सीतायाः शपथः रसातलप्रवेशश्च

So addressed by Vālmīki, Rāghava looked at that lovely lady standing in the midst of the world and, with joined palms, replied: "It is just as you say, blessed knower of dharma; your spotless words, brahmin, give me full conviction. Proof was given by Vaidehī once before, in Laṅkā, in the presence of the gods; she swore an oath there, and so I brought her into my house. But the censure of the people is powerful, and it was because of it that Maithilī was abandoned. It was out of fear of the people, brahmin, that I abandoned this Sītā, though I knew she was sinless; please forgive me. And I know these twins, Kuśa and Lava, to be my sons. Let my love be given again to Maithilī, now proved pure before the world." Rāma himself confesses that he abandoned Sītā though he knew her to be blameless, and that confession is deeply moving. He asks forgiveness, not of Sītā but of the sage, and both his humility and his pain show in it. "Proof was given once before" recalls the ordeal by fire in the Yuddha Kāṇḍa, where Sītā's purity was established before the gods. "In the midst of the world" comes twice: Rāma wants proof before all the world, not in private. For the first time the acknowledgement of his sons comes from Rāma's own lips: "I know these two are my sons." His words show the conflict between a king's dharma and a husband's: the king cannot ignore the opinion of the people, while the husband knows his wife is blameless. His hope lies in the words "let my love be given again": that Sītā might come home. His respect for the sage shows too.

Understanding Rāma's purpose, the best of the gods, Mahendra and the other mighty ones, all came for Sītā's oath with the Grandsire Brahmā at their head: the Ādityas, Vasus, Rudras, Viśvedevas and the hosts of Maruts, all the Sādhya gods and all the supreme seers, the Nāgas, the Suparṇas and the Siddhas, all of them joyful at heart and stirred by Sītā's oath. Seeing the gods and the seers, Rāghava spoke again: "Best of the gods, the seer's spotless words have convinced me. Let my love be given again to Vaidehī, proved pure before the world." Then a gentle, holy breeze, divinely fragrant and delightful, refreshed that whole crowd on every side as though it were the best of the gods, and the people from every kingdom, rapt, gazed on that wonder beyond imagining, as in the Kṛta age of old. The coming of the gods deepens the gravity of the oath, for now not men alone but the three worlds are witnesses. "Stirred by Sītā's oath" suggests that even the gods were anxious, knowing that something great was about to happen. The divine breeze is an auspicious sign, and "as in the Kṛta age" recalls how in that age gods and men were seen together, as they are today. Seeing the gods, Rāma repeats his words so that the gods too may bear witness. The breeze is honoured like a god, and all the people stand hushed, waiting to hear Sītā speak.

Seeing them all assembled, Sītā, dressed in ochre, spoke with joined palms, her eyes lowered and her face downcast: "As I have never thought even in my mind of anyone but Rāghava, so may the goddess Mādhavī, the Earth, open for me. As in thought, deed and word I worship Rāma alone, so may the goddess Mādhavī open for me. As it is true, what I have said, that I know no one beyond Rāma, so may the goddess Mādhavī open for me." Sītā's oath is threefold, of the mind, of deed, word and body, and of truth, and each ends with the same prayer. She does not pray "let this be proof" but "let the earth open": she does not ask to return to Rāma's house but to the lap of her mother the Earth. Sītā was born of the earth, drawn up from the soil by Janaka as he ploughed, and so the goddess Mādhavī is as a mother to her. The ochre dress marks her as an ascetic. Her lowered eyes mean she looks at no one's face, not even Rāma's. Saying the oath three times shows its firmness. Sītā blames neither Rāma nor the people; she only declares her own faithfulness, and her silence and her oath alike bear witness to her self-respect.

As Vaidehī swore her oath, a wonder appeared: a divine, matchless throne rose from the ground, borne on the heads of nāgas of boundless strength, divine in form and adorned with divine jewels. On it the goddess Earth took Maithilī in her arms, welcomed her, and seated her on the throne. As she sat there and entered Rasātala, an unbroken shower of heavenly flowers covered Sītā. A great cry of approval rose at once from the gods: "Well done, well done, Sītā, whose conduct is such as this!" So the gods in the sky, rejoicing, spoke in many such words as they watched Sītā enter the earth. All the sages at the sacrificial ground and the kings, tigers among men, could not stop marvelling. In the sky and on the earth all beings moving and unmoving, the huge-bodied Dānavas and the lords of the serpents in Pātāla, some shouted in delight, some were lost in thought, some gazed at Rāma, and some, stunned, at Sītā. Seeing Sītā enter the earth they were all as one, and for a moment the whole world was utterly bewildered. Sītā's end here is the very summit of pathos: she is proved pure, yet she does not return to Rāma. Mother Earth receives her daughter with a welcome, as long ago, before her marriage, Janaka had drawn her up from the earth. The world responds in many ways, with joy, reflection, wonder and bewilderment; the poet does not describe Rāma's feelings directly, and his grief is told in the next sarga. The gods' words, "whose conduct is such as this", are the last testimony to Sītā's character, and the throne borne by nāgas shows the honour paid her by the lords of the underworld. So Sītā's story ends in the Uttara Kāṇḍa, and her purity is made known through the three worlds.