The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  ‘Climb onto my back, lovely one. Have no fear or suspicion! Climb onto my back and I shall carry you over the ocean! No one from here will be able to follow us as I leap over the ocean with you. I can return the same way that I arrived here!’

  Sītā was thrilled with Hanumān’s words but she said, ‘Why do you wish to carry me such a long distance? This idea betrays your essential monkey nature! Bull among monkeys, how can you do this with your little body? You wish to carry me over the ocean to my husband who is like the king of the gods!’

  Hanumān, son of the Wind, was deeply insulted. ‘This woman clearly has no idea of my strength or of my true nature,’ he thought to himself. ‘Let her see the form I can take whenever I choose!’ And Hanumān, the best of monkeys, the subduer of his foes, showed himself to Sītā in his true form. He jumped down from the tree and began to expand himself to inspire confidence in Sītā. He became as large as the mountains Meru and Mandara and his body blazed like fire. He stood in front of Sītā with his coppery face, his nails and teeth as hard and bright as diamonds.

  ‘I have the capacity to carry off the whole of Lankā with its king, its forests, mountains and its massive gates!’ he cried. ‘Do not fret! Do not hesitate! Come with me and dispel Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa’s grief!’

  ‘Great monkey, I am aware of your strength,’ said Sītā gently to the gigantic son of the Wind. ‘Your speed is as awesome as the wind’s and your splendour is like the fire’s! How could any ordinary monkey have crossed the boundless ocean and reached this place? I know you have the strength to take me away from here, but we must think carefully for the success of this enterprise.

  ‘It is not right for me to go with you. You move with the speed of the wind, it might make me faint in terror. I might fall from your back as you cross the ocean and I would quickly become a meal for the monsters that fill the ocean!

  ‘I cannot come with you. Carrying a woman would place you in great danger. When the vile rākṣasas see you taking me away, Rāvaṇa will order them to follow you. You will be surrounded by these fierce creatures armed with their weapons and you will be in danger all because of me! They will be armed and you shall have no weapons. How will you protect me in the sky?

  ‘ I might fall from your back while you fight the cruel rākṣasas. I might fall when they have somehow managed to defeat you. I might fall when your face is turned the other way. Then, the wicked rākṣasas would catch me as I fell and carry me off! They might grab me from your hands and rip me to bits! Victory and defeat are uncertain in war!

  ‘If I were to die, abused by the rākṣasas, then all your efforts will have been in vain! If you were to return and kill all the rākṣasas, Rāma’s success will be diminished because you have slaughtered them all. When the rākṣasas have captured me, they will throw me away and neither the monkeys nor Rāma will find me. And that, too, would make your efforts fruitless.

  ‘The best thing is for you to come back here with Rāma. The lives of Rāma, his brothers and the royal family lie with me. The two princes, hopeless and consumed with grief because of me, might give up their lives along with all the monkeys and bears.

  ‘I have dedicated myself to serving my husband and I cannot think about touching another man, not even with my foot! When Rāvaṇa carried me away, I was forced to touch his body even though I was a chaste wife. What could I do, I was helpless and unprotected.

  ‘It would be worthy of Rāma to kill Rāvaṇa and all the other rākṣasas and take me away from here. I have seen and heard his great deeds. Not even the gods, the gandharvas or the asuras can rival him in battle! Who would challenge Rāma, who blazes like the fire fanned by the wind, when they see him in battle, armed with his bow and accompanied by Lakṣmaṇa? Who would challenge him when he appears like a rutting guardian elephant, his arrows bright as the sun’s rays at the end of time?

  ‘Ah, monkey! Bring my husband here as soon as you can! Bring Lakṣmaṇa and all the other monkey leaders! I have suffered too long for Rāma’s sake. Now bring me happiness!’

  ‘You have spoken appropriately, in keeping with your nature as a virtuous woman and a devoted wife,’ said Hanumān. ‘It is not right that a woman should cross the ocean on my back. Sītā, the second reason you mentioned, that you would not touch any man other than Rāma, makes you worthy of being honourable Rāma’s wife. Who else but you would speak like this?

