Anasūyā, the venerable ascetic lady, spoke warmly to Sītā, praising the virtues of devoted wives. She recalled how Sāvitrī, by her unwavering service to her husband, was honored in heaven, and assured Sītā that she too had attained such heavenly merit through her own steadfast conduct. In the celestial realms, Sāvitrī was foremost among women, a goddess revered by all, just as Rohiṇī is never seen apart from the Moon, her beloved. Such is the way of the best women—those who are firm in their vows to their husbands are honored among the gods, their own merit shining forth. Delighted by Sītā’s gentle words, Anasūyā embraced her with affection and spoke to her with joy. “Through many disciplines I have gained great ascetic power, O Sītā with the pure smile. Relying on that strength, I wish to bless you. Your words are fitting and pleasing, Maithilī. Tell me, what worthy thing can I do for you?” Hearing these words, Sītā, herself radiant with ascetic grace, was gently astonished and replied, “It is done.” Anasūyā, pleased by her humility, said with even greater warmth, “O Sītā, I shall fulfill your joyful wish. Here are divine garlands, garments, ornaments, fragrant ointment, and precious unguent. These gifts I bestow upon you will adorn your limbs; they are pure, fitting, and will remain so always. Anointed with this divine ointment, O daughter of Janaka, you will shine before your husband as Lakṣmī does beside the eternal Viṣṇu.” Sītā received the garments, ointments, ornaments, and garlands—an unsurpassed gift of affection. She stood with joined palms, reverently attending upon Anasūyā, her heart full of gratitude. As Sītā sat thus, Anasūyā, firm in her vows, began to speak again, her voice gentle and curious. “O Sītā, I have heard that you were won by the illustrious Rāghava in a svayamvara. Maithilī, I wish to hear that story in detail; please recount it to me fully, just as you experienced it.” Thus addressed, Sītā replied, “Listen, noble lady, and I shall tell you my story. The valiant ruler of Mithilā, my father Janaka, was devoted to righteousness and governed his land with justice. One day, as he was ploughing a field with his own hands, it is said that I, the king’s daughter, arose, breaking through the earth. Covered in dust and intent on scattering clods, I appeared before him, and King Janaka was astonished at the sight. Though he was childless, out of affection he lifted me onto his lap, saying, ‘This is my daughter,’ and poured his love upon me. Then, a voice was heard from the sky—not human, but divine—declaring, ‘So it is, O king; by righteousness, she is your daughter.’ My father, the righteous ruler of Mithilā, was overjoyed and, having gained me, attained great prosperity. I was entrusted to the care of a noble elder goddess, who honored me with affection and maternal friendship. As I grew to the age suitable for marriage, my father became anxious, troubled by loss of wealth and other hardships. 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 dishonor approaching, the king was overwhelmed by anxiety, unable to find a way out, like a swimmer lost in deep water. Knowing that I was not born of a woman, my father considered deeply but could not find a suitable and fitting husband for me among the kings. Constantly pondering, the wise king resolved, ‘I will arrange a self-choice ceremony for my daughter.’ At his great sacrifice, Varuṇa, the mighty one, gladly gave him a splendid bow and inexhaustible quivers. That bow was so heavy that it could not be moved by men, even with great effort. The assembled kings could not bend it, not even in their dreams. Having received that bow, my father, ever truthful, declared before the gathered kings, ‘Whoever, raising this bow, strings it, shall have my daughter as his wife—there is no doubt.’ The kings, seeing that excellent bow, massive as a mountain, paid their respects and departed, unable to lift it. After a long time, this radiant Rāghava, accompanied by Viśvāmitra and his steadfast brother Lakṣmaṇa, came to witness the sacrifice. There, Viśvāmitra, honored by my father, spoke to him of the brothers Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. ‘These two sons of Daśaratha desire to see the bow; show the divine bow to Rāma, the prince.’ Thus addressed, my father brought forth the bow. In the blink of an eye, the valiant Rāma bent it, and with strength, he strung the bow. As he drew it with force, the bow broke in the middle into two, and its sound was terrifying, like thunder falling from the sky.