The sun rose once more, bathing the earth in golden light, as Sage Vishwamitra led Rama and Lakshmana towards the city of Mithila. But before reaching the splendid city, the sage paused beside an ancient ashram, now silent and forgotten.
“This,” the sage spoke gently, “was once the dwelling of Sage Gautama and his beautiful wife, Ahalya. Listen, Rama, to a tale of sorrow and grace.”
Long ago, Ahalya was the pride of all creation — her beauty unmatched, her heart pure. But fate played a cruel trick. The mighty Indra, king of the heavens, was enchanted by her beauty. Disguising himself as Sage Gautama, he approached Ahalya. Deceived by his trickery, Ahalya fell victim to the god’s mischief.
When Sage Gautama returned and saw the betrayal, his heart burned with anger and grief. With a heavy voice, he cursed Ahalya, “You shall turn into stone, unseen by the world, until the day Rama, born of noble virtue, sets you free.”
The earth had swallowed Ahalya’s laughter and her tears ever since, and she lay hidden — a silent stone, waiting for the moment of her redemption.
Vishwamitra’s voice trembled as he turned to Rama. “O Rama, free her. Release this pure soul from her curse.”
Rama, whose heart was as soft as it was strong, stepped forward. With reverence, he placed his foot gently upon the stone.
In that very instant, the curse melted away like mist before the morning sun. The stone shimmered and transformed, and from it arose Ahalya — radiant once more, her eyes filled with gratitude and devotion.
Sage Gautama, who had long since vanished into the forests, returned, drawn by the power of this moment. Seeing his wife restored and purified, his anger vanished like a dark cloud lifted by the wind. With open arms, he welcomed Ahalya, and together, they bowed before Rama.
“Blessed are we,” they whispered, “to witness your grace. You are no mere prince, O Rama, but divinity itself.”
With humble hearts, Rama and Lakshmana received their blessings. The forest sighed in relief, and even the skies seemed brighter, as if rejoicing at this reunion.
Their journey continued, the air fragrant with the scent of blossoms, as the path led them to the grand gates of Mithila — a city known far and wide for its noble king, Janaka, and his most wondrous daughter, Sita.
Little did Rama know, his destiny was waiting — not just in the city’s grand halls, but in the eyes of a princess whose story was about to be entwined with his, forever.