by Valmiki
The monkeys gazed in horror at the massive ocean with its huge waves that roared and thundered. They realized that the month stipulated by Sugrīva had elapsed while they had been in the magic cave and now, sitting at the foot of the densely-wooded Vindhya mountain, the mighty monkeys fell to worrying.
Crown prince Angada, with shoulders as strong as a lion’s and mighty arms, spoke. ‘We all left Kiṣkindha under strict instructions from the king. But the month has passed without our knowing. We have no option now but to fast until we die!
‘Sugrīva is our king and he is ruthless. He will definitely kill us if we return unsuccessful. He will never forgive us if we return without any news of Sītā. It is better to die here, fasting, than to die at his hands. It was not Sugrīva who made me the heir, it was Rāma! Sugrīva was our sworn enemy before this and now he is our master! I am sure he will not hesitate to inflict a terrible punishment upon me! Why should my friends and family suffer by watching me die? It is far better that I starve to death here by the shores of the sacred ocean!’
The monkeys agreed with what Angada had said. ‘Indeed, Sugrīva is cruel by nature and Rāma is madly in love! The month has passed without us getting even a glimpse of Sītā! If we return without success, Sugrīva will definitely kill us to make Rāma happy!’ they said.
Tāra heard the frightened monkeys chattering and he said, ‘Enough of this sadness! We can go and live in that cave and enjoy ourselves! It is a magical cave and it is difficult to enter. It is filled with trees and water and roots and fruits. We have nothing to fear in there, even from Indra, let alone from Rāma or Sugrīva!’ The monkeys heard Tāra’s speech that seemed to agree with Angada’s plan and they were reassured. ‘Do whatever it takes to ensure that we are not punished!’ they begged.
At this point, Hanumān realized that Angada had all but won the kingship of the monkeys. He saw Angada growing in power, strength and majesty, like the waxing moon at the beginning of the bright lunar fortnight. Angada, who was as wise as Bṛhaspati and as brave as his father, seemed willing to fall in with Tāra’s plan.
Hanumān was devoted to his master and skilled in the arts of politics. He began to create dissension among the monkeys. Once he got the monkeys away from Angada, he started to intimidate Angada with angry threats. ‘You are a greater warrior than your uncle and as capable of ruling the monkeys as your father, Angada! But you know that monkeys are fickle by nature. Without their wives and children here, they will soon stop obeying your commands. And let me also tell you, that none of us, not me, not Jāmbavān, Nīla or Suhotra, will join you! You cannot win us over from our allegiance to Sugrīva by offering us bribes or with threats.
‘The mighty can fight with the weak and establish themselves, but the weak should never take on the strong if they want to survive. You think this cave is an impregnable defence, but I tell you that Lakṣmaṇa can destroy it with his arrows as if it were nothing! If you decide to stay where you are, the monkeys will desert you in no time. Pining for their wives and children, living in fear and starvation, regretting the hard beds on which they must lie, they will soon turn their backs on you!
‘Without your family and friends and your well-wishers, you shall live in terror, frightened even of a trembling blade of grass! And Lakṣmaṇa’s arrows, swift, sure and deadly as they are, will haunt you all the time! But if you return with us humbly, Sugrīva will make you king in the course of time. Your uncle loves dharma. He is determined to do the right thing and win your affection. His heart is pure and he keeps his promises. He will never kill you! He wants to win your mother’s love. In fact, that’s what he lives for! Besides that, he has no son of his own. Come back with us, Angada!’
Angada listened to Hanumān’s speech which was filled with devotion to his master. ‘Steadiness, purity of mind, compassion, resolution and courage are all virtues that Sugrīva lacks!’ he replied. ‘How can he know and love dharma when he takes his elder brother’s chief queen as his own, even while his brother is alive? He should regard her as a mother! How can he know dharma when he blocked the entrance to the cave while his brother was engaged in combat? How can he be honourable when he made a pact with Rāma and after gaining his own ends, forgot about his part of the bargain?
