The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  ‘It not right nor is it sanctioned by the rules of conduct that this monkey be killed. It is also unworthy of you to do such a thing. There is no doubt that this creature is a mighty enemy and that he has caused enormous problems, but the wise ruler would never think of killing a messenger. There are many other punishments that can be inflicted upon him instead. You can disfigure him or whip him or shave his head or even brand him. But I have never heard of anyone killing a messenger.

  ‘How can someone like you, whose intelligence is modulated by righteousness, who knows the past, the present and the future, who is so resolute and determined, how can you be overpowered by rage? The truly virtuous never succumb to their anger. You are the foremost among the gods and the asuras, you are unrivalled in your knowledge of dharma, in your modes of conduct and your understanding of the traditional texts.

  ‘I see no point in killing this monkey. Death should be reserved for those who sent him here. A messenger who speaks on behalf of others does not deserve to die. Good or bad depends on his masters. Even if we were to kill him, I cannot think of any other flying creature who could cross the ocean. Do not waste your time on this creature. Put your energies into planning a battle against Indra and the gods.

  ‘You love a fight, but if you kill this messenger, I can think of no one else who could incite those two princes to come here. They are already deterred by the long and arduous journey to Lankā. You are so powerful and cannot be defeated even by the gods and the asuras. You should not deprive the rākṣasas of another opportunity to go to war! Your hundreds of thousands of warriors are the best and you have kept them contented and happy. They are nobly born, virtuous and intelligent and they are armed with the best of weapons. Let a few of them go out and capture those foolish princes so that the enemy becomes aware of your power!’

  Ten-headed Rāvaṇa listened carefully to his brother’s intelligent advice. ‘I agree with you,’ he said. ‘Killing a messenger is reprehensible. We must punish him in some other way. A monkey’s tail is the most prized part of his body. Set his tail on fire and release him! His friends and well-wishers will see him, pathetic and miserable because his precious tail has been disfigured!’

  Rāvaṇa ordered the rākṣasas to set fire to Hanumān’s tail and lead him through the streets of Lankā. The rākṣasas wrapped the monkey’s tail in strips of cotton and Hanumān grew in size like a forest fire fed with faggots. The rākṣasas drenched the cotton strips in oil and lit them. Hanumān’s face grew as red as the rising sun with anger and impatience and he attacked the rākṣasas with his burning tail. The cruel rākṣasas bound him even more tightly, so Hanumān reconsidered his situation carefully.

  ‘Even though I have been tied up, the rākṣasas cannot prevent me from breaking these bonds. I can create even more havoc if I run amongst them. I can defeat them all in battle! But I must tolerate this for Rāma’s sake.

  ‘I must spy on Lankā again at dawn. I could not examine its fortifications properly last night. Even though rākṣasas torture me by tying up my tail and setting fire to it, my mind is calm!’

  The rākṣasas grabbed the shining monkey and went out with great joy. They blew conches and trumpets and boasted about their exploits as they led him through the city. Hanumān observed everything around him as he was taken through Lankā. He saw the beautiful mansions and towers and highways and streets while the rākṣasas declared that he was a spy.

  When Hanumān’s tail was set alight, the hideous rākṣasis ran to Sītā to give her the unpleasant news. ‘Sītā, that red-faced monkey who spoke to you is being led around the city with his tail on fire!’ they shouted.

  Sītā thought of her own abduction when she heard their cruel words and she was distraught with grief. She wished the best for the monkey, so she collected herself and called upon the god of fire. ‘If I have been a devoted and chaste, wife, if I have performed austerities and been loyal, be cool for Hanumān!’ she pleaded. ‘If you have any compassion for me and if I have any good fortune left, be cool for Hanumān! If noble Sugrīva is going to keep his word and rescue me from this misery, be cool for Hanumān! If righteous Rāma knows that I have been virtuous and that I yearn to be with him again, be cool for Hanumān!’

  The blazing fire turned its flames to the right as if in deference to her wishes, indicating to the large-eyed woman that the monkey would not be harmed.

