Lakshmana smilingly retorted in a gentle tone, ‘Aha, the great sage considers himself an extraordinary warrior! He flaunts his axe before me again and again, as if he would blow away a mountain with a puff!

Here there is no pumpkin in the bud that would wither away at the sight of the index finger. It was only when I saw you armed with an axe and a bow and arrows that I spoke a little arrogantly.

Now that I understand you are a descendant of Bhrigu and perceive a sacred thread on your person. I will suppress my anger and put up with anything you say. In our family valour is never displayed against gods or Brahmans or votaries of Hari or cows;

-for to kill any of these is a sin and to suffer defeat at their hands a disgrace. We should throw ourselves at your feet even if you strike us. Your every word is like ten million thunderbolts; the bow and arrows and the axe are, therefore, an unnecessary burden to you.

Pardon me, O great and illumined sage, if I have said anything improper at the sight of your weapons’. When he heard this, the jewel of the Bhrigu race furiously rejoined in his deep-toned voice:

‘Listen, O Vishvamitra! This boy is stupid and perverse, death-doomed himself and the ruin of his whole family! A stain on the moon-like Solar race, he is utterly unruly, demented and reckless!

Another moment he shall find himself a morsel in the jaws of death; I proclaim it at the top of my voice and none should blame me for it. Forbid him, if you would save him, by telling him of my glory, my might and my fury!’