At the assembly hall King Janaka noticed Rama and Lakshmana, and asked Viswamithra, "Who are those attractive-looking young men?" Viswamithra explained.When he heard of Rama's lineage and prowess, Janaka said with a sigh, "How I wish it were possible for me to propose my daughter for him." Viswamithra understood the cause of his despair. A seemingly insurmountable condition existed in any proposal concerning Sita's marriage.
King Janaka had in his possession an enormous bow which at one time belonged to Shiva, who had abandoned it and left it in the custody of an early ancestor of Janaka's, and it had remained an heirloom. Sita, as a baby girl, was a gift of Mother Earth to Janaka, being found in a furrow when a field was ploughed. Janaka adopted the child, tended her,and she grew up into a beauty, so much so that several princes who considered themselves eligible thronged Janaka's palace and contended for Sita's hand. Unable to favor anyone in particular, and in order to ward them off, King Janaka made it a condition that whoever could lift,bend, and string Shiva's bow would be considered fit to become Sita's husband. When her suitors took a look at the bow, they realized that it was a hopeless and unacceptable condition. They left in a rage, and later returned with their armies, prepared to win Sita by force. But Janaka resisted their aggression, and ultimately the suitors withdrew. As time passed Janaka became anxious whether he would ever see his daughter married and settled—since the condition once made could not be withdrawn. No one on earth seemed worthy of approaching Shiva's bow. Janaka sighed. "I tremble when I think of Sita's future, and question my own judgement in linking her fate with this mighty, divine heirloom in our house."
"Do not despair," said Viswamithra soothingly. "How do you know it was not a divine inspiration that gave you the thought?"
"In all the worlds, is there anyone who can tackle this bow,the very sight of which in Shiva's hand made erring gods and god lings tremble and collapse—until Shiva put it away and renounced its use?"
"With your permission, may we see it?"
Janaka said, "I'll have it brought here. It has lain in its shed too long… . Who knows, moving it out may change all our fates." He called on his attendants to fetch the bow… . The attendants hesitated and he ordered, "Let the army be engaged for the task if necessary. After all, this spot is sanctified by the sacred rites recently performed … and the bow is fit to be brought in here." The bow was placed in a carriage on eight pairs of wheels and arrived drawn by a vast number of men. During its passage from its shed through the streets, a crowd followed passage from its shed through the streets, a crowd followed it. It was so huge that no one could comprehend it at one glance. "Is this a bow or that mountain called Meru, which churned the Ocean of Milk in ancient times?" people marveled. "What target is there to receive the arrow shot out of this bow, even if someone lifts and strings it?" wondered some. "If Janaka meant seriously to find a son-in-law, he should have waived this condition. How unwise of him!" Rama looked at his master. Viswamithra nodded as if to say, "Try it." As Rama approached the bow with slow dignity, the onlookers held their breath and watched. Some prayed silently for him. Some commented, "How cruel! This supposed sage is not ashamed to put the delicate, marvelous youth to this harsh trial!" "The King is perverse and cruel to place this godlike youth in this predicament… . If he was serious about it, he should have just placed Sita's hand in his instead of demanding this acrobatic feat… ."
"The King's aim is to keep Sita with him for ever—this is one way of never facing separation!" "If this man fails, we will all jump into fire," commented some young women who were love-stricken at the sight of Rama. "If he fails, Sita is sure to immolate herself and we will all follow her example."
While they were speculating thus, Rama approached the bow. Some of the onlookers, unable to bear the suspense, closed their eyes and prayed for his success, saying, "If he fails to bring the ends of this bow together, what is to happen to the maiden?" What they missed, because they had shut their eyes, was to note how swiftly Rama picked up the bow,
tugged the string taut, and brought the tips together. They were startled when they heard a deafening report, caused by the cracking of the bow at its arch, which could not stand the
pressure of Rama's grip.
The atmosphere was suddenly relaxed. The gods showered down flowers and blessings, clouds parted and precipitated rains, the oceans tossed up in the air all the rare treasures from their depths. The sages cried, "Janaka's tribulations and trials are ended." Music filled the air. The
citizens garlanded, embraced, and anointed each other with perfumes and sprinkled sandalwood powder in the air.
People donned their best clothes, gathered at the palace gates and public squares, and danced and sang without any restraint; flutes and pipes and drums created a din over the
loud chants and songs from many throats. Gods and goddesses watching the happy scenes below assumed human form, mixed with the crowds, and shared their joy.
"The beauty of our royal bridegroom can never be fully grasped unless one is blessed with a thousand eyes," commented the women. "See his brother! How very
handsome! Blessed parents to have begotten such sons!" Sita had secluded herself and was unaware of the latest development. She moved from bed to bed for lack of
comfort, and lay beside a fountain on a slab of moonstone—the coolest bed they could find her. Even there she had no peace since the lotus blooms in the pool of the fountain
teased her mind by reminding her of the shape of his eyes or his complexion. She grumbled, "No peace anywhere … I am deserted. My mind tortures me with reminders. What use
are they if I can't even know where to look for him? What sort of a man can he be to cause all this torment and just pass on doing nothing to alleviate it? A regal appearance, but
actually practicing sorcery!"
Her tortuous reflections were interrupted by the arrival of a maid. Instead of bowing and saluting her mistress, as was normal, she pirouetted around singing snatches of a love
song. Sita sat up and commanded, "Be quiet! Are you intoxicated?" The maid answered, "The whole country is intoxicated. How would you know, my good mistress, if you
lock yourself in and mope and moan?" She went on to explain in a rush of incoherence. "The king of Ayodhya … son, broad-shouldered and a god on earth. No one saw it
happen, he was so quick and swift, but he pressed, so they say, one end with his feet, and seized the other end with his hand, and drew the string and oh! …"
"Oh, intoxicated beauty, what are you saying?" When Sita understood what had happened, she stood up, her breasts heaving. She held herself erect as she said, "Do you know if
this is the same man who struck me down with a look as he passed along the street? If it is someone else, I will end my life."