With longing and admiration, Rāvaṇa gazed upon Sītā and spoke of her beauty, describing it in wondrous detail. “Your teeth are even, smooth, and white as mountain snow,” he said, “and your eyes are large and clear, their corners tinged with red, their pupils dark and deep. Your hips are broad, your thighs full and rounded, firm as the trunks of young elephants, perfectly shaped and set close together. Your breasts are full, high, and lovely, like smooth palm-fruits adorned with gems and pearls, a sight of great beauty. “O beloved of Rāma, your smile is charming, your teeth lovely, your eyes enchanting. Playful one, you steal my mind as the riverbank is stolen away by the rushing water. With a waist that fits within the grasp of a hand, beautiful hair, and closely-set breasts, you are neither goddess, nor celestial being, nor yakṣī, nor kinnarī. Never before on earth have I beheld a woman of such form; your beauty, delicacy, and youth are supreme in all the worlds. “Your dwelling in this lonely forest stirs my heart. Good lady, you should not remain here. This is the abode of fierce and shape-shifting Rākṣasas, yet there are splendid palaces and city gardens, rich and fragrant, fit for your enjoyment. You, beautiful one, deserve the finest garlands, perfumes, and garments. Dark-eyed one, you are worthy of a noble husband. Who are you, with your pure smile? Are you among the wives of the Rudras or the Maruts? O lovely-hipped, you appear to me as a goddess among the Vasus, for Gandharvas, gods, and Kinnaras do not come to this place. “This is the dwelling of Rākṣasas—how have you come here? Here are tree-dwelling deer, lions, island-tigers, and wolves. There are bears, hyenas, and cranes—how do you not fear them? And the fierce, intoxicated, swift elephants? How do you, alone in this great forest, O beautiful-faced one, not feel fear? Who are you, whose daughter, from where, and for what reason have you come to Daṇḍaka? O lovely one, you wander alone through places haunted by fierce Rākṣasas.” Thus, the great-souled Rāvaṇa praised Vaidehī, Sītā. Seeing Rāvaṇa approach in the guise of a twice-born ascetic, Maithilī honored him with all the courtesies due to a guest. She brought him a seat, offered water for washing his feet, and said, “All is ready,” to the gentle-looking guest. Observing his attire and his vessel and kusumbha, Sītā could not refuse him, and welcomed him as one would a brāhmaṇa. “Here is a seat, brāhmaṇa,” she said. “Please be seated; accept this water for your feet. This excellent forest fare, prepared for you, may you partake of it here without concern.” Rāvaṇa, seeing the queen Maithilī speak so fully and invitingly, resolved firmly in his mind to seize her by force and dedicate himself to her destruction. As Sītā waited for her husband, splendidly dressed and returned from the hunt with Lakṣmaṇa, she looked around at the vast green forest, but saw neither Rāma nor Lakṣmaṇa. Let the forty-seventh chapter now be heard in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa. Then, Vaidehī was questioned by Rāvaṇa, who wished to abduct her, all the while disguised as a wandering ascetic. Sītā thought, “If this brāhmaṇa guest is not properly received, he may curse me.” After a moment’s reflection, she spoke these words: “I am the daughter of Janaka, the great king of Mithilā; my name is Sītā. Blessings to you. I am the beloved queen of Rāma. I lived for twelve years in the palace of the Ikṣvākus, enjoying human pleasures, fulfilled in all desires. In the thirteenth year, the king, together with his ministers, resolved to consecrate Rāma as ruler. “As preparations were made for Rāghava’s consecration, my noble mother-in-law, named Kaikeyī, requested a boon from her husband. Kaikeyī, having won my father-in-law’s favor, secured my husband’s exile and Bharata’s consecration. She asked the king, steadfast in truth and foremost among men, for two boons: ‘I will neither eat, nor sleep, nor drink, ever. This is the end of my life if Rāma is consecrated,’ so spoke Kaikeyī to my father-in-law, the king. She did not ask for wealth or other benefits, nor did she make any further requests; my husband, of great splendor, was twenty-five years old. “Eighteen years have passed since my birth; in the world, my husband is known as Rāma—truthful, virtuous, and pure. Wide-eyed, strong-armed, devoted to the welfare of all beings, my father is King Daśaratha himself, a man driven by desire. For the sake of fulfilling Kaikeyī’s cherished wish, my father did not anoint Rāma, though he had come before him for the consecration. “Kaikeyī quickly spoke these words to my husband: ‘Hear this, Rāghava, as commanded by your father on my behalf. This untroubled kingdom must be given to Bharata, and you must indeed dwell in the forest for nine and five years. Go to the forest, O descendant of Kakutstha, and free your father from falsehood.’ Rāma, undaunted, replied to Kaikeyī, ‘So be it.’ “Hearing those words, my steadfast husband did as he was told; he would give but not accept, speak truth and never falsehood. O Brāhmaṇa, this is the supreme vow firmly held by Rāma; his brother, born of another mother, is named Lakṣmaṇa, mighty in valor.” Thus, Sītā spoke, revealing her lineage, her husband’s virtues, and the circumstances that brought her to the forest.