  ‘There were many reasons why I spoke the way I did. I was compelled by my affection for Rāma and by a desire to please him. I boasted about my abilities because it is so difficult to cross the ocean and enter Lankā. I wanted to take you away because of my friendship for Rāma. It is my affection for him and my devotion to my elders and masters that made me speak thus.

  ‘But since you cannot come with me, blameless lady, give me a token by which Rāma will know that I have met you.’

  Sītā, who was like a daughter of the gods, replied softly, her voice broken by her tears. ‘The best token that I can give you is this message. Say to my beloved Rāma:

  ‘“Earlier, when we lived on the north-eastern slope of the Citrakūṭa mountain, in the region where the Mandākinī flows, near the settlements of the holy ascetics, the area was filled with flowering trees and beautiful plants. One day, when my body was still wet from my bath, you fell asleep with your head in my lap. A crow carrying a piece of meat in its beak began to attack me and I tried to ward it off with clods of earth. The bird clung to me with its vicious claws and began to tear at the flesh it carried. I was angry with the bird and drew off my girdle. But my clothes slipped off and at that very moment, you woke and saw me. You began to laugh and I was terribly embarrassed. I hid in your arms to get away from the crow and though I was still angry, I was mollified by your laughter. You wiped the tears from my eyes and my face and then, hissing like an angry serpent, you said, ‘Lady with the thighs like an elephant’s trunk, who has dared strike you on the breast?’ You looked around and saw the crow with its bloody claws. But the bird was the best of all creatures that can fly. He was one of Indra’s sons and, with the speed of the wind, he entered the earth. You made a terrible decision. You took a blade of grass and invoked Brahmā’s weapon. The blazing blade flew towards the bird, following him through the air and everywhere as he tried to look for protection. The bird was renounced by his father and by all the holy sages. Finally, when he had travelled through the three worlds, the bird came to you for refuge. You protected him with compassion, even though he deserved death. But you could not recall the weapon once it had been invoked and so you injured the crow’s right eye. The crow thanked you and honoured you and then flew back to its home.

  ‘“Lord of the earth, you would use the Brahmā weapon against a lowly crow for my sake! How can you tolerate my being abducted by another creature? I have heard about your benevolence and your righteousness. Be compassionate to me and let me live in hope! I know you are brave and loyal and strong, as deep as the ocean and equanimous in all situations. You are skilled in the use of all weapons. Why do you not use them against these vile rākṣasas?”’ said Sītā.

  ‘No creature can match Rāma’s skills and strength in battle,’ she continued. ‘If heroic Rāma is still interested in me, why doesn’t he loose his sharp arrows against these awful rākṣasas? Or Lakṣmaṇa, why doesn’t he rescue me on the instructions of his brother? The princes are equal to Indra and Vāyu in splendour and they are invincible even against the gods. Why are they so indifferent to me? I must have done something terribly wrong for them to disregard me like this!

  ‘Kausalyā bore Rāma, the lord of the worlds. On my behalf, bow your head to him and ask after his welfare. And mighty Lakṣmaṇa, broad-chested, good-looking and so protective, who followed his brother into the forest. Lakṣmaṇa respects Rāma as much as he does his parents. He did not know that I was being abducted. Lakṣmaṇa is dearer to Rāma than I am. He is gentle, pure and wise and when Rāma is with him he even forgets his noble father. Honour Lakṣmaṇa for
me.

  ‘Say to my husband again and again, “Son of Daśaratha, I have but one month to live. I swear to you that I will not survive more than that! Come and rescue me from this vile creature!’” Then Sītā pulled out the jewel that she wore in her hair and gave it to Hanumān saying, ‘Give this to Rāma!’ Hanumān took the jewel and bowed to her, placing it on his finger. He was filled with joy at having met Sītā and his thoughts flew at once to Rāma.

  ‘Rāma will recognize this token,’ said Sītā. ‘It will make him remember three people, his mother, me and King Daśaratha. Monkey, you must now make an even greater effort than you did before. But think carefully about the consequences of all that you do. You are the sole authority here. Think about what you can do to end my grief!’

