As the radiant sun, beaming with a thousand golden rays, shone down upon the earth with the gentle clarity of autumn, Viśvāmitra, the son of Kuśika, took charge of all their duties for the night. Thus, the three—Viśvāmitra and the noble sons of Daśaratha—spent a blissful night along the sacred banks of the Sarayu River. Though Rama and Lakṣmaṇa, those illustrious princes, rested upon a humble bed of grass, they were enveloped in warmth and care, for Viśvāmitra attended to them with loving words. The night seemed to glow with happiness itself, as if joy had taken tangible form in their simple camp. When dawn broke and the darkness faded, the great sage Viśvāmitra approached Rama, who was still lying upon his leafy bed. With gentle urgency, he addressed him, “O Rama, son of Kausalya, blessed scion of a noble line, the early dawn is upon us. Arise, O tiger among men, for it is time to perform the divine duties of the day.” Heeding the sage’s kind words, Rama and Lakṣmaṇa, ever heroic, rose. They bathed in the cool river, offered water in reverence, and recited their sacred prayers. Their morning rites complete, the two mighty princes, hearts filled with joy, approached Viśvāmitra, respectfully greeting the ascetic whose austerities were renowned, and stood ready to continue their journey. Setting forth, Rama and Lakṣmaṇa soon beheld the divine river, its waters splitting into three streams at the auspicious confluence of the Sarayu. There, on the riverbank, they saw a holy hermitage—ancient and serene—where sages of purified souls had practiced supreme austerity for thousands of years. Filled with wonder and delight, the sons of Raghu turned to Viśvāmitra, eager to know more. “O revered one, whose sacred hermitage is this? Who dwells here? Our curiosity is great—please tell us its story.” Viśvāmitra smiled at their eagerness and replied, “Listen, Rama, and I will tell you of this ancient hermitage. Here, long ago, Kāma—the god of love, as he is known among the wise—beheld Lord Śiva engaged in deep, austere penance, steadfast in discipline. When Śiva, newly wed and accompanied by the hosts of Maruts, was passing by, Kāma, overtaken by desire, dared to disturb his meditation. The great Lord rebuked him, and, in his wrath, struck Kāma down with a mere glance. Kāma’s body was consumed and shattered, leaving him bodiless—henceforth known as Anaṅga, the bodiless one. The place where his body fell became known as Aṅgaviṣaya, the blessed region.” He continued, “This is the sacred hermitage of Kāma, and these are his ancient disciples, devoted to righteousness and free from sin. Let us spend the night here, O Rama of auspicious vision, between these two holy rivers. Tomorrow, we shall cross to the other side. Let us approach this hermitage with pure minds; our stay here will be excellent, and we shall rest in comfort.” Following Viśvāmitra’s guidance, they bathed, recited their prayers, and offered oblations. As they conversed, the resident ascetics, their eyes bright from years of austerity, recognized their distinguished guests. Overjoyed, the sages approached, offering water for washing feet and other marks of hospitality to Viśvāmitra. Rama and Lakṣmaṇa, too, were honored with rites of welcome, and the sages delighted them with pleasant stories. As evening descended, the sages joined in prayer, their minds focused and vows steadfast, accompanied by all the virtuous ascetics of the hermitage. In this sacred abode of Kāma, they dwelt happily, and Viśvāmitra, ever righteous, entertained Rama and Lakṣmaṇa with delightful tales through the night. With the coming of dawn, when the day was clear and bright, Rama and Lakṣmaṇa, destroyers of enemies, completed their morning rites. Together with Viśvāmitra, they approached the riverbank. The great-souled sages, steadfast in their vows, prepared a fine boat and invited Viśvāmitra and the princes to board, wishing them a safe and timely journey. After honoring the sages, Viśvāmitra and the two princes crossed the river that flowed towards the ocean. As they reached the middle of the stream, a tumultuous sound arose from the agitated waters. Curious, Rama turned to the eminent sage and asked, “What is this loud noise from the breaking waters?” Viśvāmitra explained, “Listen, Rama. On Mount Kailasa, Brahma created a supreme lake—Mānasa—born from his very mind. From this sacred lake, the river Sarayu flows forth and approaches Ayodhya. This sound you hear is the incomparable voice of the Sarayu herself, born from the movement of her waters. Offer your salutations to her, O Rama.” At the sage’s instruction, Rama and Lakṣmaṇa, ever righteous, offered their respectful salutations to the sacred river. Having reached the southern bank, the two princes swiftly proceeded onward with Viśvāmitra. Soon, they came upon a forest of fearsome aspect. Rama, the descendant of Ikshvaku, unvanquished and ever inquisitive, turned to the sage and asked, “O revered one, this forest appears formidable, filled with multitudes of crickets. It is crowded with fierce beasts and birds whose cries are harsh and dreadful.” Thus, their journey continued, guided by the wisdom of Viśvāmitra, through sacred places and mysterious forests, ever seeking the deeper truths and wonders of the world.