  Even as his tail was burning, Hanumān thought, ‘This fire is blazing! How come it does not consume me completely? I can see the huge flame but I do not feel the heat! It is as if winter has fallen upon my tail. It must be yet another miracle because of Rāma’s power. When I was crossing the ocean, didn’t a mountain rise up out of the waters? If the ocean and Mainaka could do this, so can fire! I am sure the fire does not burn me because of his friendship with my father the wind, because of Rāma’s majesty and because of Sītā’s virtue!’

  Hanumān leapt forward and roared fiercely. He reached the gates of the city which were as high as mountain peaks. He expanded himself till he was the size of a mountain and then contracted himself as much as he could and slipped out of the bonds that held him. Once he was free, he grew again and picked up a club that he saw lying near the gate. He used it to kill the guards stationed there and then turned towards Lankā, his burning tail forming a circle around him like the aureole around the rising sun.

  Fired with enthusiasm, Hanumān thought about what he could do next. ‘How can I torment the rākṣasas even more?’ he wondered. ‘The aśoka grove has been uprooted, cruel rākṣasas have been killed, a part of the army has been slain. Only the fortifications remain to be destroyed! Once that has been done, the rest will be easy and my efforts will bear fruit. I should feed this kindly fire that burns my tail with an offering of these buildings!’

  With his tail blazing, the monkey looked like a rain cloud streaked with lightning as he ran along the roofs of Lankā and set off a conflagration that was like the doomsday fire. Because of its intimacy with the wind, the fire grew larger and larger as it moved from house to house. Beautiful palaces with their windows of gold studded with pearls collapsed like the mansions of the siddhas that fall to the earth when their merit has been used up in heaven. Hanumān saw rivers of precious metals mixed with diamonds and pearls and coral and silver flowing out from the burning mansions.

  As fire is not satisfied with wood and straw, so, too, Hanumān was not satisfied with the destruction he had wrought among the rākṣasas. Conquered by Hanumān’s anger, Lankā was as if under a curse, her warriors routed, her heroes dead, surrounded by flames. Hanumān watched as the rākṣasas were tormented by the blaze as Brahmā watches the earth cursed by his anger.

  Now that Hanumān had killed countless rākṣasas, destroyed the aśoka grove and set fire to the mansions, his thoughts turned to Rāma. He extinguished the fire on his tail by plunging it into the ocean.

  As he watched the city burn, a terrible thought entered his mind and he was disgusted with himself. ‘What have I done by setting fire to Lankā?’ he thought fearfully. ‘Those who are restrained by their intelligence are fortunate indeed, for they can repress the anger that rises within them like water can extinguish fire. If Sītā has been burned along with Lankā then I have ruined my master’s plans because of my ignorance. I did not protect Sītā before I set fire to Lankā. The very person for whom this enterprise was undertaken has been destroyed! No doubt what I did was simple enough, but because I was overcome with anger, I have cut at the very root of our goal.

  ‘The whole city is in ashes. There does not appear to be a single part that has not been burned. I am sure Sītā is dead! Now that I have ruined everything because of my perverted intelligence, I find the thought of killing myself very attractive. Should I jump into the fire? Or into water? Or offer my body as food to the creatures that live in the ocean? Now that I have wrecked everything, I cannot bear to stay alive and face the king of the monkeys and the two princes!

  ‘I have proved my mon
key nature to the three worlds because I succumbed to anger. I curse the fact that I could not restrain myself. Even though I was capable of protecting Sītā, I did not do so because of my lack of control.

  ‘When Sītā dies, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa will die and when they die, so will Sugrīva and his family. When Bharata and righteous Śatrughna hear about this, their love for their brother will not allow them to go on living. When the Ikṣvāku dynasty perishes, their subjects will be overcome with grief. I am the unfortunate creature who has not only destroyed his personal store of merit by this lack of control but has also led to the destruction of the world!’

  Hanumān continued to worry in this fashion and then he recalled the auspicious omens he had seen earlier. ‘Could it be that the beautiful woman is protected by her own merit? Fire cannot burn fire. A virtuous woman cannot be destroyed. Fire dare not touch this woman who is protected by her own virtue and who is the wife of the effulgent and righteous Rāma. In fact, it is because of Rāma’s power and Sītā’s virtue that the fire did not burn me either. If he did not burn my tail, how could he consume this noble woman? Sītā can burn the fire because of her devotion to her husband, her asceticism and her wisdom!’

