Vishvamitra Asks for Ram

Ram and his brothers had grown into thoughtful young princes when Sage Vishvamitra walked into King Dasharatha's court.

Dasharatha came down from his seat to meet him. He touched the sage's feet, gave him a place to sit, and called for water.

"Your coming is good fortune in itself," he said. "Ask for whatever you need. What I have is yours."

Vishvamitra answered that he was carrying out a long observance. Each time it neared completion, Maricha and Subahu spoiled it. During the observance the sage had vowed not to answer anger with anger — so he could not drive them off himself.

"I need a guard," he said. "I need Ram."

The hall went silent.

The colour left Dasharatha's face. Ram was still a boy. These sons had come after years of waiting and a great ceremony.

"Take my whole army," he said. "I will go myself. I will stand in front and fight. But do not ask for Ram — he is too young."

Vishvamitra said nothing. He only looked at the king, and in that look was the promise made a few moments earlier.

Then Vashishtha, the royal teacher, spoke.

"Vishvamitha is not only an ascetic," he told Dasharatha. "He knows both spiritual discipline and every kind of weapon. Ram will be safer beside him than inside this palace. And what the sage can teach him is needed for the road already opening in front of him."

Dasharatha sat a long while without speaking. Then he kept his word.

Ram bowed to his parents and his teachers. Lakshman rose quietly and went to stand beside his brother — nobody had called him, and nobody stopped him.

The three of them left Ayodhya on foot. No chariot, no soldiers. Kaushalya and Sumitra came as far as the gate.

Beside the Sarayu, Vishvamitra stopped.

"Sit," he said. "The road is long, and I am going to give you two disciplines."

They were called Bala and Atibala. They were not weapons. They were trained attention, endurance, memory, and control over hunger and weariness — the kind of strength that matters on a tired night rather than in one moment of battle.

Ram and Lakshman repeated them until they had them exactly. They did not treat the teaching as a shortcut to greatness; they received it with humility.

That night they slept beside the river. In the morning they walked on towards the forest where the trees grew tangled and the villages stood empty.