It was the start of the sowing season. The fences separated the farm from the jungle. Outside the blackbuck roamed free; within the farmer would decide what was crop and what was weed.
The farmers invited their king Janaka to be the first to plough the land with a golden hoe. To the sound of bells and drums and conch-shell trumpets, the king shoved the hoe into the ground and began to till the land.Soft moist earth dark as the night sky, was pushed away on the either side to reveal a furrow. As the furrow extended itself, firmly and fast, the king felt confident and the farmers were pleased.
Suddenly the king stopped. The furrow revealed a golden hand: tiny fingers rising up like grass, as if drawn by the sunshine. Janaka moved the dirt away, and found hidden within the soft, moist earth a baby, a girl, healthy and radiant, smiling joyfully, as if waiting to be found.
Was it an abandoned child? No, said the farmers, convinced it was a gift from the earth-goddess to their childless king. But this was not fruit of his seed-how could she be his daughter? Fatherhood, said Janaka, springs in the heart, not from a seed.
Janaka picked up the infant, who gurgled happily in his arms. Placing her close to his heart, he declared, 'This is Bhumija, daughter of the earth. You may call her Maithili, princess of Mithila,or Vaidehi, the lady from Videha, or Janaki, she who chose Janaka. I will call her Sita, she who was found in a furrow, she who chose me to be her father.'
Everyone felt gladness in their hearts. The ceremony was truly successful. The childless king has returned to the palace a father. No harvest could be better...
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From: Sita: An illustrated retelling of the Ramayana by Devdutt Pattanaik
"Because Stories are All We Have" - Raconteur
