The Ramayana

by Linda Egenes, M. A.

  As Sītā fell silent, Hanumān saw her thoughts and sought to console her. He again began to sing praises of Rāma in his melodious voice. “Rāma shines with the light of the moon and the sun together. Ever speaking the truth, ever sweet-natured, pleasing to look upon, brilliant in mind and heart, Rāma is the protector of all. The destroyer of evil on earth, he will soon destroy Rāvana. To find you, he has joined forces with the king of the monkeys, Sugrīva, who also sends his greetings through me.

  “I am Hanumān, the Son of the Wind. I have leapt across the wide ocean in a single bound for your sake. Do not doubt me. Trust your heart and have confidence in me.”

  Hearing these nourishing words from Hanumān, Sītā raised her head. She desperately wanted to believe him, but asked more questions for proof. “How did you meet Rāma? Tell me again of his unrivaled qualities—hearing you praise him dispels my grief as the sun dispels the clouds. How is Rāma, and how is Lakshmana? Tell me everything.”

  Hanumān again began extolling Rāma, never tiring to speak of his nobility, charm, and beauty. Hanumān described Rāma’s auspicious marks. “His thumb is marked with four lines, showing his mastery of the Vedas; four lines mark his forehead, the sign of a long life; his arms and thighs are strong; his cheeks, lips, and jaws are full; his nose long; his nails, eyelids, and palms pink; his arms, fingers, and legs slender.”

  Hanumān told Sītā that he was one of the monkeys who had been sitting on the hillside when she dropped her jewels. He told how he met Rāma and Lakshmana, how Rāma killed Bāli, how Rāma sent the monkeys to the four quarters to find her.

  At last Sītā said, “You are certainly a real monkey, and a true friend to Rāma—how could I think otherwise? As the dry earth is gladdened by the rain, so am I gladdened to see you.” Sītā’s long lashes shuddered with tears of joy, for finally she knew that she could trust the faithful Hanumān.

  Seeing that her heart was settled, Hanumān pulled out a ring, which looked large in his small monkey hand. He held it out on his palm for Sītā to see. “Take this ring, given to me by Rāma, to erase your doubts. See, that illustrious hero’s name is engraved on it. Now is the time to take heart. Rāma will soon end your sorrow.”

  Sītā took the ring that had been worn by her lord and, gazing on it, nearly swooned with joy. Her eyes shone with the light of the stars, as if Rāma himself were in her presence. As she looked at Hanumān, whom she now knew to be her most trusted friend, she could not contain her happiness.

  “You are no ordinary monkey, but are stronger than the strong, for you crossed the ocean as if it were only a puddle. You are valorous, for you are not afraid of Rāvana. You are worthy, for Rāma has trusted you to find me. Answer me this, then. Why doesn’t Rāma burn up the earth with his arrows of fire? Has my absence caused him to forget about me? Or is he torn with anxiety on my account? In my heart I know that the love he bears for me is greater than that for his mother, his father, and even his brother. I live only to be reunited with him.”

  After expressing these conflicting emotions, Sītā again was silent. Hanumān humbly joined his hands together in respect and replied, “Rāma does not know where you are. That is the only reason he has not yet rescued you. There is nothing that will stop him from saving you now. Like you, he no longer sleeps, and he thinks of nothing but you. Lost in thoughts of you, when he sees a flower or fruit or any tender object, he cries, ‘O Sītā!’ He has poured his entire being into his search for you.”

  Sītā’s heart spilled over with joy to be reassured of Rāma’s devotion, yet she was pained to hear of his suffering. “Your words are like nectar tinged with poison,” she said. “Surely no person, no matter how fortunate or powerful, can escape his destiny. How else could Rāma, Lakshmana, and I be trapped in this abyss of grief? Rāvana has been warned by his virtuous brother Vibhīshana to return me to Rāma, but instead he continues to seek his death as an arrow seeks its mark. This was told to me by Vibhīshana’s eldest daughter, Kalā. Avindhya, Rāvana’s trusted minister, also has foretold the destruction of Lankā at Rāma’s bow. I anxiously await the day when Rāma destroys this dark ocean of ferocious rākshasas. I feel hopeful, for my heart is pure, and Rāma, the knower of the Self, has infinite strength, courage, power, and compassion. But it must be soon, for the wretched Rāvana has given me only two more months to live.” At this, Sītā began to weep again.

