the title of great sage." Hearing these words, Brahmā, the grandfather of all worlds, approached Viśvāmitra and spoke to him in sweet tones: "Welcome, O child! Your intense penance has pleased me greatly." Brahmā then declared, "I grant you greatness and the foremost status among sages, O Kauśika." Hearing Brahmā's words, Viśvāmitra, still rich in austerity, bowed his head and joined his palms in reverence. He addressed the Lord of Creation: "O Lord, if you declare for me the incomparable title of Brahmarṣi, earned by my own virtuous deeds, then truly I will have conquered my senses." But Brahmā replied, "You have not yet conquered the senses, O tiger among sages. Strive further." With these words, Brahmā departed to heaven, and the assembled gods withdrew. Left alone, Viśvāmitra raised his arms and, unsupported, stood in penance, subsisting on air alone. In the heat, he stood amidst five blazing fires; in the rains, he remained exposed to the sky; and in the winter, he lay in water day and night. Thus, for another thousand years, he endured terrible austerities. As Viśvāmitra’s penance blazed ever fiercer, distress arose among the gods and Indra, their king. Seeking to protect their own position, Indra, along with the Maruts, summoned the apsaras Rambhā and spoke to her for his own benefit and to hinder Kuśika’s son. "Rambhā," Indra commanded, "this is a great task for the gods that you must accomplish. You are to entice Kauśika here, filling him with desire and delusion." Rambhā, bashful and trembling, her hands joined in reverence, 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; please grant me your favor." Seeing her fear, Indra reassured her: "Do not be afraid, 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’s song will captivate his heart. You, adorned with radiant beauty and many qualities, should disturb that sage Kauśika, devoted as he is to austerity." Hearing these instructions, Rambhā assumed a form of unsurpassed beauty. The lovely, pure-smiling apsaras began to entice Viśvāmitra. The sage heard the sweet voice of the cuckoo singing and, his mind delighted, he gazed upon Rambhā. But then, stirred by the song and her enchanting appearance, doubt arose within him. Perceiving all this as Indra’s doing, the great 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 endowed with the power of austerity will deliver you from my curse when you have been tainted by my anger." Having uttered this curse, Viśvāmitra, unable to contain his anger and distress, saw Rambhā instantly transformed into stone by the power of his words. Kāma, too, departed, his purpose unfulfilled. But Viśvāmitra, overwhelmed by anger and the loss of his ascetic power, found no peace within himself, for his senses were not yet fully mastered. His mind troubled by the disruption of his penance, 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. Until I attain the status of a Brāhmaṇa, earned through asceticism, I will remain without breathing or eating for countless years. While I am practicing austerities, my bodily forms will not perish." Thus, for another thousand years, Viśvāmitra undertook an unparalleled vow, steadfast in his purpose. When this period was complete, Viśvāmitra abandoned the Himalayan region and journeyed eastward, where he performed even more severe austerities. He took a vow of silence for a thousand years, practicing an incomparable and supremely difficult asceticism. When those thousand years had passed, Viśvāmitra, now like wood and shaken by many obstacles, did not allow anger to enter his heart. Having made this resolve, he engaged in inexhaustible asceticism, and, when the vow of a thousand years was fulfilled, the great ascetic’s journey of self-mastery continued, steadfast and unbroken.