As soon as the sage arrived, the king received him with deep reverence. He honored the sage, bowing respectfully, and then bowed inwardly, as the vast ocean bows to the moon reflected within its own waters. He spoke warmly, assuring the sage that whatever purpose had brought him here was already fulfilled, for the sage was greatly honored by him. The king urged the sage, Kaushika, to reflect upon his own duty, confident that nothing was unattainable for one so venerable. He added that the matter at hand should be considered according to righteousness, declaring himself entirely the sage’s agent, and recognizing the sage as the supreme divinity. Hearing these words, spoken with understanding and humility, and filled with virtues reflecting the king’s noble qualities, the sage—foremost among sages—was filled with supreme joy. Vishvamitra, radiant and wondrous, his hair standing on end, addressed the king. He remarked that such conduct was fitting only for the king, a tiger among kings, born of a great lineage and guided by the wisdom of Vasistha. Vishvamitra then revealed the matter weighing on his heart, asking the king to decide its proper course in accordance with righteousness. He explained that he had undertaken a vow for accomplishment, but terrible demons had arisen to obstruct it. Whenever he performed sacrifices for the gods, these night-wandering demons would destroy them. Many times, even the chiefs among the rākṣasas had performed sacrifices there, offering flesh and blood upon the earth. When the sacrificial assembly became so defiled, Vishvamitra, weary and disheartened, departed from that place. He assured the king that his mind did not incline toward anger, and that no curse was appropriate for such acts. His forbearance regarding the great sacrifice was steadfast, and he prayed that, by the king’s grace, he might attain the great fruit without hindrance. Vishvamitra pleaded for protection, having come afflicted and seeking refuge, reminding the king that abandoning those who seek help is a reproach among the virtuous. The sage then spoke of the king’s son, Rāma, illustrious and heroic, possessing the prowess of a lion and the strength of Indra, destroyer of rākṣasas. Vishvamitra requested that Rāma, steadfast in truth and valor, bearing dark locks and being the eldest, be given to him. Protected by the sage and endowed with his own divine brilliance, Rāma would be able to subdue those evil rākṣasas. Vishvamitra promised to grant Rāma a blessing, manifold and endless, by which he would be honored in all three worlds. He declared that when Rāma confronted the night-dwellers, they would not be able to withstand him, just as deer cannot face an enraged lion in the forest. No one besides Kakutstha was capable of fighting them, except for the lion among men, just as only a lion can confront enraged, intoxicated elephants. The wicked ones, emboldened by their strength, were like deadly poison in battle—the servants of Khara and Dushana, furious as death itself. Vishvamitra assured the king that the arrows of Rāma would not be endured by them, just as dust cannot withstand the constant streams of rain from a cloud. He urged the king not to let affection for his son sway him, for there is nothing in this world that should not be given to a great soul. Vishvamitra declared with certainty that the rākṣasas would be slain, for wise men do not act with hesitation when action is required. He affirmed that he knew Rāma, the great soul with lotus-like eyes, as did the mighty Vasistha and others of far-reaching vision. If righteousness, greatness, and fame were established in the king’s mind, Vishvamitra urged him to give his own son, as the sage desired. He explained that he had a sacrifice lasting ten nights, during which Rāma must slay the rākṣasas who were his enemies and obstructors of his sacrifice. Vishvamitra requested that the king’s ministers, led by Vasiṣṭha, grant their approval, and then release Rāma accordingly. He reminded the king, a knower of time, that time does not overstep its bounds, and advised him to act for his welfare without letting sorrow trouble his mind. Even a small act, done at the right time, becomes beneficial; but even a great act, if untimely, becomes fruitless. Having spoken these words, filled with righteousness and purpose, the illustrious sage Viśvāmitra fell silent. Hearing the sage’s words, the mighty king stood silently, recognizing it was fitting to do so. For even with reasoned speech, satisfaction does not arise in the wise whose wishes remain unfulfilled, nor in the world. The king, deeply moved, sat motionless for a moment, filled with sorrow, and then spoke. He explained that his lotus-eyed son, Rāma, was not yet sixteen years old, and he did not see him fit for battle with the rākṣasas. The king offered instead his full akshauhini, a mighty army under his command, to give battle to the flesh-eaters. He described his valiant and courageous servants, skilled in weapons, and himself at the forefront, holding the bow as their protector in war. With these forces, he offered to confront even enemies as mighty as Mahendra, like a lion among intoxicated elephants. He explained that young Rāma, within the ranks, did not know strength or weakness; except for the inner chambers, he had not seen any battlefield. Rāma was not equipped with supreme weapons, nor skilled in warfare, nor did he know the fierce frowns of warriors in the heat of battle.