The Leap Across the Ocean

Then the tamer of foes resolves to seek the track of Sita, carried off by Ravana, along the path the charanas travel. Wanting to do a hard deed no one could rival, the monkey, head and neck raised high, looks like a lordly bull. He moves at ease over the beryl-coloured, water-like meadows of Mahendra, frightening birds, sweeping down trees with his chest, killing many beasts, like a grown lion. The mountain is adorned with natural minerals, blue, red, madder, lotus-coloured, white and black, and peopled by yakshas, kinnaras, gandharvas and nagas. Standing at its foot, the best of monkeys looks like an elephant in a lake. He joins his palms to the Sun, to great Indra, to the Wind, to the Self-born and to all beings, and resolves to go. Facing east, joining his palms to the Wind, his own source, the skilful one grows to go south. Watched by the best of leapers, resolved on the leap, he grows for Rama’s good like the ocean at the full moon. His body grown beyond measure, wanting to leap the ocean, he presses the mountain with his arms and feet. The mountain shakes for a moment and sheds all the flowers of its trees, so that it seems made of flowers. Pressed by that supreme strength, it pours out water like a rutting elephant, and streams of gold, collyrium and silver; it throws out great rocks with red arsenic, like a fire with streaks of smoke. The creatures in its caves cry out with strange voices; great serpents with broad hoods bearing svastika marks spit terrible fire and bite the rocks, which blaze and split into thousands of pieces, and the herbs on the mountain cannot cure their venom. Thinking the mountain is being split by spirits, the ascetic vidyadharas rise in fear with their women, leaving their golden wine cups, costly vessels and golden pitchers, their foods and meats, bull-hide shields and gold-hilted swords; drunk, with garlands on their necks and red unguents, red-eyed, they take to the sky, and their women stand there amazed and smiling beside their lovers. They hear the voices of seers, charanas and siddhas in the clear sky: “This Hanuman, son of the wind, like a mountain, very swift, wants to cross the ocean, home of Varuna. Wishing to do a hard deed for Rama and for the monkeys, he wants to reach the far shore of the ocean, so hard to reach.”

He shakes his hair and trembles like fire, roars like a great cloud, and whirls his round, hairy tail as the king of birds whirls a serpent; trailing behind him it looks like a great snake carried off by Garuda. He braces his arms like iron bars, crouches at the waist and draws in his feet; drawing in his arms and neck, he fills himself with splendour, strength and valour. Looking far down his path with eyes fixed upward, he holds his breath in his heart. Planting his feet firmly and laying back his ears, the mighty one says to the monkeys: “As an arrow released by Raghava goes with the speed of the wind, so I will go to Lanka, ruled by Ravana. If I do not see Janaka’s daughter in Lanka, with this same speed I will go to the home of the gods; and if I do not see Sita in heaven after all my effort, I will bind Ravana, king of the rakshasas, and bring him back. Either way I will come back with my task done, with Sita, or I will tear up Lanka with Ravana and bring it.” And without a second thought he leaps up with great speed, thinking himself like Suparna.

