by Alan Garner
Then Ravana, with angry eyes, sprang upon Jatayu, and there was a deadly battle in the sky; many weapons he showered on Jatayu, while the king of birds wounded Ravana with beak and claw. So many arrows pierced Jatayu that he seemed like a bird half hidden in a nest; but he broke with his feet two bows of Ravana’s, and destroyed the sky-faring chariot, so that Ravana fell down onto the earth, with Sita in his lap.
But Jatayu by then was weary, and Ravana sprang up again and fell upon him, and with a dagger cut away his wings, so that he fell at the point of death. Sita went to her friend, and clasped him with her arms, but he lay motionless and silent like an extinguished forest fire.
Then Ravana seized her again and went his way across the sky. Against the body of the rakshasa she shone like golden lightning amidst heavy clouds, or cloth of gold upon a sable elephant. All nature grieved for her: the lotus flower faded, the sun grew dark, the mountains wept in waterfalls and lifted up their summits like arms, the woodland gods were terrified, the young fawns shed tears, and every creature lamented.
But Brahma, seeing Sita carried away, rejoiced in Heaven, that One Creator of the World, and said, “Our work is accomplished now,” forseeing Ravana’s death. The hermits were glad and sorry at once: sorry for Sita, and glad that Ravana must die.
Now, as they drove through the sky in such a fashion, Sita saw five great monkeys on a mountain top, and to them she cast down her jewels and her golden veil as a token for Rama.
Ravana left behind the woods and mountains, and crossed the sea, and came to his great fortress city of Lanka, and put Sita in an inner room, all alone and served and guarded well. Spies were sent to keep watch on Rama. Then Ravana returned and showed to Sita all his palace and treasure and gardens, and prayed her to be his wife, and wooed her in every way; but she hid her face and sobbed with wordless tears.
And when he urged her again she took a blade of grass and laid it between Ravana and herself, and prophesied his death at Rama’s hands and the ruin of all rakshasas, and utterly rejected him. Then he turned from prayer to threats, and, calling horrid rakshasas, gave her to their charge, and commanded them to break her spirit, whether by violence or by temptation. There was the gentle Sita, like a sinking ship, or a doe amongst a pack of dogs.
2. HANUMAN
VI
Now Rama, returning from the chase of Maricha, was heavy-hearted, and meeting Lakshman, he blamed him much for leaving Sita.
The jackals howled and birds cried as they hurried back. Near to the house the feet of Rama failed him, and a trembling shook his frame; for Sita was not there.
They ranged the groves of flowering trees, and the river banks where lotus flowers were open, and sought the mountain caves, and asked the river and the trees and all the animals where Sita was. Then Rama deemed that rakshasas had eaten her, taking revenge for the first battle. But next they came to where Jatayu had fought with Ravana, and saw the broken weapons and the chariot and the trampled ground; and Rama raged against all beings, and would destroy the very heavens and earth, unless the gods gave back his Sita.
Then they noticed the dying Jatayu, and deeming him to be a rakshasa that had eaten Sita, Rama was about to slay him. But Jatayu spoke feebly, and related to Rama all that had befallen, so that Rama, throwing down his bow, embraced the bird and lamented for his death; and Jatayu told of Ravana and comforted Rama with assurances of victory and recovery of Sita. But therewith his spirit fled away, and his head and body sank down upon the ground; and Rama mourned over his friend.
“Ah, Lakshman,” he said, “this kingly bird dwelt here contented many years, and now is dead because of me: he has given up his life in trying to rescue Sita. Behold, amongst the animals of every rank there are heroes, even amongst birds. I am more sorry for this vulture that has died for me than even because of Sita’s loss.”
Then Lakshman brought wood and fire, and they burnt Jatayu there with every rite and offering due, and spoke the prayers for his speedy coming to the abodes of the shining gods; and that king of vultures, slain in battle for a good cause, and blessed by Rama, attained a glorious state.
Then Rama and Lakshman set out to search for Sita far and wide; it was but a little time before they met a horrid rakshasa, and it was no light matter for them to come to their above in battle with him. But he, wounded to death, rejoiced, for he had been cursed with that form by a hermit until Rama should slay and set him free. Rama and Lakshman burnt him on a mighty pyre, and he rose from it, and, mounting upon a heavenly chariot, he spoke to Rama, counselling him to seek the help of the great monkey Sugriva and the four other monkeys that dwelt on the mountain.
