Indra summoned the heavenly nymph Rambha and commanded her to distract the sage Vishvamitra and keep him ensnared in her charms for as long as possible. Rambha, folding her hands in reverence, expressed her concern, saying, “This sage is of an intensely fiery disposition. The moment he perceives your scheme, he may unleash irreversible wrath.”
Indra, however, reassured her. “Fear not, for Kamadeva, the god of love, will be with you to enhance favorable conditions. I myself shall accompany you in the guise of a cuckoo, filling the air with a song that will evoke a mood of enchantment in the sage’s heart.” Emboldened by this assurance, Rambha descended upon the hermitage, adorned in beguiling attire, resplendent in color and form.
Indra, disguised as a cuckoo, sang a hauntingly sweet melody that reverberated through the grove, while Kamadeva suffused the atmosphere with a cool, lustrous allure. The gentle vibrations from the cuckoo’s song permeated the tender leaves and budding flowers, filling Vishvamitra with an uncharacteristic joy. In this moment of delicate vulnerability, Rambha appeared before him.
But the sage, growing suspicious of the uncanny beauty of the scene, demanded that she reveal her purpose. Trembling, Rambha admitted the truth. Enraged, Vishvamitra cursed her, condemning her to transform into an immovable stone, to remain so until released by a virtuous and celibate Vedic scholar. Instantly, she became stone. Apprehensive of further consequences, Indra and Kamadeva departed quietly.
Left alone, Vishvamitra soon repented his impulsive anger, realizing he had squandered a significant portion of the power he had accumulated through years of rigorous penance. He resolved to master his emotions, vowing never to succumb to anger, temptation, or imbalance again. Immersed in austerity, he continued his penance with minimal sustenance, moving from the northern regions to the east, where he subsisted solely on water. Gradually, his flesh dwindled, until he appeared as little more than a walking skeleton—yet his spirit and resolve grew ever more indomitable. His senses now subdued, he was close to reaching his goal.
After countless years of penance, a day arrived when he decided to partake of a simple meal. Just as he was about to consume his offering after prayers, he heard a voice: “I am hungry; grant me sustenance and save me.” Without hesitation, he offered the food and water with due ritual. The recipient, who was none other than Indra in his true form, thanked him and reported Vishvamitra’s progress to Brahma.
Vishvamitra, having conquered his wrath, renewed his penance, sustaining himself without food or water, breathing in the essence of his discipline. The energy of his penance began radiating with an intensity that disturbed the entire cosmos, creating tremors, causing shockwaves among all beings, and filling the heavens with fear.
Sages, celestials, and divine beings approached Brahma, pleading with him, “Vishvamitra’s severe austerities have reached such heights that they are shaking the universe. If left unchecked, his power may destabilize creation itself. Please, fulfill his desire and restore balance.”
Thus, Brahma, accompanied by his celestial entourage, visited Vishvamitra. “O Brahmarishi!” he proclaimed. “Your devotion has elevated you to the highest order of Brahmins. You are the foremost among royal sages and Brahmarishis. Speak your desire, and it shall be granted.”
Overjoyed by this divine recognition, Vishvamitra requested, “Bestow upon me the knowledge of the four Vedas and the Vedangas, and declare me worthy to teach them.” Brahma consented, enhancing Vishvamitra’s longevity and granting his request. With hands folded, Vishvamitra then humbly asked for Vasistha’s acknowledgment of his status as a Brahmarishi.
At the request of the gods, Vasistha approached and, with due reverence, declared, “Indeed, you are a Brahmarishi. None can rival your accomplishments. You embody the wisdom of a king and the insight of a Brahmin sage.” Satisfied, Vishvamitra bade farewell and traveled far and wide, spreading the ancient virtues.
As the story reached its end, Sage Satananda, who had recounted Vishvamitra’s tale, paused. King Janaka, deeply moved, folded his hands in gratitude. “O revered sage! Your narration has filled us with joy and a sense of awe for Vishvamitra’s unparalleled journey and leadership in all realms of existence. We are blessed to have your presence here, and the honored guests Rama and Lakshmana among us.”
With the sun setting, Janaka sought permission to retire for the evening, promising to reconvene at dawn. With the first light, he returned with his retinue, heralded by the sounds of conch, shehnai, and drums, accompanied by court singers. Vishvamitra requested to see the divine bow, explaining its significance to Rama and Lakshmana.
King Janaka spoke, “This sacred bow, a legacy of my ancestors since Devaratha, of the sixth generation of Emperor Nimi, was left here by the gods. After Virabhadra destroyed Daksha’s sacrifice, Shiva, furious, intended to use this bow to destroy the gods for denying him his share of the sacrificial offerings. But the gods implored him for mercy, and thus the bow was left in our care.”
Continuing, he said, “One day, while plowing the earth, I discovered a goddess-like child within a box. I adopted her, and she has grown radiant with divinity. Many kings have sought her hand, but I have withheld her, knowing she is destined for one of unparalleled worth. These suitors, united in frustration, besieged Mithila, disturbing my people. I performed deep penance, gaining mastery over all forms of warfare and an army of four divisions. With this strength, I drove them away. Yet I believe these sons of Dasaratha are worthy to test this divine bow.”
The morning light dawned on what was destined to be a monumental event, revealing the ancient mysteries that lay hidden in the folds of time.