‘He ordered the search for Sītā because he was terrified of Lakṣmaṇa, not because he was reluctant to violate dharma! How can it be said that he loves dharma? How can a noble and well-born kinsman trust this creature who is fickle and ungrateful, conveniently forgetting the favours that he receives? A son is installed as a successor, whether he is good or bad. How will Sugrīva tolerate the continued presence of his enemy’s son? Why should I go and live in Kiṣkindha, weak, vulnerable, powerless and without a friend, especially when I have failed in the task assigned to me?
‘Sugrīva is ruthless, deceitful and cruel. He will at least have me imprisoned as a lesser punishment in order to keep the kingdom! Death by fasting brings me greater glory than imprisonment! Let the monkeys give me permission to do this and they can return home! I swear before all of you that I shall not enter that city! I shall fast to death right here. This death shall be more glorious.
‘Pay my respects to Sugrīva, the king of the monkeys, and give him my best wishes for his welfare. Ask with sincerity about the health of my aunt Rūmā and console my mother Tārā. She has been a loving mother and she has suffered a lot. When she hears that I have died here, I am sure that she will kill herself!’, Angada honoured his elders and fell weeping onto the ground that was covered with darbha grass.
All the other monkeys also began to weep when they saw Angada so distressed. They condemned Sugrīva and sang Vālī’s praises as they gathered around Angada, determined to die with him. They felt sure that his decision was good for them, too. They purified themselves with ritual ablutions and lay down on the darbha grass that lined the northern shore of the ocean. The mountain echoed the wailing of the monkeys who were as large as mountains themselves, as if it were echoing the thundering of rain clouds.
Chapter Nine
The king of the vultures, a wise old bird named Sampāti, happened to come by the place where the monkeys lay, determined to starve themselves to death. He was Jaṭāyu’s brother and was famous for his strength and courage. He came out of a hollow in the Vindhya mountains and was delighted to see the monkeys lying there.
‘Truly, destiny looks after all the creatures in the world and provides for their needs,’ he said happily as he watched them. ‘The food I have waited for so long has finally come to me! I shall eat each generation of monkeys as they die one after the other!’
Angada heard what the hungry bird said and, terrified, he turned to Hanumān. ‘The god of death has arrived in this form to finish off the monkeys! And it is all because of Sītā! Rāma’s mission is incomplete, the king’s orders have not been fulfilled and now this calamity has come upon us from who knows where! We have all heard what Jaṭāyu, the king of the vultures, did for Sītā’s sake. Even the lower orders of beings will do anything for Rāma. They are even prepared to sacrifice their lives for him as we are doing now!
‘Jaṭāyu was lucky to have been killed by Rāvaṇa in battle. He does not have to live in fear of Sugrīva and he has gone straight to heaven! The deaths of Daśaratha and Jaṭāyu as well as the abduction of Sītā have brought the monkeys to this terrible pass! Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa living in the forest with Sītā, Rāma’s killing of Vālī by a single arrow, the massacre of the rākṣasas because they earned Rāma’s wrath, these are the unhappy consequences of the boons given to Kaikeyī!’
Sampāti heard what Angada was saying and that sharp-beaked bird spoke in an enormous voice. ‘Who is this that speaks of the death of my brother Jaṭāyu? He was dearer to me than my own life! My mind is disturbed when I hear this! I have heard my brother’s name mentioned after many long years! How come there was a fight in Janasthāna between my brother, who is a vulture, and a rākṣasa? My younger brother was virtuous and brave and worthy
of praise for his many exploits. I want to know how he died, best of monkeys! My brother lived in Janasthāna. How did he become friends with Daśaratha whose eldest son is Rāma, loved by all? My wings were burnt off by the sun so I am unable to move. But I want to get off this mountain, great monkey!’
Though Sampāti seemed feeble and his voice quavered with emotion, the monkeys were still very suspicious because they had heard his earlier words. Despite the fact that the monkeys had decided to die by starvation, they came to the grim conclusion that Sampāti wanted to eat them. ‘If he eats us we will die quickly and go to heaven!’ they thought and that seemed a better prospect.
Angada helped Sampāti down from the mountain and told him how the monkeys had come to be on the shores of the ocean. ‘While we were in the magical cave, the stipulated time period elapsed. We are all subservient to the king of the monkeys and since the time has passed, we fear his anger and are resolved to fast to death. We would not live even if we were to return!’