  Realizing that Hanumān was about to leave, Sītā spoke in a voice that was thick with tears. ‘Give my best wishes to Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa and Sugrīva, his ministers, the elders and all the monkeys! Do whatever you must to enable Rāma to rescue me from this ocean of grief! Give Rāma my message and tell him to take me way from here—you will gain much merit if you do! When he hears my words, he will be doubly eager to see me again and will make preparations to attack!’

  ‘Never fear, sweet lady! Rāma will soon be here with the army of monkeys and bears and he will put an end to your suffering,’ said Hanumān with his head bowed. ‘He is eager to subdue the entire earth, girded by the seas, because the victory will be for your sake!’

  Sītā knew that what Hanumān said was true and she watched as he made preparations to depart. ‘If you think it’s all right, will you stay here for another day? You can hide somewhere, rest and leave tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Your presence would lighten my burden of grief for at least a little while! If you leave and return again, my life is in danger. I could not bear the pain of not seeing you and I might die of grief!

  ‘But the biggest doubt before me now is about your allies, the monkeys and bears. How will that army and those two mortal heroes cross the boundless ocean? There are only three creatures who can cross the ocean, you, the wind and Garuḍa! Do you see any means by which this impossible task can be accomplished? You are capable of doing all this by yourself, but then, you would gain the fruits of this success.

  ‘But it would be appropriate if Rāma were to defeat Rāvaṇa and all his armies in war and take me back to his own city, if he were to conquer Lankā and take me away himself. That would be worthy of a hero such as Rāma! You should ensure that Rāma can do all this himself!’

  Hanumān listened to Sītā’s wise and sensible words and replied, ‘Sugrīva leads the army of monkeys and bears. He is intelligent and devoted to your success. Sugrīva will come here with hundreds of thousands of monkeys who are courageous and determined. They are so swift that they can fly up, down and sideways, their energy is so great that they can accomplish great deeds. I am but one among many that are my equals. If I could reach here, they will do so much more easily. The best of beings are never sent as messengers, only the inferior are!

  ‘Do not worry about this. Stop grieving. The monkeys will reach Lankā in a single bound. Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa are like the sun and the moon and soon those heroes will be before you, riding on my back. They will destroy Lankā with their arrows and Rāma will take you back to his own city after he has killed Rāvaṇa and all the rākṣasas! Have courage and wait for that moment! Rāma will stand before you, blazing like fire! Soon, you shall cross over this ocean of grief!’

  Sītā was touched by Hanumān’s comforting words. ‘Seeing you and hearing you speak has cheered me up a lot, like the earth that rejoices when rain comes to almost ripened crops!’ she said gratefully. ‘Have pity on me and make sure that I am reunited as soon as possible with Rāma. I yearn for him so! Remind him of the blade of grass he sent after the crow that put out one of his eyes. Tell him to remember the vermillion he smeared on my cheek when the one on my forehead had been wiped off! How can he, the equal of Indra and Varuna, tolerate the abduction of his wife and her living among the rākṣasas?

  ‘Tell him, “I have treasured and protected this jewel, born from the sea, that I am sending you now. I would look at it and think that I was looking at your face and it would make me happy! I cannot live like this for much longer. For your sake, I have borne the cruel taunts of the rākṣasis which pierced my heart. I will hold on for another month, but after that, I cannot live separated from you, great prince! The king of the rākṣasas is a vile creature and he looks at me with lust in his eyes. If you delay much longer after you have heard about my misery, then I am afraid that I will not survive!’

  Hanumān listened to her miserable words and her weeping. ‘Rāma is terribly upset about your suffering. I swear this is the truth. And Lakṣmaṇa is upset because Rāma is unhappy. I have found you! This is no time for sorrow! Your troubles will be over in no time at all! Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa will reduce Lankā to ashes in their eagerness to see you.

  ‘Give me some other tokens that Rāma will recognize and which will increase his joy,’ said Hanumān.

  ‘But I have already given you the best of them all,’ replied Sītā. ‘He will believe all you say when he sees this jewel from my hair!’

  Hanumān bowed to Sītā and began to expand in size in preparation to leave.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Now that I have seen Sītā, there is very little left for me to do,’ thought Hanumān as he left. ‘There are four ways to approach the enemy. Negotiation is not possible with rākṣasas because of their nature, bribery does not work among the prosperous, and creating dissension among enemy forces is never used by those who take pride in their abilities. Which leaves the use of force—and that makes me very happy!

