In a time long past, there existed a venerable sage named Vibhāṇḍaka, the son of Kāśyapa, who lived in the serene embrace of the forest. His son, Ṛśyaśṛṅga, was destined to follow in his father's footsteps, growing up in solitude, immersed in the disciplined life of a sage. Ṛśyaśṛṅga was a Brahmin of great renown, devoted to a strict regimen of celibacy, and his existence was known among the people as one marked by purity and dedication. As fate would have it, during this time, a mighty king named Romapada ruled over the land of Anga. He was a powerful monarch, well-respected among his subjects. However, a grave transgression committed by the king led to a terrible calamity that threatened his kingdom. In his desperation, he summoned the wise Brahmins, those learned in sacred rites and customs, seeking counsel on how to remedy the dire situation. "O revered Brahmins," he implored, "instruct me on the proper disciplines and expiations I must perform." The Brahmins, wise in the ways of the Vedas, advised him to bring Ṛśyaśṛṅga to the kingdom, for they believed that the sage's presence would restore prosperity. "Honor him and offer him your daughter, Shanta, in marriage," they said. Upon hearing this suggestion, the king felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. How could he possibly bring such a powerful sage to his court? After much deliberation with his ministers, Romapada resolved to send his priests and counselors to honorably invite Ṛśyaśṛṅga. Yet, when the king's command reached them, they hesitated, intimidated by the sage's formidable reputation. They expressed their fears to the king, but after further consideration, they reassured him, "We will bring the sage here, and there will be no fault in this." Thus, the king's men devised a plan. They decided to send beautiful courtesans, adorned with exquisite ornaments, to entice Ṛśyaśṛṅga from his forest abode. "Let them employ their charms and persuasive words," the king declared, "and let it be done without any fault." With the king’s approval, the courtesans ventured into the great forest, determined to see the sage. Ṛśyaśṛṅga, who had lived a life of austerity and devotion, was unacquainted with the ways of the world—never having seen a woman or known the pleasures of life beyond the forest. The courtesans approached him, their voices sweet and alluring, and they asked, "Who are you, O Brahmin? What brings you to this desolate forest?" Intrigued by their beauty, Ṛśyaśṛṅga introduced himself, saying, "I am the son of Vibhandaka, known as Ṛśyaśṛṅga. My hermitage is nearby, and I will offer you hospitality." The courtesans, enchanted by his innocence and grace, accepted his invitation and followed him to the hermitage. There, Ṛśyaśṛṅga welcomed them with the traditional hospitality of water for washing and roots and fruits for nourishment. However, the courtesans, feeling the weight of their mission and fearing the sage's father, soon decided to leave. They offered him their finest fruits, urging him to enjoy them, for they were sweet and delightful. As Ṛśyaśṛṅga tasted the fruits, he marveled at their flavors, having never experienced such delicacies before. The courtesans, filled with joy at his innocence, embraced him and shared with him sweet cakes and various delightful foods, all while keeping their true purpose hidden. After a time, they took their leave, having fulfilled their task, and returned to the king with the news of their success. Thus, Ṛśyaśṛṅga was brought to the kingdom of Anga, and in due time, he was honored with the hand of Princess Shanta in marriage. Their union would bring forth prosperity and blessings, as foretold by the wise Sanatkumāra. And so, the tale of Ṛśyaśṛṅga, the sage’s son, became woven into the rich tapestry of the kingdom, a story of devotion, innocence, and the intertwining of destinies.