“Do not despise that royal monkey,” he said, “for he is puissant, humble, brave, expert, and graceful, good at shifting shapes, and well acquainted with the haunts of every rakshasa. Do you make alliance with him, taking a vow of friendship before a fire as witness, and with his help you will surely win back Sita.”
Then he departed, bidding them farewell and pointing the way to the mountain; and they came to that wooded mountain, place of many birds, beside the Pampa lake.
Now this monkey Sugriva lived in exile, driven from home and robbed of his wife by his cruel brother; and when he saw the great-eyed heroes bearing arms, he deemed them to have been sent by his brother for his destruction.
So he fled away, and he sent his next monkey, Hanuman, disguised as a hermit, to speak with the heroes and learn their purpose. Then Lakshman told him all that had befallen, and that now Rama sought Sugriva’s aid. So Hanuman, considering that Sugriva also needed a champion for the recovery of his wife and kingdom, led the heroes to Sugriva, and there Rama and the monkey-chief held converse.
Hanuman made fire with two pieces of wood, and passing sunwise about it, Rama and Sugriva were made sworn friends, and each bound himself to aid the other. They gazed at each other intently, and neither had his fill of seeing the other. Then Sugriva told his story and prayed Rama for his aid, and he engaged himself to be the monkey-chief’s brother, and in return Sugriva undertook to recover Sita.
He told Rama how he had seen her carried away by Ravana, and how she had dropped her veil and her jewels, and he showed these tokens to Rama.
Rama knew them, but Lakshman said, “I do not recognise the bracelets or the ear-rings, but I know the anklets well, for I was not used to lift my eyes above her feet.”
Now Rama fared with Sugriva to the monkey-king’s city, and overcame the cruel usurper, and established Sugriva on the throne.
Then four months of the rainy season passed away, and when the skies grew clear and the floods diminished, Sugriva sent out his marshals to summon the monkey host. They came from Himalaya and Vindhya and Kailas, from the east and from the west, from far and near, from caves and forests, in hundreds and thousands and millions, and each host was captained by a veteran leader.
All the monkeys in the world assembled there, and stood before Sugriva with joined hands. Then Sugriva gave them to Rama for his service, and would place them under his command. But Rama thought it best that Sugriva should issue all orders, since he best understood the stratagems of such a host, and was well acquainted with the matter to be accomplished.
VII
As yet, neither Rama nor Lakshman nor Sugriva knew more of Ravana than his name; none could tell how or where he dwelt or where he kept Sita hidden. Sugriva therefore dispatched all the host under leaders to search the four quarters for a month, as far as the uttermost bound of any land where men or demons dwelt or sun shone.
But he trusted as much in Hanuman as in all the host together; for Hanuman, the son of the windgod, had his father’s energy and swiftness and vehemence and power of access to every place in earth or sky, and he was brave and politic and keen of wit and well aware of conduct befitting the time and place. And much as Sugriva relied on Hanuman, Hanuman was even more confident of his own power. Rama also put his trust in Hanuman, and gave him his signet-ring to show for a sign to Sita when he should discover her.
And after a month the hosts came back from searching the north and west and east, sorry and dejected that they had not found Sita. But the southern host searched all the woods and caves and hidden places, till at last they came to the mighty ocean, boundless, resounding, covered with dreadful waves. A month had passed and Sita was not found, therefore the monkeys sat, gazing over the sea and waiting for their end, for they dared not return to Sugriva.
But there dwelt a mighty and very aged vulture in a neighbouring cave, and he, hearing the monkeys talking of his brother Jatayu, came forth and asked for news of him. Then the monkeys related to him the whole affair, and the vulture answered that he had seen Sita carried away by Ravana and that Ravana dwelt in Lanka, a hundred leagues across the sea.
“Do you repair thither,” he said, “and avenge the rape of Sita and the murder of my brother. For I have the gift of foresight, and even now I perceive that Ravana and Sita are there in Lanka.”