  “My lady, you must not suffer another minute,” cried Hanumān. “This very day, I will carry you on my back across the sea. You will be in Rāma’s arms tonight!”

  Sītā was surprised that this tiny creature, though obviously no ordinary monkey, thought he could carry her on his back. Filled with wonder at his valor, and wishing not to offend him, she hesitantly asked, “Dear Hanumān, how could you carry me, when I am much bigger than you?”

  Hanumān felt crushed. “Sītā has no idea of my power. I must show her,” he thought. Swelling like a seed in the rain, Hanumān grew until he was enormous, his teeth flashing like diamonds, his body radiant as the sun.

  “I can smash this city into the sea, uproot its trees, and destroy Rāvana himself. Delay not another moment, pure-hearted lady. Let me take you to Rāma and end his suffering today.” Then he shrank back to a small size, so as not to draw the attention of the sleeping demons that guarded Sītā.

  Sītā smiled radiantly. “O brave Hanumān, now I know your true stature and strength. I know now that you are capable of carrying me away. But first I must consider if it is in my own and Rāma’s best interests. What if I became dizzy, clinging to your back as you flew the skies faster than the wind, and fell into the watery deep? And surely if you took me away, Rāvana would send his armies to fight you. Unarmed, how would you prevent those demons from tearing me to pieces? Or they might hide me away in some secret place where Rāma could never find me. Rāma and Lakshmana’s lives depend on me. If something happened to me, they would give up their last breaths.

  “But even more, I do not wish to touch another save Rāma. When Rāvana dragged me through the skies, it was against my will. It will bring Rāma honor and glory to rescue me. Dear Hanumān, you will help most, and make me happy once again, by bringing Rāma to me.”

  “Who could think with such nobility and purity of heart!” exclaimed Hanumān. “You have honored all women with your modesty. Please forgive me, it was only my affection and devotion to Rāma that made me propose such a foolhardy plan. Now I will return to Rāma and tell him all that has happened. Will you give me a token to make him certain that I have seen you?”

  Sītā sobbed as she unwrapped a pearl that was knotted in a corner of her sārī. “I once wore this on my forehead, but I have hidden it away. It has given me strength to endure all these misfortunes.”

  Hanumān took the lustrous pearl in his hand. He suddenly felt as though he had entered the calm eye of the hurricane, and his last fears were dissipated. “What do you wish me to tell Rāma when I see him?” he asked.

  “Tell Rāma I can last only a month. Ask him if he remembers that day in spring when we sported by the river in Chitrakūta, when I was covered with garlands that he made for me. Ask if he remembers how he replaced the tilaka mark on my forehead when mine faded.

  “Ask if he remembers that a crow started to bother me, and I became frightened and tried to chase it away. Vexed at my impotence, crying in fear, I found solace in his arms. He laughed and wiped away my tears, and I fell asleep in his embrace. He too slept peacefully, but when I awakened, the crow caught my sārī in his beak, tore off a piece, and flew away. Rāma saw that the crow had harassed me and, his eyes rolling with fury, grabbed a single blade of kusha grass and invoked the dreaded weapon of Brahmā. He flung it at the crow. That crow, who was actually Indra’s son in disguise, flew through all the three worlds, even to his father’s heavenly abode, trying to escape the Brahmā weapon. Finally, exhausted, he landed at Rāma’s feet, begging forgiveness.

 
“Ever compassionate, Rāma said, ‘I will forgive you, but the Brahmā weapon, once invoked, cannot be called back.’ And so Rāma closed the crow’s right eye, to use up the power of the weapon in the least harmful way.

  “Ask Rāma if he remembers how the insult from a mere crow caused him to hurl the weapon of Brahmā for my sake. Ask him how, then, can he and Lakshmana allow me to languish here, the captive of bloodthirsty demons? How can he allow Rāvana to remain unpunished? I know that his power extends beyond the ends of the earth. No one can defeat him in battle. It must be that I have committed an unspeakable sin for Rāma and Lakshmana to forget me like this.

  “Repeat these words to Rāma again and again: if Rāma does not rescue me by the end of one month, I will give up my life.”

  Now Hanumān, his kindly heart overwhelmed with Sītā’s sadness, tried everything in his power to console her. “Believe me, O gentle heart, Rāma is beside himself with grief. Hearing news of you, his strength will be increased a thousandfold. Soon he will destroy this kingdom for you. Have patience, for you will soon be restored to happiness.” Then Hanumān circled Sītā in respect and bowed down at her feet.

  Seeing Hanumān swelling again to his giant size, preparing to leave her, Sītā said, “Bow low to the long-armed Rāma, the scourge of foes, and wish him good fortune. Give my good wishes to the courageous Lakshmana, who looks upon me as a mother and Rāma as a father. Also give my good wishes to Sugrīva and his court. Think carefully how you can help them and end all my suffering. May success stay with you.”

  Holding up the palm of her right hand to bless him, the dark-eyed Sītā honored the devoted monkey, Hanumān.

  Sītā took the ring worn by her lord and, gazing on it,

  was filled with joy, as if she had obtained her husband.

  —Sundara Kānda 36.4

  CHAPTER 37

  Hanumān Destroys Rāvana’s Generals

  AFTER HANUMĀN TOOK leave of Sītā, he paused for a moment to plan his next move. “He who accomplishes the most with least effort is truly a useful servant,” he thought. “If I can now ascertain the strength of Lankā’s armies, I will have served Rāma well.”

  Considering the four means of gaining success over an enemy—negotiations, gifts, sowing dissension, and valor—Hanumān realized that the first three would have no value here. “Negotiations would not work, for the rākshasas are too untrustworthy. Gifts would have no effect on these wealthy rākshasas. It would be impossible to sow dissension among those who are so proud of their strength. That leaves only valor. If the rākshasas see me vanquishing their invincible warriors, it will strike fear into their hearts and weaken them.”

  Hanumān wondered how he could incite Rāvana’s army. “I will destroy this Ashoka Grove, the pleasure park of Rāvana’s wives, which looks like a garden of the gods,” he decided. “Then Rāvana will send out his army, and by fighting them, I will measure their strength.”

  Having decided on a plan, the immensely strong Hanumān raged about the garden, uprooting trees, overturning pavilions, and breaking off the tops of the hills as if they were children’s toys. Eager to fight Rāvana’s forces, Hanumān boldly stood at the gate of that ruined pleasure garden, blazing with light.

  The rākshasa women who guarded Sītā woke up to the cries of deer, tigers, and birds as they fled from the garden. Terrified, they watched Hanumān as he grew in size until he became as large as Mount Meru. “Who is this animal who tore up the garden while our eyes were closed?” they interrogated Sītā. “Weren’t you talking to him while we slept?”

  “Since you are rākshasīs and can change your shape at will, you know more than I do of such creatures,” said Sītā, shaking her head. “I think he must be a demon, come to terrify me.”

  Sītā’s guards escaped the garden and ran to Rāvana’s palace. Finding him in the magnificent throne room meeting with his ministers, the frightened women collapsed at his feet. “O merciful king, a terrifying monkey, whose head touches the clouds, has uprooted all the trees and overturned the pavilions in the garden where Sītā stays. He has been seen conversing with that lady and may even be a messenger from Rāma. The entire Ashoka Grove is destroyed, save the one tree where she sits, shaded by its blossoms.”

  Rāvana’s eyes dripped tears of anger like a ghee lamp dripping hot oil. “Send eighty thousand demons to destroy this monster!” he roared.

  Armed with maces and clubs, this formidable army of rākshasas marched to the gate of the Ashoka Grove, where the valorous Hanumān stood waiting. Waving his massive tail, Hanumān created a din with his ferocious war cries. Birds fell from the sky, confused by the noise and buffeted by winds from the fanning of Hanumān’s tail.

  “Jai Rāma!” he shouted. “Victory to Lakshmana! I am the Son of the Wind, messenger of Rāma. Even if I face a thousand Rāvanas, I can crush them all beneath my feet. I have come here to find Sītā and destroy Lankā.”

  Screaming in fury, the titans rushed at him in a ferocious snarl of teeth, clubs, and weapons. Hanumān grabbed an iron bar from the gate and roared as he wielded it, leaving heaps of dead rākshasas. The few remaining fled to Rāvana. Flinging themselves at Rāvana’s feet, they cried, “He has destroyed all!”

