Anasuya, the revered ascetic lady, took a divine ointment and gently anointed Sita, the daughter of Janaka. With warmth, she spoke: “O Janaka’s daughter, adorned with this celestial ointment, you will shine beside your husband as Lakshmi shines beside the imperishable Vishnu.” Sita, Maithili, accepted the garments, ointment, ornaments, and garlands—an unsurpassed gift of affection from Anasuya. Having received these tokens of love, the illustrious Sita stood with joined palms, reverently attending upon the ascetic lady. As Sita sat thus in respectful attendance, Anasuya, steadfast in her vows, began to speak, choosing a gentle and pleasing topic. “O Sita,” she said, “I have heard the tale that you were won by the illustrious Raghava in a svayamvara. Maithili, I wish to hear that story in detail; please recount it fully, just as you experienced it.” Thus addressed, Sita replied, “Listen,” and began to tell her story. “The valiant ruler of Mithila, my father Janaka, was devoted to righteousness and governed his land according to the warrior’s code and justice. One day, as he was ploughing a field with his own hands, it is said that I, his 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. At that moment, 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, was overjoyed and, having gained me, attained great prosperity. I was given to that noble elder goddess, who performs 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, Varuṇa, 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 the 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 Rāghava, accompanied by the sage Viśvāmitra, came to witness the sacrifice, together with his brother Lakṣmaṇa, steadfast in truth and valor. There, Viśvāmitra, righteous and honored by my father, spoke to him about 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 by the sage, my father brought forth the bow; in the blink of an eye, the valiant Rāma bent it. Quickly, with strength, he strung the bow. As he drew it with force, the bow broke in the middle into two; its sound was terrifying, like thunder falling from the sky. Then, my father, true to his word, resolved to give me to Rāma, and raised the excellent vessel of water. But at that time, Rāghava did not accept what was being given, not knowing the wishes of his father, the lord of Ayodhyā. Then, after addressing my aged father-in-law, King Daśaratha, my own father gave me to Rāma, who knows his own self. And my virtuous younger sister, the lovely Urmilā, was also given by my father himself as wife for Lakṣmaṇa. Thus I was given to Rāma at that self-choice ceremony, and I am devoted in righteousness to my husband, the best among the strong.” Thus ends the one hundred eighteenth sarga of the glorious Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa in the ancient and noble Rāmāyaṇa composed by Vālmīki. Anasuya, who knows righteousness, after hearing that great story, embraced Maithili with her arms and kissed her on the head. “The words you spoke were clear, well-formed, and sweet; I have heard all about how the self-choice ceremony took place from you, O sweet speaker, and I am truly delighted by your story.” The glorious sun had set, and the auspicious night had come; at dusk, the sounds of birds, who spent the day searching for food, settling to sleep, were heard. Nearby, ascetics, still wet from their ablutions and holding water jars, gathered together, their garments soaked from bathing.