Thus, O Rāma, Rambhā, trembling and fearful, approached Indra, the thousand-eyed god, and confessed her dread: “Therefore, O god, I am afraid; you should grant me your favor.” Seeing her distress, Indra spoke kindly to her, “Do not fear, Rambhā; may it be well with you. Carry out my command. In the springtime, amidst beautiful trees, I, together with Kāma, will remain by your side, and the cuckoo’s song will captivate the sage’s heart. You, adorned with many virtues and radiant beauty, gentle one, should disturb the sage Kauśika, who is devoted to severe austerity.” Hearing Indra’s command, Rambhā, now resplendent in unsurpassed beauty and graced with a pure, enchanting smile, set out to entice the great sage Viśvāmitra. As she approached, the sweet voice of the cuckoo filled the air, and the sage, his mind delighted, looked upon her. But the combination of that melodious song and Rambhā’s radiant appearance stirred doubt in the sage’s heart. Perceiving all this as Indra’s doing, the foremost of sages, the son of Kuśika, was seized by anger. In his wrath, he uttered a curse upon 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. Only a brāhmaṇa of great splendor and ascetic power will deliver you from this fate when you have been tainted by my anger.” Having spoken thus, the mighty Viśvāmitra, his energy blazing, found himself unable to contain the storm of anger and distress within. By the force of his curse, Rambhā was instantly transformed into stone. Witnessing this, Kāma departed from that place. Yet, O Rāma, the great-souled sage, still not master of his senses, was overcome by anger and the loss of his ascetic power. His mind found no peace, troubled by the disruption of his penance. With resolve, he vowed, “I will not yield to anger, nor will I speak in any manner. 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 engaged in these austerities, my bodily form shall not perish.” Thus, for a thousand years, that foremost sage undertook an unparalleled vow of penance, his body sustained by the sheer force of his austerity. O Rāma, after this, the great sage Viśvāmitra, abandoning the Himalayan region, journeyed eastward and commenced exceedingly severe austerities. He undertook a vow of silence for a thousand years, practicing an incomparable and supremely difficult asceticism. When the thousand years were completed, Viśvāmitra—now like wood, shaken by many obstacles—did not allow anger to enter his heart. Having made this firm resolve, he continued his inexhaustible penance. When the thousand-year vow was fulfilled, the great ascetic began to take food once more. At that moment, Indra, assuming the form of a brāhmaṇa, approached and asked for the food Viśvāmitra had prepared. True to his vow, the sage gave all the food to the brāhmaṇa and ate nothing himself. He spoke not a word, maintaining his silence. Then, once more, Viśvāmitra observed silence and refrained even from breathing. For another thousand years, he did not breathe. As he remained thus, smoke rose from his head, disturbing the three worlds as if they were afflicted. The gods, sages, gandharvas, serpents, and rākṣasas were bewildered by his ascetic power and brilliance—their own radiance dimmed. All, afflicted and distressed, approached the grandsire, Brahmā, and said, “O Lord, the great sage Viśvāmitra, having been tempted and angered for many reasons, only increases in ascetic power. Not the slightest fault is found in him. If his heart’s desire is not granted, he will destroy the three worlds—everything that moves and does not move—by his penance. All directions are disturbed, nothing is visible. The oceans are agitated, mountains shattered, the earth trembles, and violent winds blow, causing confusion. O Brahmā, we know not what to do; none turns away from faith, yet the three worlds are bewildered and deeply troubled. Even the sun has lost its brilliance before the sage’s radiance. Until he is appeased, O god, no one can think clearly. Until then, this fire-like, greatly radiant sage will burn up the three worlds entirely, just as the fire of destruction did before. Let the sovereignty of the gods be offered to him; let whatever he desires be granted.” Then, all the gods, led by Brahmā, approached the great-souled Viśvāmitra and spoke sweet words: “O Brahmarṣi, welcome! By your austerity, we are truly satisfied. By your intense penance, O Kauśika, you have attained the status of a Brāhmaṇa. O Brahman, I, together with the Maruts, grant you long life. May you attain welfare, may good fortune be yours. Go, gentle one, as you please.” Hearing the words of the Grandfather, spoken by all the dwellers of heaven, Viśvāmitra, filled with joy, bowed in reverence and spoke: “If I have truly attained Brāhmaṇahood and long life as well—” Thus, the tale of Viśvāmitra’s supreme penance and transformation unfolded, O descendant of Raghu, as recounted in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.