Then the monkeys grew more hopeful, but when they marched down to the shore and sat beside the heaving sea they were again downcast, and took counsel together sadly enough.
Now one monkey said he could bound over twenty leagues, and another fifty, and one eighty, and one ninety; and one could cross over a hundred, but his power would not avail for the return. Then a noble monkey addressed Hanuman, and recalled his birth and origin, how the windgod had begotten him, and his mother had reared him in the mountains, and when he was still a child he had thought the sun to be a fruit growing in the sky, and sprang easily three thousand leagues towards it.
“And do you, heroic monkey, prove your prowess now and bound across the ocean,” he said, “for we look on you as our champion, and you do surpass all things in movement and in vehemence.”
Then Hanuman roused himself, and the monkey host rejoiced. Swelling with pride and might, he boasted of the deed he would accomplish.
Then he rushed up the mountain Mahendra, shaking it in his wrath and frightening every beast that lived in its woods and caves. Intent upon achieving a hard task, where no friend could help and no foe hindered, Hanuman stood with head uplifted like a bull, praying to the sun, to the mountain wind and to all beings, he set his heart in the work to be accomplished.
He grew great, and stood, like a fire, with bristling hair, and roared like thunder, brandishing his tail; so he gathered energy of mind and body.
“I will discover Sita or bring Ravana away in chains,” he thought, and therewith sprang up so that the very trees were dragged after him with his force. He hurtled through the air, his flashing eyes like forest fires, his lifted tail like the rainbow.
So Hanuman held his way across the ocean. Nor, when the friendly ocean lifted up Mount Mainaka, well wooded and full of fruits and roots, would Hanuman stay to rest, but, rising up, coursed through the shining air.
Then a grim she-demon rose from the sea and caught him by the shadow, and would devour him, but he dashed into her mouth, and, growing exceeding great, burst away again, leaving her dead and broken. Then he perceived the farther shore, and thinking his huge form ill-fitted for a secret mission, he resumed his natural size and shape, and so alighted on the shore of Lanka, nor was he ever so wearied or fatigued.
On the mountain summit Hanuman beheld the city of Lanka, girt with a golden wall, and filled with buildings huge as cloudy mountains. Impatiently he waited for the setting of the sun; then, shrinking to the size of a cat, he entered the city at night, unseen by the guards.
Hanuman made his way to the palace of Ravana, towering on the mountain top, girt with wall and moat. By now the moon was full and high, sailing like a swan, and Hanuman beheld the dwellers in the palace, some drinking, some sorry and some glad, some eating, some making music, and some sleeping. Many a fair bride lay in her husband’s arms, but Sita of peerless virtue he could not find; wherefore that eloquent monkey was cast down and disappointed.
Then he sprang from court to court, visiting the quarters of all the foremost rakshasas, till at last he came to Ravana’s own apartments, a very mine of gold and jewels, ablaze with silver light. Everywhere he sought for Sita, and left no corner unexplored; golden stairs and painted chariots and crystal windows and secret chambers set with gems, all these he beheld, but never Sita. The odour of meat and drink he sniffed, and to his nostrils there came also the all-pervading Air, and it said to him:
“Come hither, where Ravana lies.”
Following Air, he came to Ravana’s sleeping place. There lay the lord of the rakshasas upon a glorious bed asleep and breathing heavily. Huge was his frame, decked with splendid jewels, like a crimson sunset cloud pierced by flashes of lightning; his big hands lay on the white cloth like terrible five-hooded serpents. Four golden lamps on pillars lit his bed.
Around him lay his wives, fair as the moon, decked in glorious gems and garlands that never faded. And there was Ravana’s queen, exceeding all other in her splendour and loveliness; and Hanuman guessed she must be Sita, and the thought enlivened him, so that he waved his arms and frisked his tail and sang and danced and climbed the golden pillars and sprang down again, as his monkey-nature moved him.
But reflection showed his error, for he said: “Without Rama, Sita would not eat or drink or sleep or decorate her person, nor would she company with any other than he. This is some other one.”
So Hanuman ranged farther through the palace, searching many a bower in vain. Many fair ones he beheld, but never Sita, and he deemed she must be slain or eaten by the rakshasas. So he left the palace and sat awhile in deep dejection on the city wall.
