Upon hearing these words, she clasped Sita’s feet and comforted her by recounting the majesty and might and great glory of her lord. ‘Listen, O young princess,’ she said, ‘no fire can be had at night.’ So saying, she went away home.

'Heaven itself has turned hostile to me!’ cried Sita. There is no fire to be had an no end to my torture! Sparks of fire are visibly seen in the heavens, but not one single star drops to the earth!

The moon, though all ablaze, casts no fire down, as if it knew what a luckless wretch I am. Hear my prayer, O ashoka tree; take away my sorrow and be true to your name.

Your fresh young leaves are red like flames. Give me that fire to consume my body.’ A single moment seemed like an aeon to Hanuman as he beheld Sita thus piteously lamenting the loss of her lord.
Then Hanuman pondered awhile and dropped down the signet ring, as though the ashoka tree had thrown a spark (in response to her prayer). Joyfully she arose and took it in her hand.

Then Hanuman pondered awhile and dropped down the signet ring, as though the ashoka tree had thrown a spark (in response to her prayer). Joyfully she arose and took it in her hand.

Now she looked at the lovely ring with the name of Rama most beautifully engraved on it. Recognizing the ring, she looked at it in amazement and was agitated at heart wit mingled joy and sorrow.

'Who could conquer the invincible Raghunatha? Yet no magic could have fashioned such a (divine) ring.’ While many such fancies were passing through Sita’s mind. Hanuman spoke in honeyed accents.