As he flies up, the trees growing on the mountain rise after him with all their branches. Carrying the flowering trees full of maddened koyashtibhaka birds with the force of his thighs, he goes through the clear sky. The trees lifted by his speed follow him for a moment, like kin seeing off a kinsman on a long journey, and then, like an army following its king, the salas and other great trees follow Hanuman. Surrounded by many flowering trees, the mountain-like Hanuman is wonderful to see. The heavier trees sink into the salt water, as the mountains sank into Varuna’s home in fear of great Indra. Strewn with flowers, buds and shoots, he shines like a cloud, like a mountain covered with fireflies. Released by his speed, the trees drop their flowers and fall back into the water like friends turning back. The light, many-coloured flowers fall on the sea, and the ocean looks like the sky strewn with stars. Covered with the fragrant shower of flowers, the monkey shines like a rising cloud adorned with lightning. His outstretched arms in the sky look like two five-headed serpents coming out of a mountain. He seems to be drinking the wave-crowned ocean, and to be thirsting for the sky. His eyes, bright as lightning, shine like two fires on a mountain; his large, round, tawny eyes shine like the moon and the sun. His face with its copper nose is copper-red like the sun’s disc touched by twilight. His raised tail shines in the sky like Indra’s banner; with his circling tail and white teeth he glows like the sun with its halo. His very red hindquarters make him look like a mountain split open to show red ochre. The wind passing under his arms roars like a cloud. Like a meteor with a trail he falls through the sky; stretched out, he shines like a great elephant girt with its belt. His body above and his shadow plunged in the sea make him look like a ship driven by the wind. Wherever he goes over the ocean, the water seems maddened by the force of his body. He strikes the mountain-high waves with his chest; the wind he makes and the wind of the clouds shake the roaring ocean. Dragging the great waves, he seems to scatter heaven and earth; he passes the waves risen like Meru and Mandara as if counting them. The water thrown up by his speed, with the clouds, spreads in the sky like autumn clouds. Whales, crocodiles, fish and tortoises are laid bare like bodies stripped of clothing. Seeing him striding through the sky, the serpents of the sea take him for Suparna. His shadow, ten yojanas wide and thirty long, made lovelier by his speed, falls on the salt water like a line of white clouds following the wind’s son. He shines in the unsupported path of the wind like a winged mountain. The way he goes, the ocean is suddenly hollowed into a trough. Dragging the masses of cloud like the wind, white, red, blue and madder-coloured, entering and leaving the clouds again and again, he is seen hidden and shining like the moon. Gods, gandharvas and charanas rain flowers on him; the sun does not scorch him and the wind serves him, for the success of Rama’s work. Seers praise him as he leaps through the air, and gods and gandharvas sing his praises; nagas, yakshas and many kinds of rakshasas praise the best of monkeys, tireless.

As Hanuman, tiger among leapers, is leaping, the Ocean, wishing to honour the Ikshvaku line, reflects: “If I do not help Hanuman, lord of the monkeys, I will be blamed by all who speak. I was made to grow by Sagara, lord of the Ikshvakus, and this is the Ikshvakus’ minister; he must not grow weary. I must arrange things so that the monkey can rest; rested on me, he will cross the rest with ease.” With this good thought, the Ocean says to Mainaka, best of mountains, with golden centre, hidden in the water: “You were placed here by the great-souled king of the gods as a bar against the hosts of asuras who live in the underworld; you stand blocking the door of the immeasurable underworld against those whose might is known, who would rise again. You have the power to grow sideways, upward and downward, mountain; so I urge you: rise, best of mountains. This mighty tiger among monkeys is passing over you, Hanuman, of terrible deeds, leaping through the sky on Rama’s business. I must help him, follower of the Ikshvaku line; the Ikshvakus are worthy of my honour and still more of yours. Help us, so that our duty is not transgressed; a duty left undone would rouse the anger of the good. Rise above the water; let this monkey stand on you. He is our guest, the best of leapers, worthy of honour. Golden-centred one, frequented by gods and gandharvas, Hanuman will rest on you and then go the rest of the way. Considering Kakutstha’s kindness, Maithili’s exile and the leaper’s fatigue, you should rise.” Hearing the salt sea, golden Mainaka rises quickly out of the water, covered with great trees and creepers. Piercing the ocean’s water, he rises very high, like the sun of blazing rays piercing a cloud. In a moment the great-souled mountain, enjoined by the Ocean, shows his peaks: golden, with kinnaras and great serpents, like the rising sun, as if scratching the sky. With his risen golden peaks the sky, blade-coloured, takes on a golden radiance; with his shining, very radiant golden peaks the best of mountains is like a hundred suns.

