Hear now the birth-song of Vasiṣṭha, the sage and the seer, the ancestor of our line. Not born of woman's womb, yet born he was—born of the gods themselves, born of immortal power.

Mitra and Varuṇa, the mighty oath-keepers, did gaze upon Urvaśī, the most beautiful of the apsaras, the celestial dancing maidens. Her form was as gold; her grace was beyond measure. The very sight of her kindled desire in the hearts of the immortals.

From their union came forth Vasiṣṭha—child not of earth but of heaven itself. The gods did nurture him with amrita, the drink of immortality. He grew in wisdom and in power, surpassing all the mortal sages.

In the great battle of the Ten Kings, Vasiṣṭha stood beside Sumantu and the king Sudās. The enemy did array themselves against him—ten thousand strong, they said, though the truth was far otherwise. But Vasiṣṭha did sing hymns of such power that Indra himself did come forth to aid his chosen one.

The battle raged like a terrible storm. The warriors did fall like leaves before the wind. The earth did drink deeply of blood. But Sudās and his allies did prevail, for Vasiṣṭha's hymns had called down the wrath of Indra upon their enemies.

When the battle was done, Vasiṣṭha stood among the victors. His hair was white as snow, for he had seen much and understood many things. The kings did bow before him, asking his counsel. The priests did seek his wisdom.

For he was not merely a warrior-sage; he was also a keeper of the sacred traditions. He knew the proper forms of sacrifice. He understood the secret names of the gods. When he spoke, the very heavens did listen.

Seven daughters did Vasiṣṭha have—each one born of his own meditation and power, without the need of a mortal wife. These were his Mātṛkas, his mother-goddesses. Through them, the wisdom of Vasiṣṭha did spread throughout the world.

Vasiṣṭha dwelt in the hermitage by the river Sutlej. There he did sit, day after day, contemplating the mysteries of existence. Men and gods alike did come to seek his counsel. Kings bowed before his wisdom; priests sought his blessing.

Yet he was not proud. Though he was born of the gods and had defeated great demons, he remained humble. He honored the sacrifices made by ordinary men. He blessed the children of the poor. He showed that wisdom and power could walk hand in hand with compassion.

When Vasiṣṭha spoke, his words carried the weight of truth. He could not lie, for he was incapable of falsehood. When he cursed an enemy, that enemy was surely destroyed. When he blessed a friend, blessings fell upon him like rain from the sky.

We, the descendants of Vasiṣṭha, are heirs to his power and his wisdom. The knowledge that he gained through meditation and sacrifice hath been passed down to us. In us flows the blood of the gods. In us lives the spirit of the great sage.

O Vasiṣṭha, ancestor of our line! Hear the praise of thy children! Look down from the high heavens where thou dost dwell! Grant unto us a portion of thy wisdom! Share with us the power that made thee mighty!

We shall honor thy memory. We shall follow thy teachings. We shall practice the sacred rites that thou didst teach. And when our time comes to pass from this world to the next, may we find favor in thy sight, may we be recognized as true children of thy line.

The world doth change, and kingdoms do rise and fall. But the wisdom of Vasiṣṭha endureth forever. Let all people know of his greatness! Let his story be sung throughout the ages! And let those who follow the teachings of Vasiṣṭha be blessed and protected forever!