Sita spoke with gentle conviction, her words reflecting the renewal and clarity brought by Anasuya’s guidance. “O righteous lady,” she said, “your teachings have refreshed my heart. For a woman, there is no greater austerity than devoted service to her husband.” She recalled the example of Savitri, whose unwavering dedication to her husband earned her honor in heaven; and Anasuya herself, by such conduct, had attained divine realms. Among women, Savitri stands foremost—a goddess in heaven—and Rohini, ever faithful, is never seen apart from the Moon, not even for a moment. In this way, the noblest women, steadfast in their vows, are celebrated in the world of the gods for the merit of their own deeds. Hearing Sita’s words, Anasuya was delighted. She embraced Sita’s head, her heart gladdened, and addressed Maithili with affection. “Through various disciplines, O Sita of pure smile, I have attained great ascetic power. Relying on that strength, I wish to bless you. Your words are both appropriate and pleasing, Maithili. I am delighted—tell me, what fitting thing shall I do for you?” Sita, endowed with ascetic power herself, was gently astonished by Anasuya’s offer. She replied simply, “It is done.” Anasuya, even more pleased, promised, “O Sita, I shall fulfill your joyful wish.” She presented divine gifts—garlands, garments, ornaments, fragrant ointments, and precious unguents. “O Vaidehi,” she said, “these gifts will adorn your limbs. They are fitting, unblemished, and will remain so always. Anointed with this divine ointment, O daughter of Janaka, you will shine upon your husband as Lakshmi does upon the imperishable Vishnu.” Sita reverently accepted the garments, ointments, ornaments, and garlands—an unsurpassed gift of affection. Having received them, illustrious Sita stood with joined palms, attending upon the ascetic lady with devotion. As Sita sat thus in attendance, Anasuya, steadfast in her vows, began to speak on a pleasing topic. “O Sita, I have heard the story that you were won by this illustrious Raghava in a svayamvara. Maithili, I wish to hear that story in detail; please recount it to me fully, just as you experienced it.” Thus addressed, Sita began to narrate her tale to the righteous lady. “Listen,” she said. “The valiant ruler of Mithila, named Janaka, was devoted to righteousness and governed the land according to the warrior’s code and justice. As he was ploughing a field with his own hands, it is said that I, the king’s daughter, arose, breaking through the earth. Seeing me, covered in dust and intent on scattering clods, King Janaka was astonished. Though childless, out of affection he lifted me onto his lap, saying, ‘This is my daughter,’ and poured his love upon me. A voice was heard in the sky, not human, declaring, ‘So it is, O king; by righteousness, she is your daughter.’ My father, the righteous ruler of Mithila, was overjoyed and, having gained me, attained great prosperity. I was given to that noble elder goddess, who performed virtuous deeds; by her affection and maternal friendship, I was honored and cherished. When my age was ripe for union with a husband, my father, troubled by loss of wealth and other hardships, fell into anxiety. In this world, the father of a maiden, whether she is equal or inferior, suffers dishonor—even if he is as mighty as Indra—if she is not properly married. Seeing that dishonor approaching, the king, overwhelmed by anxiety, could not find a way out, like a swimmer unable to reach the shore. Knowing that I was not born from a woman, the king, after much consideration, did not find a suitable and fitting husband for me among the rulers. Constantly pondering, the wise king formed this resolve: ‘I will arrange a self-choice ceremony for my daughter.’ At his great sacrifice, Varuna, the mighty one, gladly gave him a splendid bow and inexhaustible quivers. That bow, due to its weight, could not be moved by men even with effort; the kings were unable to bend it, not even in their dreams. Having received that bow, my father, who always spoke the truth, declared before the assembled kings: ‘Whoever, raising this bow, strings it, shall have my daughter as his wife—there is no doubt.’ Seeing that excellent bow, massive as a mountain, the kings, after paying their respects, departed, unable to lift it. After a very long time, this radiant Raghava, accompanied by Vishvamitra, came to witness the sacrifice, together with his brother Lakshmana, steadfast in truth and valor. There, Vishvamitra, righteous and honored by my father, spoke to him about the brothers Rama and Lakshmana: ‘These two sons of Dasharatha desire to see the bow; show the divine bow to Rama, the prince.’ Thus addressed by that sage, my father brought forth the bow. In the blink of an eye, the valiant one bent it. Quickly, with strength, he strung the bow.