  ‘He who is appointed to do one thing and manages to do others as well without jeopardizing the task he was sent for is worthy indeed. There is no single approach to anything and the one who understands that his goal has many aspects will definitely be successful. I have finished what I was sent to do but if I return with information about how to crush the enemy, then my master’s aim will truly have been achieved. I should engineer a confrontation with the rākṣasas such that Rāvaṇa has to pit his powers against mine!

  ‘I will consume this beautiful grove, this pleasure garden, as fire consumes a dried forest. That is sure to make Rāvaṇa angry. He will call up his mighty army with its enormous infantry, its chariots, elephants and heavily armed warriors and there will be a huge battle. I will destroy the army and then return to the monkeys with no trouble at all!’

  Hanumān, son of the Wind, called up his terrible energy that was like the storm winds and began to uproot trees with his powerful legs. He wreaked havoc upon the lovely garden with all its trees and creepers, where the trumpeting of rutting elephants could still be heard. Its pools were destroyed, its mountain peaks crushed, its pavilions and vine-covered arbours shattered, its animals and snakes were set free and its palaces and stone huts were totally wrecked.

  Now that he had achieved what he knew would cause great pain to the king of the rākṣasas, Hanumān stood at the gate, blazing with splendour, ready to take on the mighty rākṣasas.

  Lankā’s citizens were disturbed and confused by the shrieking of the birds and the crashing of trees. Animals and birds ran, terrified, in all directions and inauspicious signs for the rākṣasas began to appear.

  The hideous rākṣasīs in the grove woke suddenly, their sleep shattered, and they saw the destruction around them. Then they noticed the enormous monkey who had taken on his gigantic form in order to frighten them.

  ‘Who is this!’ they asked Sītā when they saw Hanumān. ‘Where has he come from? Why is he here? Why did he speak to you? Don’t be frightened, tell us why he spoke to you?’

  ‘How would I know who he is, since rākṣasas can change their form at will?’ said Sītā demurely. ‘You should know who or what he is and what he might do. A snake knows another snake’s tracks! I don’t know who he is. I am too terrified
of him. He must be a rākṣasa that has changed his shape and come here!’

  The räksasis scattered in all directions. Some of them stayed where they were and others went to tell Rāvaṇa about the terrifying monkey in a completely unnatural form.

  ‘There is an enormous monkey in the grove, O king, and he is very powerful. He has had a conversation with Sītā!’ they cried.

  ‘We asked the doe-eyed Sītā about him many times but she refused to talk about him!’

  ‘He may be a messenger from Indra or Kubera! Or maybe he has been sent by Rāma to find out about Sītā!’

  ‘This amazing creature has utterly destroyed your lovely pleasure garden with all its animals!’

  ‘He has destroyed everything there except the place where Sītā sat. Maybe he was tired, or maybe he wanted to protect her.

  ‘A creature like him cannot possibly know fatigue, he must have wanted to protect her!’

  ‘He has destroyed your garden and spoken to Sītā! You must inflict a harsh punishment upon this awful creature!’

  ‘Who would dare speak to Sītā, who has captured your heart, and still preserve his life?’

  Rāvaṇa’s eyes flashed with rage when he heard all this and he blazed like a sacrificial fire. He summoned the kinkaras, who equalled him in their courage, and ordered them to capture Hanumān. Thousands of armed and violent kinkaras emerged from the palace. They were strong and hideous to look at, proud of their fighting skills and eager to capture the monkey. They ran towards the gate where Hanumān stood, like moths to flame, carrying their clubs and maces and their golden bracelets and their arrows shone like the sun.

  Resplendent Hanumān, full of energy and like a mountain in size, flung his tail to the ground with a resounding crash. The kinkaras were filled with trepidation when they heard him roar and when they saw him, looking like a massive evening cloud. Under strict instructions from their master, the kinkaras began to strike Hanumān from all directions with their various weapons. Hanumān grabbed an iron bar from the gate and attacked those warriors who surrounded him on all sides. He killed them all and still willing to fight some more, he went back and stood at the gate.