Ramayana. Sita found 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 Angada, son of Vali, could cross over a hundred, but his power would not avail for the return. Then Jambavban, a noble monkey, addressed Hanuman, and recalled his birth and origin, how the wind-god had begotten him and his mother Anjana had borne 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 toward it; how Indra had cast a bolt at him, breaking his jaw; how the wind-god in anger began to destroy the heavens and earth, till Brahma pacified him and granted him the boon that his son should be invulnerable, and Indra gave him the boon of choosing his own death. "And do thou, heroic monkey, prove thy prowess now and bound across the ocean," he said, "for we look on thee as our champion, and thou dost 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, and praying to the sun, to the mountain wind, to the Self-create 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 upward by his impetus and fell back again behind him. He hurtled through the air like a mountain, his flashing eyes like forest fires, his lifted tail like Sakra's banner. So Hanuman held his way across the ocean. Nor, when the friendly ocean lifted up Mounta Mainaka, well wooded and full of fruits and roots, would Hanuman stay to rest, but, rising up, coursed through the air like Garuda himself. Then a grim rakshasi named Sinhikha 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 little 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, the handiwork of Vishvakarman. 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. Now Lanka seemed to him like a woman, having for robe the sea, for jewels cow-pens and stables, her breasts the towers upon her walls; and behold, as he entered in, she met him in a terrible shape and barred his way. Then Hanuman struck her down, though gently, considering her a woman, and she yielded to him, and bade him accomplish his affair. Hanuman made his way to the palace of Ravana, towering on the mountain-top, girt with a wall and moat. By now the moon was full and high, sailing like a swan across the skyey sea, and Hanuman beheld the dwellers in the palace, some drinking, some engaged in amorous dalliance, some sorry and some glad, some drinking, some eating, some making music, and some sleeping. Many a fair bride lay there 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 cars 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 the 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. Some, wearied with pleasure, slept where they sat; one clasped her lute like an amorous girl embracing her lover; another fair one, skilled in the dance, made graceful gestures even in her sleep; others embraced each other. There, too, was Mandodari, Ravana's queen, exceeding all others 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 wil have been in vain. And what will Sugriva say, and the sons of Dasharatha, and the monkey host? Surely Rama and Lakshman will die of grief, and after them Bharata, and then Satrughna, and then the queen-mothers, and seeing that, Sugriva, Rama's friend, will die too, and the monkey-queens, and Angada, and all the monkey race! 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 and Sita, to Shiva, to Indra 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 rakshasis, like a deer among the dogs or a shining flame obscured by 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 yet sat hidden on the tree, Ravana had waked, and that lordly rakshasa came with a great train of women to the Asoka wood. They followed their heroic husband like lightnings following a cloud, and Hanuman heard the sound of their tinkling anklets as they passed across the golden pavements.
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 Angada, son of Vali, could cross over a hundred, but his power would not avail for the return. Then Jambavban, a noble monkey, addressed Hanuman, and recalled his birth and origin, how the wind-god had begotten him and his mother Anjana had borne 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 toward it; how Indra had cast a bolt at him, breaking his jaw; how the wind-god in anger began to destroy the heavens and earth, till Brahma pacified him and granted him the boon that his son should be invulnerable, and Indra gave him the boon of choosing his own death. "And do thou, heroic monkey, prove thy prowess now and bound across the ocean," he said, "for we look on thee as our champion, and thou dost 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, and praying to the sun, to the mountain wind, to the Self-create 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 upward by his impetus and fell back again behind him. He hurtled through the air like a mountain, his flashing eyes like forest fires, his lifted tail like Sakra's banner. So Hanuman held his way across the ocean. Nor, when the friendly ocean lifted up Mounta Mainaka, well wooded and full of fruits and roots, would Hanuman stay to rest, but, rising up, coursed through the air like Garuda himself. Then a grim rakshasi named Sinhikha 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 little 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, the handiwork of Vishvakarman. 