Then, O Kauśika, you should behold the gods who have assembled here, seeking their shares. With these words, the king, his face alight with joy, addressed the tiger among sages, Viśvāmitra. Yet, even as the sacred rituals drew to a close, King Janaka, his hands joined in reverence and his heart full of devotion, respectfully inquired, “May you be blessed, O sage! Who are these two youthful heroes, equal to the gods in valor, who stand beside you?” Janaka’s gaze lingered admiringly upon the princes: heroes whose stride rivaled that of noble elephants, whose bearing was as majestic as tigers or bulls. Their eyes, broad and radiant like lotuses, shone with youthful vigor. Clad in fine garments and bearing swords, quivers, and bows, they stood at the threshold of manhood, their beauty reminiscent of the Aśvins themselves. “They seem to have arrived on this earth as if by chance, like immortals descended from the celestial realms. How have they come here on foot? For what purpose, and whose sons are they, O sage?” Janaka asked, his curiosity deepening. “These heroes, armed with excellent weapons, adorn this land as the moon and sun adorn the sky. O great sage, whose sons are they?” He continued, “They resemble each other in stature, gestures, and movement—heroes with hair dark as crow’s wings. I long to hear the truth about them.” Hearing these heartfelt questions from the noble Janaka, the immeasurable sage Viśvāmitra revealed, “They are the sons of Daśaratha.” He spoke of their residence at Siddhāśrama, the slaying of the rākṣasas, their peaceful arrival in this land, and the sight of Viśālā. He recounted their meeting with Ahalyā, her reunion with Gautama, and their coming to test the great bow. All this the illustrious sage Viśvāmitra narrated to Janaka before pausing. Now begins the fifty-first sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa. Hearing Viśvāmitra’s words, the wise Śatānanda—radiant and ascetic—felt his hair stand on end in wonder. Śatānanda, Gautama’s eldest son, shining with the power of his austerity, was filled with awe merely by beholding Rāma. Seeing the two princes seated comfortably, Śatānanda addressed Viśvāmitra, the foremost of sages. “O tiger among sages,” he asked, “did my illustrious mother, long devoted to severe austerities, appear before the royal prince? Did she, resplendent and steadfast, offer Rāma the worship due to all beings, with gifts from the forest? Was it told to Rāma, what happened long ago—what my glorious mother suffered at the hands of the god? O Kauśika, was my mother, best of sages’ wives, reunited with my father, her teacher, after seeing Rāma? O son of Kuśika, did my father honor Rāma, the great-souled one, who came here and received worship? Did my father, with a peaceful mind, receive honor and greeting from Rāma, who came here?” Hearing these earnest questions, the great sage Viśvāmitra, skilled in speech, replied, “O best of sages, nothing has been left undone by me. The wife was indeed reunited with the sage, as Reṇukā was with Bhārgava.” Hearing these words, Śatānanda, radiant with joy and wisdom, turned to Rāma and spoke: “Welcome to you, best of men! By great fortune you have come, O Rāghava, guided here by the unconquered sage Viśvāmitra. Know that Viśvāmitra, of immeasurable brilliance, is a brahmarṣi whose deeds are beyond thought, attained by the highest austerity. I know his supreme state. There is no one on earth more blessed than you, Rāma, for the son of Kuśika, who performed the greatest austerity, is your protector.” He continued, “Listen as I recount, as best I can and as it truly happened, the story of the great sage Kauśika. Hear it from me as I narrate.” “He was a righteous king, a subduer of foes for a long time, learned in dharma, accomplished in knowledge, and devoted to the welfare of his people. There was a king named Kuśa, son of Prajāpati; Kuśa’s son was the powerful and supremely righteous Kuśanābha. Kuśanābha’s son was the renowned Gādhi, and Gādhi’s son, the great and radiant sage, was Viśvāmitra.” “The mighty and illustrious Viśvāmitra ruled the earth for many thousands of years, governing as king. Once, the great and radiant king assembled his army and, surrounded by his divisions, journeyed across the land. He traveled through cities, kingdoms, rivers, and great mountains, and, visiting hermitages in turn, he arrived at one.” “He reached the hermitage of Vasiṣṭha, adorned with flowering vines and trees, filled with many kinds of animals, and frequented by perfected beings and celestial wanderers. It was graced by gods, demons, gandharvas, and kinnaras; tranquil and filled with peaceful deer, attended by groups of twice-born sages. The hermitage was crowded with assemblies of brahmarṣis and hosts of devarṣis, inhabited by great souls accomplished in asceticism, resembling fire in their austerity.” “There, illustrious sages, resembling Brahmā himself, dwelled—some subsisting on water, some on air, others eating only fallen leaves. There were sages who ate only fruits and roots, self-restrained, having conquered their faults and senses, including the Vālakhilyas, devoted to recitation and sacrifice. The hermitage was further adorned on all sides by other Vaikhānasa sages. Viśvāmitra, foremost among the victorious and mighty, beheld Vasiṣṭha’s hermitage, which seemed like another world of Brahmā.” Now begins the fifty-second sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa.