by Ramesh Menon
“And having variously blessed Hanuman Vayuputra, Brahma, Rudra, and the Devas returned to their supernal realms. Vayu, wafter of fragrances, brought Hanuman home to his anxious mother on Sumeru. He told her about all that had chanced with her marvelous child, when she went to pluck fruits in the forest. And Vayu left Hanuman with Anjana, dissolved into a breathy wind, and vanished into his ubiquitous airs.
“Replete with great boons from the Gods, Hanuman grew into a young vanara, bursting with vigor, strength, and often mischief. He was not always as humble and self-effacing as when you met him, Rama. He was even in the habit, as a youth, of disturbing the munis of the forest at their solemn yagnas. At first he would rip to shreds any valkala he found hung out to dry. Then, as he grew bolder, he would leap down out of a tree and snatch a ladle from a rishi about to pour oblation into a sacred fire, or break the sacrificial vessels, full of holy water or other offerings.
“The rishis knew the young vanara was proof against their direst curses because of Brahma’s boon to him. They came and complained to Anjana’s husband Kesari, Hanuman’s foster father, and to Anjana herself. But despite their admonishing Hanuman, he continued with his profligate ways. The rishis took their complaint to Vayu himself, invoking the Wind God with worship. But Hanuman was arrogant and tameless.
“The greatest rishis, born in the line of Bhrigu and Angiras, decided to curse Hanuman. They did not, however, curse him with death, but only to a long forgetfulness: of his own strength, of who his father was, and of the boons he had from the Gods.
“They said, ‘When you remember these things again, Hanuman, at a great juncture of destiny, when you are on a mission for Vishnu’s own Avatara, then your glory will return to you. But by then you will be a mature vanara, and your wisdom will have grown so you will never again abuse your powers as you have done in your youth.’
“From that day, a sea change came over the young monkey’s nature. He grew mild and placid, because he did not remember any more who he was or how strong he was. He would go to the very asramas he had ravaged in his wild days, sit at the rishis’ feet, and learn from them. He now became the embodiment of patience and gentleness. The sages who had known him in the past, as an irreverent whirlwind of a monkey, were astonished at the transformation, until they learned what had happened.
“Those were the days when Vali and Sugriva’s father, the magnificent Riksharajas, was the Lord of all the monkey people of the earth. He was as splendid as Surya Deva was; but then, inevitably, time conquered him and he passed on. Vali became king, and Sugriva the yuvaraja. You know of the enmity that developed between the brothers, and how Vali chased Sugriva from his kingdom and took his wife Ruma for himself.
“It was the rishis’ curse that kept Hanuman from avenging the wrong done to Sugriva, whom he loved as dearly as the wind does the fire. For in truth not even great Vali was Hanuman’s equal. Ah, who is there on earth who is Hanuman’s equal in strength, in vitality, in amiability, in wisdom, cleverness, virility, and discernment?
“Did you know that once he turned his face to the sun, when he wanted to learn the ancient wisdoms; and gazing thus at his blinding preceptor, he walked from the eastern mountain to the western one, where the sun sets? It is said that Hanuman knows as much as Brihaspati does, of both gyana and dhyana.
“And, Rama, what is perhaps not commonly known is that like Hanuman, the other great vanara chieftains, Sugriva, Mainda, Dwividha, Neela, Angada, Nala, Gaja, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Sudamshtra, Prabha, and Jyotimukha, were also Devas’ sons and born to help you achieve your purpose in the world. Without them, very likely, Ravana would still be alive, and his shadow would cover the earth in fear.”
Thus, in Rama’s sabha, Agastya revealed many things that had been kept hidden so far. At last the muni smiled and said, “Now, Rama, you must give us rishis leave: our tapasya is never complete and the earth is always in need of our prayers.”
Rama rose with tears in his eyes. He said, “My lords, your blessings must always be upon my kingdom and on me. I have another favor to ask you, holy ones. I mean to perform many yagnas, in time, to thank the Gods for my good fortune, and to have their grace upon my land and my people. I beg you all to come to my sacrifices and sit over them.”
One by one, the rishis blessed Rama and left Ayodhya, some walking away from the city of destiny, where Vishnu’s Avatara ruled, others flying into the air and vanishing by glimmering sky paths. Night had fallen, and Rama went in to Sita, waiting in his antapura.
22. In Rama’s sabha
The next morning, his second day as king, Rama was roused by the vabdhis and magadhis, with songs as sweet as the kinnaras sing. They woke him with fulsome praise.
“Awake, O King, who are the joy of your mother Kausalya; for, Lord, all the world remains in a stupor while you sleep. O you are as powerful as Narayana, handsome as the Aswins, wise as Brihaspati, and regal as Brahma. Your patience is like the earth’s, your glory is like the sun’s, your swiftness like the wind’s, and your heart is as deep as the ocean. In war you are as invincible as Siva, and yet your nature is as gentle as the moon’s.
“Arise, O Rama, and shine upon your kingdom and your people!”
And Rama awoke and rose from his bed, even like Vishnu from Ananta. As the three Vedas wait on a great yagna, Rama found Lakshmana, Bharata, and Shatrughna waiting for him in his chamber. A hundred muditas, servants, waited on his pleasure as well. The twenty vanara chieftains, and Sugriva their king, waited for him, too, as did Jambavan and his wild and noble reekshas. Like yakshas attending on Kubera, Vibheeshana and his four loyal rakshasas waited for Rama.
And many others, besides, were there, among them important ministers of his court. All these sat in his royal apartment, waiting for him to awaken. Some illustrious rishis also waited for Rama, and he rose and came to them even as Indra does to his Devas in Amravati.
And so it was every day; and Rama would go with these loving friends and counselors to his sabha, to minister to his people; and his grace spread through all the kingdom.
Then, one day, he folded his hands to King Janaka, the rajarishi, and said, “My lord, you are our greatest, immutable support. It was by the power of your tapasya that I was able to kill Ravana. I beg you, father, accept these humble tokens of my love. I know you want to return to Mithila; let Bharata and Shatrughna ride with you as your escort.”
A treasure of gifts was presented to the king of Mithila. A beaming Janaka blessed Rama and said, “I am too old to enjoy these precious things. If you allow me, I will leave them for Sita.”
Rama bowed to Janaka, and that august king embraced his daughter and then left for his own kingdom in great contentment. Having seen Janaka off at the palace gates, Rama now turned to Kaikeyi’s brother, the noble Yudhajit, who had come from the kingdom of Kekaya to represent his father, Asvapati, at Rama’s coronation.
Rama said gently to that kshatriya, “Uncle, you, too, must leave today. I am certain that at his age, your father misses you sorely. I will send Lakshmana with you and he will bring some gifts from us to your father.”
When Yudhajit saw the priceless gifts Rama meant to send to his father, he remembered how Rama had been banished to the forest. He said, “Rama, let these gifts remain here in Ayodhya with you. It is only just.”
Rama embraced him, and Yudhajit walked in a pradakshina around Rama and then set out with Lakshmana.
Now Rama went up to his friend Pratardana, the king of Kasi. He said, “My lord, I know you tried, with Bharata, to send me a legion of soldiers to Lanka. Alas, they did not arrive in time for the war, but I can never forget your intention. I must not keep you any more, my friend, from your wonderful city. I thank you with all my heart for having come for my abhisheka.”
They also embraced, and then Pratardana set out for home with the guard he had brought with him. Rama turned to the three hundred other kshatriyas who had come for his coronation and to declare their loyalty. To them he said, “My brothers, it is your prayers and
your unflinching dharma that helped me prevail against the enemy. While I was away, you have all been of such support to Bharata that I can never forget your love and your generosity.”
They replied, “It is our greatest fortune that you killed the Rakshasa. It was not only for Sita that you fought, you and your jungle army; but for us all, for all our kingdoms: why, for the very earth herself, to set her free from Ravana’s dark bondage.
“From now on, our kingdoms are yours to rule. You are enshrined in our hearts, noble Rama, and all we ask from you is your love; because we know how incomparable a possession that is.”
And they, also, those noble three hundred, who had always resisted the yoke of Lanka, left for their kingdoms spread across Bharatavarsha. But before they went, they had the invaluable gifts they had brought for Rama’s coronation fetched into the sabha of Ayodhya.
When those kshatriyas left, the earth shook at their going, so immense were their legions, flowing like rivers across the earth. When they had seen Janaka and Yudhajit back to their kingdoms, Bharata, Shatrughna, and Lakshmana returned to Ayodhya laden with horses, chariots, precious stones, elephants, intricately carved sandalwood chests, servants, gold by the cartload, and other treasures those kings had given them. They brought these home to Rama.
Rama gave most of them away to the vanaras, who wore the jewels and ornaments with such delight, and to Vibheeshana’s rakshasas. Rama called Hanuman and Angada to sit beside him in his sabha. He unfastened his own ornaments from his person and tied them on the two vanaras, saying to Sugriva, “But for them I would never have won the war, my friend.”
He called Neela, Nala, Kesari, Kumuda, Gandhamadana, Sushena, Panasa, the great Mainda, Dwividha, Jambavan, Gavaksha, Vinata, Dhumra, Balimukha, Prajangha, Sannada, Darimukha, Dadhimukha, Indrajanu, and many others, and, his eyes moist, gave them more gifts such as they loved. Rama said, “You are all like my brothers, why, like parts of myself. Jungle dwellers, you are the greatest friends a man can have!”
And the monkey folk stayed on in Ayodhya for a month, drinking sweet honey and being fed royal delicacies. And Rama and his brothers spent many happy hours with the vanaras, who could, many of them, change their forms at will; and with the rakshasas, who were a truly magical people, blessed with all sorts of occult siddhis; and with Jambavan’s great bears, who were as loving and patient as they were strong.
But soon it was obvious that the vanaras and the rakshasas had begun to long for their own homes. The monkeys yearned for the forest and the primitive spaces of the wilds: for charmed pools and lakes, for sparkling rivers, for mystic mountains and star-crowded skies, under which their true and free lives lay in wait for them. The rakshasas also longed for the din of waves that was like the very rhythm of their days and nights, in the jewel that was Lanka.
So one day, when a month had passed, Rama said to Sugriva, “My friend, I see your people are growing restless in our city. I know you are loath to tell me you want to return to your forests, lest you hurt me. It is true I would love to keep you here with me forever, but I know you would soon be unhappy away from your home in the wild. So reluctantly, my brother, I give you leave to go. Take your noble, noble vanaras with you, Sugriva, and my undying love and gratitude. How can I thank you all, who risked your lives for me with no hesitation? No, I cannot, not in a hundred lifetimes.”
With tears in his gentle eyes again, Rama turned to Vibheeshana. “And you, my dearest Vibheeshana, who to me are one of the wisest of the earth: you must also leave for home, for I see in your face that you long for Lanka and your wives and your people. And they have need of you. Ah, my friends, I would keep you all here with me and never send you away, but I know you will hardly be happy away from your homes. So I will let you leave now, all of you. But you must promise me you will return soon to Ayodhya, for I will miss you all more than I can say.
“It is only perhaps once in a lifetime that fate forges such friendship as we have. We have walked together through death’s valley.”
And every vanara and rakshasa had tears in his eyes. Hanuman came and knelt before Rama. He said, “Rama, may my love for you last forever. May my bhakti for you never turn to anyone else. And may this body of mine continue to live as long as your story is told upon the earth. Let me hear your life again and again, from the lips of apsaras, so that I feel your presence near me and see you before my eyes whenever I long for you.”
Rama embraced Hanuman fervently and said, “So be it, O best among vanaras. Let your fame live in this world for as long as my story is told in it, and let there be life in your body for as long. And, Hanuman, this tale shall be told in this world for as long as the world lives. And so shall you live, as long as the earth turns round, O Chiranjivi.
“As for me, I would gladly give up my life for every favor you have done for me; and they are so many! Vanara, I am forever in your debt. But let me never have to repay any service you have rendered me, because it is only when one is in trouble that one needs to recall the debts one is owed.”
Rama untied a string of pearls that shone like small moons from his neck, with a mystic cat’s-eye in their midst, and fastened it around Hanuman’s throat. And the vanara was as splendid as golden Meru with the full moon risen over him.
The vanaras rose, one by one, and knelt before Rama, touching their heads to his holy feet. So, too, did the rakshasas and Jambavan’s reekshas quaintly kneel. Rama blessed them all and he clasped Sugriva and Vibheeshana to him. As they, his friends dear to him as his life, bid farewell to Rama, they seemed stupefied with grief. It is told that the vanaras, the four rakshasas, and the mighty black bears left Ayodhya and its king as reluctantly as a soul leaves a body that it has lived in for a lifetime.
23. The pushpaka vimana
By noon, the vanaras, reekshas, and rakshasas had all departed. Rama and his brothers sat out on an open terrace to take the soft afternoon sun, when suddenly an indescribably sweet voice spoke out of the sky.
“Rama,” it said, “look on me with love in your eyes of light. It is I, the pushpaka, returned from Kubera’s city where you sent me.”
They looked up in surprise and saw the disk hung in the clear azure above them. Rama asked, “What happened, O vimana?”
“I returned to my Lord Kubera, but he said to me, ‘Rama of Ayodhya killed Ravana in battle. You rightly belong to him from now. Go back to Rama, gentle friend; bear him wherever he wants to go. There is nothing that would please me more, because Rama is the protector of the worlds’ So I flew to you from Alaka. I beg you, Rama, let me bear you through all the realms for as long as you remain in this world.”
Rama said, “I thank you, sublime spirit, O best of all vimanas.”
He worshipped the crystal ship with fried rice grains, flowers, sandalwood paste, and incense. Rama said, “Go now to your subtle realms, and come to me whenever I call you.”
The vimana circled Rama thrice, in the sky, and vanished into the dimension of the siddhas. Now Bharata folded his palms to Rama and said in wonder, “Beings that are not born of Manu speak like men to you! It is just a month since you sat upon Ayodhya’s throne, and already disease and death have vanished from the kingdom. Even the eldest of men are full of health and vigor. Women feel no pain when they deliver children. The rains that fall are sweet as amrita. And I am told this uncanny grace exists not only in Kosala, but in every kingdom of Bharatavarsha. The people all say, ‘May Rama rule us forever!’”
And Rama stroked his brother’s head and smiled.
24. The terrible decision
When the pushpaka vimana had gone, Rama went to a private garden in Ayodhya, where a profusion of chandana, aguru, deodar, champaka, punnaga, madhuka, asana, and other trees grew: the finest of their kinds. Unearthly parijatas here were like a mass of smokeless flames, with the sap of their sires that grow in Devaloka.
Lodhra, nipa, arjuna, naga, saptaparna, atimuktaka, mandara bakula, kadamba, jambu, and kovidara grew here as well, covered with feasts of fruit and flo
wers and slender creepers clinging to their mighty trunks. Bees and sunbirds, shining miracles hanging in the air, sipped their honey. Other birds, kokilas and bhringarajas, were like flashing, many-colored jewels in the branches, some golden-leaved, others like scarlet fires, and still others like kohl, darkling.
The great garden was dotted with scented pools, which had flights of steps leading down to transparent water, stairs paved with rubies that ended in crystal platforms beneath their surface. Carnivals of lilies bloomed on these pools, and chakravakas swam among them, as did teal and ibis, moonwhite goose, duck, and royal swan. Cranes stooped over the pellucid water.
All that secluded garden seemed like an immense, indescribable jewel. Stone benches were laid under the spreading, interwoven trees, and these bore thick flower cushions in every color of the season. Why, this vanika was as lovely as Indra’s Nandana in Devaloka and the Chaitra that Brahma created for Kubera on the Alaka mountain.
Rama came into this garden and found Sita at its heart, waiting for him on a stone seat. Rama wrung some sweet nectar from a few flowers, a drink as heady as maireyaka wine, and gave this to Sita to drink: even as Indra makes Sachi drink.
Food and fruit were laid out for the king and his queen, and when they were alone, a troop of apsaras materialized before them and sinuous naga women, with gandharvas and kinnaras. They drank with Rama and Sita; they sang and danced for them. When the mood was set and the drink high in the royal couple’s veins, the unearthly minstrels and dancers vanished as they had come. Rama turned to his love and drew her tenderly to him.