Sampāti listened sympathetically to the pitiful tale from the monkeys who were ready to die. ‘Jaṭāyu was my younger brother and now you tell me that he was killed by a rākṣasa who was stronger than him,’ he said, choking on his tears. ‘I am old and wingless now, so I must bear this insult. I no longer have the strength to avenge the death of my brother!
‘In the old days, when Vṛtra had been killed,* my brother and I were racing each other and we flew up to the sun. Higher and higher we flew, faster and faster, in spirals. When the sun had reached the middle of the sky, Jaṭāyu grew tired. I saw that he was almost fainting from the heat, so I spread my wings over him and shielded him. My wings were burnt off and I fell here, on top of the Vindhya mountain. I have lived here since then but I have had no news of my brother.’
‘If you are Jaṭāyu’s brother,’ said young Angada, ‘and if you have been listening to what I was saying, then you must tell us where that rākṣasa lives! Tell us, does that foolish, short-sighted Rāvaṇa live close by or far away? You must tell us if you know!’
The mighty old bird’s words gave the monkeys hope. ‘I am old and wingless now and I have lost all my strength,’ he said, ‘but I shall do my best to help Rāma with my words!
‘I know the worlds ruled by Varuṇa. I know which ones belong to the striding Viṣṇu. I have witnessed the war between the gods and the asuras and I have seen the churning of the ocean of milk for nectar. Helping Rāma should be my first priority, but age has sapped my powers and I am worn out!
‘I saw a beautiful young woman, adorned with jewels, being carried away by the wicked rākṣasa Rāvaṇa. She cried “Rāma! Rāma! Lakṣmaṇa!” as she writhed in his arms and tore the jewels from her body. Her fine silken garments shone like a sunbeam on a mountain or lightning against a dark cloud as she was held in the rākṣasa’s dark arms. I assumed she was Sītā because she cried out to Rāma over and over again. Listen and I will tell you where that wicked rākṣasa lives!
‘Rāvaṇa is the son of Viśravas and the brother of Kubera. He rules over the city of Lankā. The city was built by Viśvakarmā and it is situated on an island in the middle of the ocean, one hundred yojanās from here. That is where the distraught Sītā in her fine silken garments has been taken. She lives in his inner apartments, guarded by rākṣasīs, pathetic and weeping.
‘You will find the princess in that city which is surrounded on all sides by the sea. Use your strength and go there. I am certain that you will find her in Lankā. I can see Rāvaṇa and Sītā very clearly from here with the divine eyes that all vultures have. This natural gift allows us to see things that are far away, even one hundred yojanās away!
‘Think of some way to get across the salty seas. You are bound to find Sītā and you can return, your mission accomplished. Now take me to the shores of the ocean so that I can perform the last rites for my brother who has already gone to heaven!’
The powerful monkeys carried the wingless Sampāti to the shore and then brought him back, delighted at having received some news of Sītā.
The monkeys assembled and shouted with joy as they returned to the sea shore in great spirits, eager to see Sītā. They camped on the northern shore and gazed at the ocean which seemed to mirror the entire world. The sight of the immense ocean with its huge and fantastic creatures frolicking in its rolling waves disturbed them. In some places, the ocean seemed to be asleep, in others, it seemed playful, and in still others, its waves rose up as high as a mountain. It seemed filled with fierce dānavas from the underworld, frightful enough to make the hair stand on end, and it filled the monkeys with despair. They stared miserably at the ocean which was as vast as the sky and they said to one another, ‘What shall we do now?’
Angada saw that the vast monkey army was stricken with terror. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘Despair is your worst enemy and can kill a man as easily as a snake can kill a sleeping child. He who is despondent when the situation calls for courage will never achieve his ends!’
When the night had passed, Angada consulted the elders and veterans. Surrounded by his army of monkeys, he looked like Indra surrounded by the māruts. There was no one there apart from Angada and Hanumān who could keep that: mighty force in order. Angada took the permission of his elders and addressed the monkeys.