Seeing him risen in the middle of the salt water directly in front of him, Hanuman decides, “This is an obstacle.” The very swift great monkey knocks the towering mountain down with his chest, as the wind does a cloud. Struck so by the monkey, the best of mountains, understanding his speed, is delighted and roars. Standing in the sky before the hero in the sky, pleased and glad at heart, the mountain, taking human form and standing on his own peak, says: “Best of monkeys, you have done this hard deed. Come down on my peaks, rest at ease, and go on. The ocean was made to grow by those born in Raghava’s line; the Ocean honours you, devoted to Rama’s good. When a service has been done, it must be repaid; this is eternal dharma. Wishing to repay that, he deserves honour from you; for your sake he urged me with great respect: ‘This monkey has leapt into the sky for a hundred yojanas; let him rest on your ridges and go the rest of the way.’ Stay, tiger among monkeys, rest on me, and then go. Here are many fragrant, sweet bulbs, roots and fruits; taste them, best of monkeys, and go on rested. We too have a bond with you, chief of monkeys, a great one, famed in the three worlds. Of all the swift leapers, son of the wind, I think you the foremost. One who seeks to know dharma knows that even an ordinary guest deserves honour; how much more one like you? You are the son of the great-souled Wind, best of the gods, and equal to him in speed. When you, who know dharma, are honoured, the Wind is honoured; so you are worthy of my honour. And hear the reason. Long ago, in the Krita age, dear one, the mountains had wings; they flew in all directions, swift as Garuda. As they flew, the hosts of gods with the seers, and all beings, feared they would fall. Then the angry thousand-eyed Shatakratu cut off the mountains’ wings with his thunderbolt by hundreds of thousands. The angry king of the gods came at me with his thunderbolt raised; then I was suddenly thrown by the great-souled Wind into this salt water, best of leapers, my wings kept safe and whole, protected by your father. So I honour you; you are worthy of honour to me, son of the Wind. This is my bond with you, chief of monkeys, a great one. In this matter, which concerns the Ocean and me, you should give us joy with a glad heart, very wise one. Throw off your weariness and accept our honour, best of monkeys, and my love; I am delighted to see you.” Told this, the best of monkeys says to the best of mountains: “I am pleased; your hospitality is accepted; let this displeasure be set aside. The time for my task presses, and the day is passing. And I have made a promise not to stop on the way.” Having said this, the bull among monkeys touches the mountain with his hand and goes, entering the sky, as if smiling. Looked on with great respect by the mountain and the Ocean, honoured and greeted with fitting blessings, he rises far up, leaving the mountain and the ocean, and reaching his father’s path goes on in the clear sky. Reaching a still higher course and looking down at the mountain, the son of the Wind goes on without support.

Seeing that second very hard deed of Hanuman’s, all the gods, the siddhas and the supreme seers praise him. The deities there are delighted by his deed, and the thousand-eyed Vasava, lord of Shachi, wise, says himself to golden-centred Sunabha, best of mountains, in a voice choked with joy: “Golden-centred king of mountains, I am greatly pleased with you. I give you freedom from fear; go, gentle one, as you please. You have given great help to Hanuman, crossing a hundred yojanas fearlessly where there was danger, so that he might rest. This monkey goes for the good of Rama, son of Dasharatha; by honouring him as you could, you have pleased me greatly.” The best of mountains is overjoyed to see Shatakratu, lord of the gods, pleased, and, given that boon, stays where he is; and Hanuman in a moment passes beyond that part of the ocean.