  Hanumān felt much better when he thought about Sītā’s store of merit, and then he heard the cāraṇas speaking from the sky. ‘Hanumān has done the impossible by spreading this fierce fire amongst the rākṣasas’ mansions! Lankā burns along with its highways and gates and towers but Sītā remains unharmed! What a wondrous thing this is!’

  Hanumān was relieved when he heard what they said and now, having accomplished his mission, he decided to see Sītā once again. He greeted Sītā who was sitting under the śimśupa tree and said, ‘I am delighted to see that you are not injured!’

  Sītā gazed up at him as he stood there and repeated the loving messages for her husband. ‘I know you are capable of doing all this single-handed. But it would be more appropriate if Rāma were to wreak havoc in Lankā and take me way from here himself. You have to create the conditions for Rāma to display his prowess in conformity with the kṣatriya code!’ she said to the monkey.

  Hanumān reassured her again that Rāma and his army would soon be there and that her suffering would end. Then, eager to see his master, he climbed to the top of Mount Arista, spurred on by the thought that he would see Rāma again soon.

  The rocks on the mountain were crushed under Hanumān’s feet and they broke to pieces with a crash. Hanumān grew in size as he prepared to cross over to the northern shore of the ocean which teemed with fish and sea monsters. The son of the Wind leapt into the sky and as he did so, the mountain was smashed. Its trees were uprooted, its inhabitants cried out in pain, its peaks trembled as it shattered, as if struck by Indra’s thunderbolt. The roar of the mighty lions that lived in its caves pierced the sky, vidyādharas fled with their clothes and ornaments in disarray and enormous serpents whose tongues blazed moved away from the area. Kinnaras, nāgas, yakṣas and gandharvas left the mountain and took refuge in the sky as the mountain was smashed and entered the underworld. Ten yojanās wide and thirty yojanās high, the great mountain was entirely levelled.

  Chapter Nine

  Hanumān flew over the ocean swiftly, like an arrow released from a bow. He saw Mount Mahendra on the northern shore, large as a cloud, and he roared with delight.

  The other monkeys were anxious to see their friend again and were thrilled when they heard his roar. ‘I am sure Hanumān has accomplished his mission,’ said Jāmbavān. ‘Otherwise, he would not roar like this!’ The monkeys ran here and there, leaping from rock to rock and peak to peak in their eagerness to see Hanumān. They grabbed flowering branches and waved them like bright flags. They saw Hanumān looming in the distance like a huge cloud and they all stood together, their palms joined in reverence.

  Hanumān landed on mighty Mount Mahendra and at once all the monkeys surrounded him, their faces shining with joy. They brought him roots and fruits and honoured him as they sang and danced and played with huge trees, making a great commotion.

  Hanumān honoured the elders and teachers, Jāmbavān and prince Angada and returned the greetings of the monkeys. ‘I have seen her!’ he announced briefly.

  He took Angada’s hand and sat down among the pleasant woods of Mount Mahendra. Then Hanumān addressed the brave monkeys. ‘I saw Janaka’s daughter in the aśoka grove!’ he said. ‘That blameless woman is guarded by fearsome rākṣasīs. She sits there, the poor child, with a single braid, longing for a sight of Rāma. Weak with fasting, she is emaciated and dirty.’

  The moment the monkeys heard Hanumān say the words ‘I have seen her’ which were as sweet as nectar, they were overcome with emotion. Some ululated, some roared and others roared back. They shouted and cried in their delirious joy. They raised their tails and waved them, they leapt on and off the mountain peaks and they caressed Hanumān who was as large as an elephant.

  ‘O monkey, none can equal you in valour and purity. You have leaped over the boundless ocean and returned,’ said Angada. ‘It is our good fortune that you saw Sītā. Now Rāma can give up the grief he endures because he is separated from her!’

