Sita’s clever companions escorted her to the arena, singing songs in charming tones. A beautiful sari adorned her youthful frame; Mother of the world was she, incomparable in her exquisite beauty.

Ornaments of all kinds had been beautifully set in their appropriate places, her every limb having been adorned by her companions with meticulous care. When Sita stepped into the arena, all beholders, men and women alike, were fascinated by her charms.

The gods in their delight sounded their kettledrums and the celestial damsels sang songs and rained down flowers. In her lotus hands sparkled the wreath of victory, as she cast a hurried glance at the assembled kings.

While Sita looked for Rama with anxious heart, all the kings found themselves in the grip of infatuation. Presently Sita discovered the two brothers by the side of the sage, and on them her eyes were greedily fixed as on a long-lost treasure.

Out of natural bashfulness that she felt in the presence of the gurus and embarrassed at the sight of so large an assembly, Sita shrank into herself. Drawing Rama into her heart, she turned her eyes towards her companions.

Not a man or woman, who beheld the beauty of Rama and the loveliness of Sita, could close his eyelids for a second. They all were anxious in their hearts but hesitated to speak; they inwardly made supplication of Brahma:

‘Speedily, O God, rid Janaka of his stupidity and give him right understanding, as we have, so that the king without the least scruple may abandon his vow and give Sita in marriage to Rama.