Then the gods with the gandharvas, the siddhas and the supreme seers say to Surasa, mother of the nagas, radiant as the sun: “This glorious son of the Wind, named Hanuman, is leaping over the ocean. Put an obstacle in his way for a moment. Take the form of a rakshasi, very terrible, like a mountain, with terrible fangs and tawny eyes, your mouth reaching to the sky. We want to know his strength and his valour again: either he will defeat you by some means or he will be dismayed.” Honoured by the gods and told this, the goddess Surasa, taking a rakshasi’s body, monstrous, deformed and frightening to all, blocks Hanuman’s way in the middle of the ocean and says: “You have been assigned to me as food by the lords, bull among monkeys. I will eat you; enter my mouth. This boon was given to me long ago by the Creator.” Quickly opening her vast mouth, she stands before the son of the Wind. Told this by Surasa, Hanuman, his face bright, says: “Rama, son of Dasharatha, entered the Dandaka forest with his brother Lakshmana and his wife Vaidehi. While he was busy with another task and had made enemies of the rakshasas, his glorious wife Sita was carried off by Ravana. I am going to her as a messenger at Rama’s command. You who live in his realm should help Rama. Or, having seen Maithili and Rama of tireless deeds, I will come to your mouth; I promise you truly.” Told this by Hanuman, Surasa, who takes any form at will, says: “No one may pass me; this is my boon.” Seeing him setting off, Surasa, mother of the nagas, wanting to know Hanuman’s strength, says: “You must enter my mouth today before you go, best of monkeys; this boon was given me long ago by the Creator.” Quickly opening her vast mouth, she stands before him. Told this by Surasa, the bull among monkeys, angry, says: “Then make your mouth big enough to hold me.” Saying this to Surasa in anger, Hanuman becomes ten yojanas long and ten yojanas wide. Seeing him like a cloud, ten yojanas long, Surasa makes her mouth twenty yojanas wide. Hanuman, angry, becomes thirty yojanas; Surasa makes her mouth forty yojanas high. The hero Hanuman grows to fifty yojanas; Surasa makes her mouth sixty. Then the hero Hanuman grows to seventy; Surasa makes her mouth eighty. Hanuman, like fire, grows to ninety; Surasa makes her mouth a hundred yojanas wide. Seeing that gaping mouth, with its long tongue, very terrible, like hell, the wise son of the Wind contracts his body like a cloud and in that moment becomes the size of a thumb. The mighty one enters her mouth and comes out again, and standing in the sky the glorious one says: “I have entered your mouth, daughter of Daksha; homage to you. I will go where Vaidehi is; your boon has come true.” Seeing him released from her mouth like the moon from Rahu’s mouth, the goddess Surasa, in her own form, says to the monkey: “Go, gentle one, best of monkeys, as you please, for the success of your purpose; and reunite Vaidehi with great-souled Raghava.” Seeing that third very hard deed of Hanuman’s, all beings praise the monkey: “Good! Good!”

Reaching the unassailable ocean, home of Varuna, he goes on through the sky with speed like Garuda: the sky frequented by streams of water and by birds, where the masters of music move and Airavata goes; adorned with shining celestial chariots drawn by lions, elephants, tigers, birds and serpents, flying along; bright with fires whose touch is like the thunderbolt; inhabited by the fortunate who have done holy deeds and won heaven; served by the bright-flamed fire who carries the oblations; adorned with planets, constellations, moon, sun and hosts of stars; crowded with hosts of great seers, gandharvas, nagas and yakshas; solitary, clear, wide, frequented by Vishvavasu; trodden by the elephant of the king of the gods; the auspicious path of the moon and sun; the canopy of the living world, spread out by Brahma; often frequented by heroes and surrounded by hosts of vidyadharas. Along the path of the wind goes the son of the Wind, like Garutman, dragging the masses of clouds, black as aloe, red, yellow and white, like the wind; dragged by the monkey, the great clouds shine. Entering and leaving the cloud masses again and again, he looks like the moon in the rainy season; seen everywhere, Hanuman, son of the Wind, occupies the unsupported sky like a winged king of mountains.

