Having expressed himself thus, the mighty sage Viśvāmitra—his energy vast and uncontainable—found himself overwhelmed by anger and distress. In that moment of intense emotion, he pronounced a powerful curse upon Rambhā, and she was instantly transformed into stone. Kāma, the god of desire, hearing the sage’s formidable words, departed from the scene. Yet, O Rāma, despite his greatness, Viśvāmitra was left deeply unsettled. His ascetic power had been shaken, and, not yet having mastered his senses, he found no peace within. His mind was troubled, tormented by the disruption to his austerities. Determined, he resolved within himself, “I shall not yield to anger, nor will I utter a single word.” He thought further, “If not, I shall refrain from breathing for hundreds of years; I will dry up my very self, conquering my senses.” With steadfast resolve, he vowed, “Until I attain the status of a Brāhmaṇa through asceticism, I will neither breathe nor eat for countless years.” Even as he practiced these severe austerities, his bodily form did not waste away. Thus, for a thousand years, that foremost of sages undertook an unparalleled vow, O descendant of Raghu, his commitment shining forth in the world. Then, O Rāma, the great sage Viśvāmitra left the Himalayan region and journeyed eastward. There, he performed austerities of the utmost severity. He embraced a vow of silence for a thousand years, practicing a level of asceticism that was incomparably difficult. When those thousand years had passed, Viśvāmitra—his body as unyielding as wood, having endured many challenges—remained free from anger, holding firm to his resolve. Having fulfilled his vow, the great ascetic began to eat food again. At that moment, Indra, king of the gods, appeared before him in the guise of a Brāhmaṇa and requested the food that Viśvāmitra had prepared. True to his determination, Viśvāmitra offered all the food to the Brāhmaṇa, keeping nothing for himself. He spoke not a word, maintaining his vow of silence, and once more abstained from breathing. For yet another thousand years, the foremost sage did not draw a single breath. As he remained thus, smoke began to rise from his head, disturbing the balance of the three worlds. The gods, sages, gandharvas, serpents, and rākṣasas all became bewildered by the force of his asceticism and the brilliance that emanated from him, their own radiance diminished. Afflicted and distressed, all these beings approached the grandsire, Brahmā, and pleaded, “O Lord, the great sage Viśvāmitra, though tempted and angered for many reasons, only increases in ascetic power. Not even the slightest fault can be found in him. If his heart’s desire is not granted, he will consume the three worlds—everything that moves and does not move—with his ascetic energy. All directions are in turmoil, nothing can be seen clearly. The oceans are agitated, mountains are shattered, the earth trembles, and the winds blow with violent confusion. O Brahmā, we are at a loss; though none of us lose faith, the three worlds are bewildered and deeply disturbed. Even the sun’s brilliance has faded before the sage’s radiance. Until Viśvāmitra is appeased, no one can think clearly. If not, this fire-like 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.” Thus resolved, all the gods, led by Brahmā, approached Viśvāmitra and spoke to him in sweet words: “O Brahmarṣi, welcome! We are truly satisfied by your austerity. By your intense asceticism, O Kauśika, you have attained the status of a Brāhmaṇa. O Brahman, I, together with the Maruts, bestow upon you long life. May you attain welfare and good fortune. Go as you please, gentle one.” Hearing these words of the grandsire, echoed by all the dwellers of heaven, Viśvāmitra bowed joyfully and replied, “If I have indeed attained Brāhmaṇahood and long life, then let the sacred syllable Oṃ, the Vaṣaṭ call, and the Vedas themselves choose me. Let me be foremost among those who know the Kṣatra Veda and among those who know the Brahma Veda. Let Vasiṣṭha, son of Brahmā, declare this before the gods. If this, my highest wish, is fulfilled, let the best of the gods depart.” Pleased by the gods, Vasiṣṭha—the foremost of reciters—made friendship with Viśvāmitra the Brahmarṣi and declared, “So be it. You are indeed a Brahmarṣi, without doubt; all is accomplished for you.” Having spoken thus, all the gods departed as they had come. Viśvāmitra, his soul righteous and fulfilled, having attained the highest Brāhmaṇahood, honored the Brahmarṣi Vasiṣṭha, foremost among reciters. With his desire fulfilled, Viśvāmitra wandered the earth, steadfast in asceticism. In this way, O Rāma, the great-souled Viśvāmitra attained the highest status of a Brāhmaṇa. This, O best of sages, is Rāma; this is asceticism embodied, the highest righteousness, ever constant, the supreme refuge of valor. Thus spoke the illustrious sage, and when Śatānanda finished recounting these deeds in the presence of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, King Janaka, with joined palms, addressed the son of Kuśika: “Blessed am I, truly favored, O foremost of sages, by your presence. You, O Kauśika, have come to my sacrifice accompanied by the descendant of Kakutstha. I am purified by your very sight, O Brāhmaṇa, O great sage.