Hanuman Looks at Lanka

Having crossed the unassailable ocean, the mighty one stands at ease on the slope of Trikuta and looks at Lanka. Showered there with flowers dropped by the trees, the valiant monkey looks as if made of flowers. Though he has crossed a hundred yojanas, the glorious monkey of supreme valour does not pant or tire: “I could stride very many hundreds of yojanas; what is the ocean’s breadth, counted at a hundred?” The best of the mighty and of leapers goes swiftly toward Lanka, having crossed the great ocean, passing through blue meadows, fragrant woods full of honey, and mountains covered with trees and lines of flowering forest. Standing on that mountain, the son of the wind sees woods and groves and Lanka standing on the top of the mountain: sarala, karnikara and flowering date trees, priyala, mucalinda, kutaja and ketaka, fragrant priyangu, nipa and saptacchada, asana, kovidara and karavira in flower, trees bound with the weight of flowers and others in bud, full of birds, their tops shaken by the wind; ponds full of swans and ducks, covered with lotuses and water-lilies, many lovely pleasure grounds and pools, beautiful gardens thick with trees that flower and fruit in every season. Reaching Lanka, ruled by Ravana, adorned with moats full of lotuses and water-lilies, closely guarded by Ravana since the abduction of Sita, with rakshasas with fierce bows patrolling all round, the great city surrounded by a golden wall, with houses like mountains and autumn clouds, with white, high streets, crowded with hundreds of watchtowers, adorned with flags and banners and with divine golden gateways bright with rows of creepers, Hanuman sees Lanka as a god might see the city of the gods. He sees it standing on the top of the mountain with its white, lovely houses, like a city flying in the sky, guarded by the king of the rakshasas, built by Vishvakarman, as if floating in the air. Its hips are the ramparts and walls; its garment the wide waters and forests; its hair the hundred-killers and spears; its ear ornaments the watchtowers: Lanka, as if made by the mind, built by Vishvakarman. Reaching the northern gate, the monkey thinks: it is like the dwelling on Kailasa, as if scratching the sky, as if holding up the sky with its lofty mansions, full of terrible rakshasas as Bhogavati is of nagas, inconceivable, well made, clear, once inhabited by Kubera, guarded by terrible, brave rakshasas with many fangs, spears and pikes in their hands, as a cave by venomous snakes. Seeing its great defences, the ocean and his terrible enemy Ravana, the monkey reflects: “Even if the monkeys come here, they will be useless; Lanka cannot be conquered in war even by the gods. Even if he reached this impregnable Lanka, ruled by Ravana, what would mighty-armed Raghava do? There is no opening here for conciliation with the rakshasas, nor for gifts, nor for division, nor is war to be seen. Only four of the swift monkeys could get here: Valin’s son, Nila, I, and the wise king. First let me find out whether Vaidehi is alive or not; I will think about it there, when I have seen Janaka’s daughter.”

Standing on that mountain peak, the elephant among monkeys thinks for a moment about Rama’s success: “In this form I cannot enter the city of the rakshasas, guarded by cruel, mighty rakshasas. All these rakshasas, of great might, valour and strength, must be deceived by me as I search for Janaki. I must enter Lanka by night, in a form barely to be seen, when the time comes, to accomplish my great task.” Seeing that city, unassailable by gods and asuras, Hanuman sighs again and again and thinks: “By what means can I see Maithili, Janaka’s daughter, unseen by wicked Ravana, king of the rakshasas? How can the work of Rama, who knows himself, not be ruined? How can I see Janaka’s daughter alone, in a lonely place? Matters that have come to be are ruined when they meet a bewildered messenger who acts against place and time, as darkness at sunrise. A decision, though made, does not shine when it wavers between purpose and its opposite; messengers who think themselves wise destroy tasks. How can the task not be ruined? How can I not be bewildered? How can my leap across the ocean not be in vain? If I am seen by the rakshasas, this task of Rama, who knows himself, who wishes Ravana’s ruin, will come to nothing. It is not possible to stay anywhere here unknown to the rakshasas, even in a rakshasa’s form, let alone in any other. I think even the wind does not move here unknown; nothing here is unknown to the rakshasas of terrible deeds. If I stay here in my own form, I will be destroyed and my master’s purpose will fail. So, in my own form, made small, I will descend on Lanka by night for the success of Raghava’s purpose. Entering Ravana’s city by night, so hard to approach, I will search every house and see Janaka’s daughter.” Having decided this, the monkey Hanuman, eager to see Vaidehi, waits for the sun to set. When the sun has set, at night, the son of the wind shrinks his body to the size of a cat, wonderful to see. At dusk the mighty Hanuman leaps up quickly and enters the lovely city with its well-divided great roads, spread with rows of palaces, with golden pillars and golden lattices, like a city of the gandharvas. He sees the great city with its seven- and eight-storey buildings, its floors set with crystal, adorned with gold, studded with beryl and gems, adorned with nets of pearls; the rakshasas’ houses shine with them. The rakshasas’ many-coloured golden gateways light up Lanka, adorned all round. Seeing Lanka, inconceivable and wonderful in form, the great monkey is both downcast and delighted, eager to see Vaidehi. He sees the glorious city garlanded with white celestial mansions, with costly golden lattices and gateways, guarded by Ravana’s arms and by night-rangers of terrible strength. And the moon, as if helping him, shining among the stars, spreading the worlds with a canopy of moonlight, rises with many thousands of rays. The foremost monkey hero sees the moon rising, shining, like a conch, the colour of milk and lotus stalks, floating like a swan on a lake.

Press › to begin with verse 1.

स सागरमनाधृष्यमतिक्रम्य महाबलः ।त्रिकूटस्य तटे लंकां स्थितः स्वस्थो ददर्श ह ॥ १ ॥

Having crossed the unassailable ocean, the very mighty one, standing at ease on the slope of Trikuta, saw Lanka.

Hanuman’s first sight of Lanka is both thrilling and sobering. The city is a marvel: golden walls, white mansions “like a city flying in the sky”, and the poet’s image of Lanka as a woman whose hips are ramparts, whose garment is the sea and forests, and whose hair is bristling weapons. But it is also impregnable. Hanuman admits frankly that none of the four strategies, conciliation, gifts, division or force, seems possible here.

His reasoning about how to proceed is a small treatise on the role of a messenger. A confused envoy destroys the cause he serves; so he will enter by night, shrunk to the size of a cat. The sarga ends in beauty: the moon rises “like a swan floating on a lake”, as if lending its light to his search.

Sources. Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, sarga 2 (southern recension, Gita Press numbering). Commentary by Vani Darshan, not scripture.