Seeing him leaping, a rakshasi named Simhika, huge, able to take any form, thinks to herself: “Today, after a long time, I will eat my fill. This great creature has come into my power after a long while.” Thinking this, she seizes his shadow. As his shadow is seized, the monkey thinks: “I have suddenly been seized, my valour crippled, like a great ship on the ocean against the wind.” Looking sideways, up and down, the monkey sees a great creature risen from the salt water. Seeing her with her monstrous face, the son of the Wind thinks: “This, without doubt, is the creature of wonderful appearance the king of the monkeys described, the very mighty one who seizes shadows.” Recognising her truly as Simhika, the wise monkey grows huge, like a rain-cloud in the monsoon. Seeing the great monkey’s body growing, she opens her mouth like the underworld and the sky, and rushes at the monkey, roaring like a line of clouds. The wise great monkey sees her monstrous, enormous mouth, the size of her body and her vital parts. The monkey, hard as a thunderbolt, contracts himself again and falls into her monstrous mouth. The siddhas and charanas see him sinking into her mouth like the full moon swallowed by Rahu at the turning of the month. Then, tearing out her vital parts with his sharp nails, the monkey springs out with speed, his valour swift as the flight of the mind. Having struck her down by good fortune, steadiness and skill, the self-possessed foremost monkey hero grows again with speed. Her heart torn out by Hanuman, she falls into the water, helpless; Hanuman was created by the Self-born himself for her downfall. Seeing Simhika killed by the monkey and fallen, the beings who move in the sky say to the best of leapers: “You have done a terrible deed today and killed a great creature. Accomplish your purpose unharmed, best of leapers. He who has, as you have, lord of monkeys, these four, steadiness, vision, understanding and skill, does not sink in his tasks.” Honoured by them, who have gained their purpose, the honourable monkey goes on through the sky like the eater of serpents.

Having almost reached the far shore and looking all around, at the end of the hundred yojanas he sees a line of forest. Even as he descends, the best of branch-deer sees the island adorned with many kinds of trees, the groves of Malaya, the ocean, the marshy shores of the ocean and the trees that grow there, and the mouths of the rivers, wives of the ocean. Seeing himself like a great cloud, as if blocking the sky, the wise and self-possessed one thinks: “If the rakshasas see the size of my body and my speed, they will be curious about me.” So he contracts his mountain-like body and returns to his natural form, like a self-possessed man freed from delusion. Shrinking that form, Hanuman stands in his natural state, like Hari who took away Bali’s power after striding his three strides. Taking many lovely forms, having reached the far shore of the ocean, unreachable by others, having taken his form and considered himself and his purpose, the great-souled one, like a great cloud-peak, lands on the rich, many-coloured peak of Mount Lamba, with ketaka, uddalaka and coconut trees. Having reached the ocean shore and seen Lanka on the top of the best of mountains, the monkey alights on that mountain, shaking off his form and frightening the beasts and birds. Having crossed by his strength the ocean full of danavas and serpents, garlanded with great waves, and having landed on the shore of the great ocean, he sees Lanka, like Amaravati.

Press › to begin with verse 1.

ततो रावणनीतायाः सीतायाः शत्रुकर्षणः ।इयेष पदमन्वेष्टुं चारणाचरिते पथि ॥ १ ॥

Then the tamer of foes wished to seek the track of Sita, carried off by Ravana, on the path travelled by the charanas.

The Sundara Kanda, “the beautiful book”, opens with the most celebrated feat in the Ramayana. Hanuman gathers himself on Mahendra so hard that the mountain bleeds minerals and its serpents bite the rocks. Then he springs into the sky, and the trees he uproots follow him “like kin seeing off a kinsman”, before dropping their flowers into the sea, which becomes a sky full of stars. The description of his flight is one of the most sustained pieces of visual poetry in any epic.

The flight brings three trials, each a different kind of test. Mainaka, the mountain who still has his wings because Hanuman’s father the Wind once hid him from Indra, offers rest out of gratitude; Hanuman honours him with a touch but will not stop, because he has promised. Surasa, sent by the gods to test him, blocks his way. He outwits her by growing and then shrinking to the size of a thumb, passing in and out of her mouth so that her boon is satisfied and no one is harmed. Simhika, the shadow-seizing demon Sugriva had warned of, he kills from the inside. Courtesy, cleverness and force: the three are an image of the qualities, “steadiness, vision, understanding and skill” (verse 201), that make Hanuman the ideal servant of Rama.

Sources. Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, sarga 1 (southern recension, Gita Press numbering). Commentary by Vani Darshan, not scripture.