  The monkeys formed a circle around Hanumān, Angada and Jāmbavān, bringing rocks to sit upon. They were anxious to hear all the details about Hanumān’s leap over the ocean, about Lankā and his meeting with Sītā and Rāvaṇa. They sat facing Hanumān, their palms joined in respect. Angada sat in the centre of innumerable monkeys, as splendid as Indra in heaven and the mountain peak blazed with the glory of Hanumān and Angada.

  ‘How did you see ‘Sītā? What happened there?’ asked Jāmbavān. ‘How does cruel Rāvaṇa treat her? Tell us everything so that we can decide what to do next. What can we reasonably expect when we return and what should we conceal?’

  Hanumān bowed his head to Sītā and started the tale of his adventures.

  ‘In front of all of you, I leapt from the mountain into the sky. I concentrated all my energies on reaching the southern shore of the ocean. As I went along, I saw a huge obstacle. It was an enormous mountain with a man standing on its peak. I was sure I had to break it and I touched it with my tail so that the peak shattered into a thousand pieces. Then the mountain called me ‘son’ and spoke to me in a sweet voice that gladdened my heart. He told me that he was Mainaka and a good friend of my father’s. He also wanted to help Rāma in his enterprise because Rāma is foremost among the righteous and equal to Indra in valour.

  ‘He let me go onwards and I travelled a great distance. Then I saw Surasā, the mother of the snakes. She stood up in the middle of the ocean and said that I had been sent to her as food, that I had to pass through her mouth. I told her Rāma’s story and that I was going as his messenger to find Sītā. But she was not convinced and so I expanded and forced her to open her mouth very wide. Then I contracted my body, became as small as a thumb, and flew through her mouth. She blessed my journey and wished me good luck with my mission and all the celestial beings praised me from the sky.

  ‘As I went further, I felt something grab my shadow but I could see no one. I was very disturbed and when I looked down, I saw a huge rākṣasī lying in the water. She laughed and said that she was going to eat me, but I expanded in size and then ripped out her heart. She collapsed into the sea like a mountain and I heard the siddhas praising me for killing Simhikā.

  ‘I recalled the urgency of my mission and kept going until I saw the southern shore of the ocean, where the city of Lankā is located among the mountains. When the sun set, I entered the city of the rākṣasas without being seen. I spent the entire night looking for Sītā but I could not find her even in Rāvaṇa’s inner apartments. I was very depressed and was wondering what to do, when I saw a beautiful grove of trees surrounded by a golden wall.

  ‘I jumped over the wall and in the middle of the grove, I saw a śimśupa tree. Near it was a beautiful woman with eyes like lotus petals, emaciated and thin from not eating. She was surrounded by ugl
y and deformed rākṣasīs, eaters of flesh and blood, as a doe is surrounded by tigers. I knew she was Rāma’s virtuous wife and I stayed there, watching her.

  ‘I heard a huge commotion coming from Rāvaṇa’s mansion and it was mixed with the tinkling of girdles and anklets. Apprehensive, I hid myself in the dense tree like a bird. Mighty Rāvaṇa and his women arrived and came up to Sītā. She saw the king of the rākṣasas and was so frightened that she pressed her thighs together and covered her breasts. Rāvaṇa told her that if she did not accept him he would drink her blood in two months time. Sītā scolded him angrily, berating him for carrying her away while Rāma was absent. She told him that she would never accept him as her husband.

  ‘Rāvaṇa blazed with a sudden rage, like a fire is fed with wood. He rolled his eyes and made as if to hit her with his fist but the lovely Mandodarī, his wife, stepped forward from among the women and distracted her lustful husband. He was led away to his own apartments. When he left, the ugly rākṣasīs began to torment Sītā, taunting her with their cruel words. But she was unmoved and finally, they were discouraged and fell asleep.

  ‘Sītā began to cry piteously and I had to think of some way to talk to her. I began to praise the clan of the Ikṣvākus and she asked me who I was, who had sent me and how I had got there. I told her about Rāma’s alliance with my master, Sugrīva, the king of the monkeys and that I was Rāma’s messenger. I gave her the signet ring Rāma had sent for her. I asked her what she wanted me to do and she replied that she wanted Rāma to take her away after he had destroyed Rāvaṇa. She told me to tell Rāma about her condition so that he would come to Lankā as soon as he could, for she had only two months to live.