At the moment the powerful sage uttered his curse, Rambhā was instantly transformed into stone. Witnessing the sage’s wrath and hearing his words, Kāma, the god of desire, departed from that place. Yet, Rāma, the sage himself was left deeply agitated. Anger and the loss of his hard-earned ascetic power unsettled his mind. Though he was great-souled, his senses were not yet fully mastered, and he found no peace within. Tormented by the disruption of his penance, the sage resolved firmly within himself: he would not yield to anger, nor would he utter a single word. Instead, he determined, “I shall not breathe, even for hundreds of years. I will dry up my very self, having conquered my senses.” He vowed that, until he attained the status of a Brāhmaṇa—earned through the fire of asceticism—he would neither breathe nor eat for countless years. Yet, through all this, he declared, his bodily form would not perish while he practiced his austerities. Thus, O descendant of Raghu, that foremost of sages undertook an unparalleled vow, maintaining it for a thousand years. Having completed this vow, the narrative tells us, the sage left the Himalayan region and journeyed eastward, where he performed even more severe austerities. There, he undertook a vow of silence for another thousand years, practicing an incomparable and supremely difficult asceticism. When this thousand-year period was fulfilled, the sage, now as unmoving as wood and shaken by many obstacles, did not allow anger to enter his heart. Resolute, he continued his inexhaustible penance. At the end of this vow, the great ascetic began to take food again. At that time, Indra, king of the gods, approached him disguised as a Brāhmaṇa and requested the food that had been prepared. True to his word, the sage gave all the food to the Brāhmaṇa and, having given everything, did not eat himself. Maintaining his vow of silence, he spoke not a word to the Brāhmaṇa and again entered into silence, abstaining even from breathing. For yet another thousand years, the foremost sage held his breath, so intense was his ascetic discipline that smoke began to rise from his head. The three worlds themselves seemed afflicted by this smoke, and all—gods, sages, gandharvas, serpents, and rākṣasas—were bewildered by the magnitude of his penance and the brilliance he radiated. Their own splendor seemed dimmed by his light, and, troubled and distressed, they approached Brahmā, the Grandsire of all. They said, “O Lord, the great sage Viśvāmitra, though tempted and angered in many ways, 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 surely destroy the three worlds—everything that moves and does not move—by the force of his penance. All directions are disturbed, nothing is visible; the oceans are agitated, mountains are shattered, the earth trembles, and violent winds blow, causing confusion everywhere. O Brahmā, we do not know what to do. No one denies your sovereignty, but the three worlds are bewildered and deeply disturbed. Even the sun’s brilliance is lost in the sage’s radiance. Until he is appeased, no one can think clearly. Until then, this fire-like, greatly radiant sage will burn up the worlds entirely, just as the fire of destruction did before. Let the sovereignty of the gods be offered to him; let whatever is in his heart be granted.” Then, led by Brahmā, all the hosts of gods approached Viśvāmitra and addressed him with 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. Together with the Maruts, I grant you long life. May you attain welfare and good fortune; go as you please, gentle one.” Hearing these words from the Grandsire and all the dwellers of heaven, the great sage Viśvāmitra joyfully made obeisance and spoke: “If I have truly 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 even among those who know the Brahma Veda. Let Vasiṣṭha, son of Brahmā, declare this before all the gods. If this supreme wish is fulfilled, let the best of the gods depart.” Pleased by his words, Vasiṣṭha—the foremost of those who recite the Vedas—made friendship with the Brahmarṣi and said, “So be it. You are indeed a Brahmarṣi, there is no doubt. All is accomplished for you.” Having spoken thus, all the gods departed as they had come. Viśvāmitra, now righteous-souled and having attained the highest Brāhmaṇahood, honored the Brahmarṣi Vasiṣṭha, foremost among reciters. Having fulfilled his desire, he wandered over the earth, established in asceticism. In this way, O Rāma, the great-souled Viśvāmitra attained Brāhmaṇahood. This, O best of sages, is Rāma; this is asceticism embodied, the highest righteousness, ever constant; this is the supreme refuge of valor. Having related this tale, the illustrious sage fell silent. Hearing these words in the presence of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, King Janaka, with joined palms, spoke reverently to the son of Kuśika: “Blessed am I, favored am I, O foremost of sages, by whose presence you have come to my sacrifice, accompanied by the descendant of Kakutstha. I am purified by you, O Brāhmaṇa, by your very sight, O great sage. Many and various virtues have come to me through seeing you; and, O Brāhmaṇa, your great austerity has been extolled in detail.