The thousand-eyed Indra, seeing Rambhā trembling before him with her hands joined in supplication, spoke to her reassuringly: “Do not be afraid, Rambhā; may all be well with you. Carry out my command.” He then explained his plan: “In the delightful springtime, amidst beautiful trees, I will remain by your side together with Kāma, the god of love, and the sweet song of the cuckoo will enrapture the heart of the sage.” Indra instructed Rambhā, radiant with beauty and adorned with many virtues, to go and disturb the great sage Kauśika—Viśvāmitra—who was deeply absorbed in his austerities. Hearing Indra’s words, Rambhā assumed a form of unsurpassed loveliness, her smile pure and enchanting. Thus transformed, she set out to entice the sage Viśvāmitra. As Viśvāmitra sat in meditation, the sweet voice of the cuckoo reached his ears, filling his mind with delight. Lifting his gaze, he beheld the exquisite Rambhā before him. The combination of the cuckoo’s melodious call, the enchanting song, and Rambhā’s radiant presence unsettled the sage, sowing doubt in his heart. But Viśvāmitra, discerning the hand of Indra in these events, became seized with anger. The great sage, son of Kuśika, unable to contain his fury, pronounced a curse upon Rambhā: “Because you tempt me, Rambhā, who strives for victory over desire and anger, you, unfortunate one, shall become a stone for ten thousand years.” Yet, in his compassion, he added, “A Brāhmaṇa of great splendor and power, through his own austerity, will deliver you from this state when you have been touched by my anger.” Having spoken thus, the mighty Viśvāmitra, overwhelmed by his own wrath and sorrow, could not find peace within. By the power of his curse, Rambhā was instantly transformed into stone. Kāma, witnessing the sage’s words and the fate of Rambhā, departed from that place. Viśvāmitra, now overtaken by anger and feeling the loss of his ascetic power, found his mind deeply troubled. His senses were not yet fully mastered, and he could not find rest. Disturbed by the disruption of his penance, he resolved within himself, “I will not give in to anger, nor will I utter a single word. Or else, I will not even breathe for hundreds of years; I will dry up my very self, having conquered my senses. Until I attain the status of a Brāhmaṇa, earned through asceticism, I shall neither breathe nor eat for countless years.” He further resolved that, while practicing these severe austerities, his bodily form would not perish. Thus, for a thousand years, the great sage undertook an unparalleled vow, unmatched in all the world. Having completed this period of austerity, Viśvāmitra left the Himalayan region and journeyed eastward, where he continued his penance with even greater severity. There he observed a vow of silence for another thousand years, practicing an incomparable and supremely difficult asceticism. When these thousand years were fulfilled, the sage—now like a piece of wood, worn by many obstacles—remained steadfast, not allowing anger to enter his heart. Having made this firm resolve, he engaged in inexhaustible asceticism. At the end of his vow, Viśvāmitra began to take food, but at that very moment, Indra, disguised as a Brāhmaṇa, approached and asked for the food that had been prepared. True to his determination, Viśvāmitra gave all the food to the Brāhmaṇa and ate nothing himself. He maintained his vow of silence, speaking not a word, and again refrained from breathing. For yet another thousand years, the foremost sage did not draw a breath. As he remained motionless and breathless, smoke began to rise from his head, disturbing the three worlds as if they were afflicted by some great calamity. The gods, sages, gandharvas, serpents, and rākṣasas were all bewildered by the sage’s ascetic power and brilliance, which dimmed even their own radiance. Afflicted and distressed, they approached the grandsire Brahmā for counsel. They said, “O Lord, the great sage Viśvāmitra, having been tempted and angered in so many ways, only grows in ascetic might. Not even the slightest fault can be found in him. If his heart’s desire is not fulfilled, he will surely destroy the three worlds with all their beings, moving and unmoving. All directions are disturbed, and nothing is visible. The oceans are agitated, mountains are shattered, the earth trembles, and the winds blow violently, causing confusion everywhere. O Brahmā, we do not know what to do. None of us doubts his power, but the three worlds are bewildered and distressed. Even the sun has lost its brilliance before the sage’s radiance. Until Viśvāmitra is appeased, no one can think clearly. If he remains unappeased, he will burn up the three worlds entirely, as the fire of destruction did before. Let the sovereignty of the gods be offered to him; let whatever is in his mind be granted.” Hearing this, all the gods, led by Brahmā, approached Viśvāmitra and addressed him gently: “O Brahmarṣi, welcome! By your austerity, we are truly satisfied. By your intense asceticism, O Kauśika, you have attained the status of a Brāhmaṇa. I, together with the Maruts, grant you long life. May you have welfare and good fortune; go as you please.” Hearing these words of the Grandsire, spoken by all the dwellers of heaven, Viśvāmitra, filled with joy, offered his obeisance and replied, “If I have indeed attained Brāhmaṇahood and long life as well, then let the sacred syllable Oṃ, the Vaṣaṭ call, and the Vedas themselves choose me. Let me be the foremost among those who know the Kṣatra Veda, and even among those who know the Brahma Veda.” Thus, the great sage Viśvāmitra, through immense trials, temptations, and unyielding austerity, attained the highest status and was honored by all the gods and beings of the three worlds.