  Rāvana’s ten heads swiveled on his ten necks. “Send the invincible Jambumālī, son of Prahasta!” he screamed.

  Meanwhile, Hanumān, feeling friskier than ever, bounded up the hill to the temple. One thought filled his mind: “I have destroyed Rāvana’s pleasure garden. Now I will burn his temple.”

  Radiant like the sun, he attacked the magnificent temple and toppled its pillars inlaid with gold, ivory, and jewels. Roaring from that peak, he terrified the citizens of Lankā, who could see the giant monkey wreaking havoc on the hill above Rāvana’s palace.

  “Victory to Rāma!” he shouted. “Victory to Lakshmana! Victory to King Sugrīva!”

  One hundred guardians of the temple, armed with sharpened teeth, spears, axes, and arrows, attacked Hanumān. Hoisting one of the temple’s bejeweled pillars, which flashed in the sun, that invincible warrior whirled it around his body, creating a vortex of light. After mowing down the demon guards, he spun the pillar so rapidly that it burst into flames, setting the temple on fire.

  Hanumān stood triumphant on the hill, his colossal form silhouetted against the sky. The hundred demons vanquished, the temple in flames, he bellowed to the citizens of Lankā gathered below, “There are more like me coming to destroy Lankā. Hundreds of thousands of monkeys with sharp nails and teeth have joined forces with Rāma. Some have the strength of one elephant, some of an entire herd—some the strength of Indra, and others have strength unimaginable. Neither you nor Rāvana will survive, for your foolish king has invoked the wrath of Lord Rāma.”

  Then Hanumān heard the thunder of a war chariot bearing down on him from above. It was the floating chariot of Jambumālī, the skilled warrior with ferocious teeth. Charging Hanumān, Jambumālī let loose a volley of iron-tipped arrows, piercing Hanumān’s face and drawing blood.

  Hanumān roared with anger. He tore up a shāla tree by the roots and raised it above his head. Jambumālī shot ten more arrows at Hanumān’s arms. His arms covered with blood, Hanumān bashed the body of Jambumālī with the tree trunk, and the ferocious rākshasa fell to the earth, wounded, and retreated to the palace.

  Next Rāvana sent the seven sons of his ministers. These young warriors, courageous and fierce, rode in golden chariots that rumbled through the sky like thunder. When these invincible youths reached the gate where Hanumān stood, they shot a thick volley of arrows that showered him like a rainstorm.

  Hanumān lithely dodged the arrows, turning this way and that. Letting loose an earsplitting war whoop, striking terror in the hearts of his foes, he leapt on the rākshasas, striking them with his palms, feet, and nails. One by one they fell to the ground, some knocked down by the force of his bellowing alone. T
heir bodies lay in a heap on the earth, along with broken chariots and slain elephants and horses. Blood flowed from the temple hill down through the streets of Lankā, and the families of the ministers cried out in anguish. Filled with energy, eager to fight the next demon, Hanumān once more took his stance at the gate.

  When Rāvana heard of the destruction of his minister’s sons, his red eyes bulged in his ten heads and shot sparks. Quickly he summoned his top five generals, who were each the leaders of vast armies, masterful in strategic planning and valor.

  As they stood before him, their armor and weapons gleaming, Rāvana said, “Brave generals, I do not think this is an ordinary monkey, but a celestial being. Perhaps Indra has sent him to vanquish us. So proceed carefully, even though you are victorious among Devas, demons, and men. Take him prisoner.”

  The five generals led their armies with confidence, never having been defeated in battle. But when they saw Hanumān standing on the hill below their flying chariots, with his massive arms, unbounded strength, and keen intelligence, they felt tremors of fear course through their hearts for the first time.

  It was not long before Hanumān again brandished his shāla tree and knocked three of them from the skies, along with their horses, chariots, and armies of demons. Then he broke off the peak of a nearby mountain, complete with its trees and animals, obliterating the other two generals beneath it. The streets of Lankā were now littered with the bodies of the demon generals and their armies. Having crushed the brave generals along with their chariots and armies, the hero Hanumān rested for a moment at the side of the gate, destructive as time itself at the end of creation.

  As Rāvana heard the news and cast his eyes about the hall, his gaze rested on his youngest son, Aksha. Seeing his father’s nod, Aksha sprang forth eagerly, thrilled to prove himself in battle.