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. Now Lanka seemed to him like a woman, having for robe the sea, for jewels cow-pens and stables, her breasts the towers upon her walls; and behold, as he entered in, she met him in a terrible shape and barred his way. Then Hanuman struck her down, though gently, considering her a woman, and she yielded to him, and bade him accomplish his affair. Hanuman made his way to the palace of Ravana, towering on the mountain-top, girt with a wall and moat. By now the moon was full and high, sailing like a swan across the skyey sea, and Hanuman beheld the dwellers in the palace, some drinking, some engaged in amorous dalliance, some sorry and some glad, some drinking, some eating, some making music, and some sleeping. Many a fair bride lay there 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 cars 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 the 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. Some, wearied with pleasure, slept where they sat; one clasped her lute like an amorous girl embracing her lover; another fair one, skilled in the dance, made graceful gestures even in her sleep; others embraced each other. There, too, was Mandodari, Ravana's queen, exceeding all others 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 wil have been in vain. And what will Sugriva say, and the sons of Dasharatha, and the monkey host? Surely Rama and Lakshman will die of grief, and after them Bharata, and then Satrughna, and then the queen-mothers, and seeing that, Sugriva, Rama's friend, will die too, and the monkey-queens, and Angada, and all the monkey race! 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 and Sita, to Shiva, to Indra 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 rakshasis, like a deer among the dogs or a shining flame obscured by 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 yet sat hidden on the tree, Ravana had waked, and that lordly rakshasa came with a great train of women to the Asoka wood. They followed their heroic husband like lightnings following a cloud, and Hanuman heard the sound of their tinkling anklets as they passed across the golden pavements.
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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 Angada, son of Vali, could cross over a hundred, but his power would not avail for the return. Then Jambavban, a noble monkey, addressed Hanuman, and recalled his birth and origin, how the wind-god had begotten him and his mother Anjana had borne 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 toward it; how Indra had cast a bolt at him, breaking his jaw; how the wind-god in anger began to destroy the heavens and earth, till Brahma pacified him and granted him the boon that his son should be invulnerable, and Indra gave him the boon of choosing his own death. "And do thou, heroic monkey, prove thy prowess now and bound across the ocean," he said, "for we look on thee as our champion, and thou dost 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, and praying to the sun, to the mountain wind, to the Self-create 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 upward by his impetus and fell back again behind him. He hurtled through the air like a mountain, his flashing eyes like forest fires, his lifted tail like Sakra's banner. So Hanuman held his way across the ocean. Nor, when the friendly ocean lifted up Mounta Mainaka, well wooded and full of fruits and roots, would Hanuman stay to rest, but, rising up, coursed through the air like Garuda himself. Then a grim rakshasi named Sinhikha 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 little 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, the handiwork of Vishvakarman. 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. Now Lanka seemed to him like a woman, having for robe the sea, for jewels cow-pens and stables, her breasts the towers upon her walls; and behold, as he entered in, she met him in a terrible shape and barred his way. Then Hanuman struck her down, though gently, considering her a woman, and she yielded to him, and bade him accomplish his affair. Hanuman made his way to the palace of Ravana, towering on the mountain-top, girt with a wall and moat. By now the moon was full and high, sailing like a swan across the skyey sea, and Hanuman beheld the dwellers in the palace, some drinking, some engaged in amorous dalliance, some sorry and some glad, some drinking, some eating, some making music, and some sleeping. Many a fair bride lay there 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 cars 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 the 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. Some, wearied with pleasure, slept where they sat; one clasped her lute like an amorous girl embracing her lover; another fair one, skilled in the dance, made graceful gestures even in her sleep; others embraced each other. There, too, was Mandodari, Ravana's queen, exceeding all others 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 wil have been in vain. And what will Sugriva say, and the sons of Dasharatha, and the monkey host? Surely Rama and Lakshman will die of grief, and after them Bharata, and then Satrughna, and then the queen-mothers, and seeing that, Sugriva, Rama's friend, will die too, and the monkey-queens, and Angada, and all the monkey race! 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 and Sita, to Shiva, to Indra 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 rakshasis, like a deer among the dogs or a shining flame obscured by 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 yet sat hidden on the tree, Ravana had waked, and that lordly rakshasa came with a great train of women to the Asoka wood. They followed their heroic husband like lightnings following a cloud, and Hanuman heard the sound of their tinkling anklets as they passed across the golden pavements.
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