‘Who has the power to leap over the ocean and keep Sugrīva’s promise? Which of you heroic monkeys can leap one hundred yojanās and relieve the others of their fear? Whose prowess will enable us to return in happiness and see our wives and our children and our homes again? Whose strength will allow us to return joyfully to Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa and Sugrīva? If there is anyone here who can do this, then let him speak up quickly and release us from our fear!’
Angada’s words were greeted with total silence as the monkey army stood there petrified. Angada spoke again. ‘You are all strong and brave and extremely powerful. You are well born and have been honoured for your exploits. None of you has ever been stopped by an obstacle. Come forward now and declare how strong you really are, best of monkeys!’
The monkeys responded enthusiastically. Gaja said ‘I can leap ten yojanās!’ and Gavākṣa said he could leap twenty. Gavaya told the others that he could leap thirty, Śarabha announced that he could definitely cover forty. And then the mighty Gandhamādana said that he could leap fifty yojanās. Mainda said that he could leap at least sixty and Dvivida declared that he could reach seventy. Suṣeṇa said that he could almost certainly leap eighty yojanās.
Then the oldest of them all, Jāmbavān spoke up. ‘In the old days, I, too, was swift and strong. But now I am almost at the end of my life. But given the situation, I cannot be indifferent to the task at hand which means so much to Rāma and the king of the monkeys. Despite the changes that time has wrought, let me tell you that I can still leap ninety yojanās.
‘This was not all that I could do in the past,’ he continued. ‘When Viṣṇu took his three strides to cover the earth, I was able to circumambulate him! Now I am old and my capacities to leap are greatly reduced. But in my younger days, I was unrivalled! I think all I can do now is ninety yojanās. But our task is not going to be accomplished by speed and power alone!’
‘I can cover this huge distance of one hundred yojanās but I am not sure if I will be able to come back,’ said Angada, displaying his magnanimity.
‘We know your speed and power, best of all monkeys!’ said Jāmbavān who knew the right words for every situation. ‘You could probably leap one hundred or even one thousand yojanās and return with ease. But my child, as the leader of our expedition, you should not go yourself. Send others out for we are all here to do your bidding. You have been appointed leader of this force and we must ensure your safety. We must look after you as we would our own wives. You are the primary force behind the successful completion of this mission with your skills, intelligence, courage and energy. Besides that, you are the son of our master and we can only follow your lead!’
‘If I must not go and
no one else can go, then we have no choice but to fast till we die!’ replied Angada. ‘I do not know how we will save our lives if we do not fulfil Sugrīva’s wishes, even if we do go back! He is our master and he can do whatever he wants, in anger and in joy. If we go back unsuccessful, our destruction is guaranteed!. You are wise. Consider the matter carefully and tell us how we can achieve our ends!’
‘This task which is so important to you will not fail! Let me persuade the only one who is capable of making it succeed!’ said Jāmbavān. He set about trying to urge the heroic Hanumān, the very best of all the monkeys, who was sitting happily by himself.
Jāmbavān called upon Hanumān because he saw that the monkey troops, which consisted of many thousands, were very depressed. ‘Hero among monkeys, so learned in all the traditional texts, you sit alone and in silence. Why do you not speak, Hanumān?
‘You are Sugrīva’s equal and you are like Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa in splendour and strength. Garuḍa is the foremost of all the winged creatures and I have often seen that mighty one carrying off snakes from the ocean. The strength of your arms is like the strength of his wings. Neither his strength nor his speed surpass yours. Best of monkeys, strength, intelligence, splendour and a commitment to truth make you special among all beings. Awake to yourself!
‘Punjikasthalā was the best of the apsarases but she was better known as Añjanā, the wife of the monkey Kesari. She became a monkey because of a curse and was born as the daughter of Kunjara, king of the monkeys. But she was able to change her shape at will. Even in her monkey form she was exquisitely beautiful with well-formed limbs, and sometimes she took on the form of a young and lovely young woman.
‘One day, adorned with garlands and dressed in fine silks, she wandered alone on top of a mountain. As the large-eyed woman stood there, her yellow cloth edged with red was gently pulled away by Vāyu, the wind god. He saw her well-rounded thighs, her slim waist, her large breasts and her lovely face. Vāyu embraced that blameless woman in his strong arms and lost himself, desire overpowering his limbs.