“If I return without discovering Sita,” he reflected, “my labour will have been in vain. And what will my king Sugriva say, and Rama, and the monkey host? Surely Rama will die of grief. No more shall the noble monkeys assemble amongst the woods and mountains or in secret places and indulge in games; but a loud wailing will arise when I return, and they will swallow poison, or hang themselves, or jump down from lofty mountains. Therefore I must not return unsuccessful; better that I should starve and die. It is not right that all those noble monkeys should perish on my account. I shall remain here and search Lanka again and again; even this Asoka wood beyond the walls shall be examined.”
Then Hanuman bowed to Rama, to Sita, and to Death; to the Wind, the Moon and Fire, and to Sugriva, and praying to these with thought intent, he ranged the Asoka wood with his imagination – and met with Sita. Then he sprang from the wall like an arrow from a bow, and entered the wood in bodily shape.
The wood was a place of pleasure and delight, full of flowering trees and happy animals; but Hanuman ravaged it and broke the trees.
One beautiful Asoka tree stood alone, amongst pavilions and gardens, built round with golden pavements and silver walls. Hanuman sprang up this tree and kept watch all about, thinking that Sita, if she were in the forest, would come to that lovely place. He saw a marble palace, with stairs of coral and floors of shining gold, and there lay one imprisoned, weak and thin as if with fasting, sighing for heavy grief, clad in soiled robes, and guarded by horrid demons, like a deer amongst the dogs or a shining flame behind smoke.
Then Hanuman considered that this must be Sita, for she was fair and spotless, like a moon overcast by clouds, and she wore such jewels as Rama had described to him. Hanuman shed tears of joy and thought of Rama and Lakshman. But now, while he was yet hidden on the tree, Ravana had waked, and that lordly rakshasa came with a great train of women to the Asoka wood, and Hanuman heard the sound of their tinkling anklets as they passed across the golden pavements.
Ravana came towards Sita, and when she saw him she trembled like a plantain tree shaken by the wind, and hid her face and sobbed. Then he wooed her in every way, tempting her with wealth and power and comfort; but she refused him utterly, and foretold his death at Rama’s hands.
But
Ravana waxed wood-wrath, and gave a two-month term, after which, if she yielded not, she should be tortured and slain; and leaving her to the horrid guards with orders to break her will, Ravana returned with his wives to his apartment. Then Sita crept to the foot of the Asoka tree where Hanuman was hidden.
Hanuman reflected that there was need for him to speak with Sita; but he feared to frighten her, or to attract the notice of the guard and bring destruction on himself, for, though he had might to slay the rakshasa host, he could not, if wearied out, return across the ocean.
So he stayed hidden in the branches of the tree and recited Rama’s virtues and deeds, speaking in gentle tones, till Sita heard him. She caught her breath with fear and looked up into the tree, and saw the monkey; eloquent was he and humble, and his eyes glowed like golden fire. Then he came down out of the tree, and with joined palms spoke to Sita. Then she told him that she was Sita and asked for news of Rama, and Hanuman told her all that had befallen and spoke of Rama and Lakshman, so that she was well-nigh as glad as if she had seen Rama himself.
But Hanuman came a little nearer, and Sita was much afraid, thinking him to be Ravana in disguise. He had much ado to persuade her that he was Rama’s friend. But at last, when she beheld the signet-ring, it seemed to her as if she were already saved, and she was glad and sorry at once – glad to know that Rama was alive and well, and sorry for his grief.
Then Hanuman suggested that he should carry Sita on his back across the sea to Rama. She praised his strength, but would not go with him, because she thought she might fall from his back into the sea, especially if the rakshasas followed them, and because she would not willingly touch any person but Rama, and because she desired that the glory of her rescue and the destruction of the rakshasas should be Rama’s.
“But do you speedily bring Rama here,” she prayed.
Then Hanuman praised her wisdom and modesty, and asked for a token for Rama; and she told him of an adventure with a crow, known only to herself and Rama, and she gave him a jewel from her hair, and sent a message to Rama and to Lakshman, praying them to rescue her.
