The king of the vultures, a wise old bird named Sampāti, happened to come by the place where the monkeys lay, determined to starve themselves to death. He was Jaṭāyu’s brother and was famous for his strength and courage. He came out of a hollow in the Vindhya mountains and was delighted to see the monkeys lying there.
‘Truly, destiny looks after all the creatures in the world and provides for their needs,’ he said happily as he watched them. ‘The food I have waited for so long has finally come to me! I shall eat each generation of monkeys as they die one after the other!’
Angada heard what the hungry bird said and, terrified, he turned to Hanumān. ‘The god of death has arrived in this form to finish off the monkeys! And it is all because of Sītā! Rāma’s mission is incomplete, the king’s orders have not been fulfilled and now this calamity has come upon us from who knows where! We have all heard what Jaṭāyu, the king of the vultures, did for Sītā’s sake. Even the lower orders of beings will do anything for Rāma. They are even prepared to sacrifice their lives for him as we are doing now!
‘Jaṭāyu was lucky to have been killed by Rāvaṇa in battle. He does not have to live in fear of Sugrīva and he has gone straight to heaven! The deaths of Daśaratha and Jaṭāyu as well as the abduction of Sītā have brought the monkeys to this terrible pass! Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa living in the forest with Sītā, Rāma’s killing of Vālī by a single arrow, the massacre of the rākṣasas because they earned Rāma’s wrath, these are the unhappy consequences of the boons given to Kaikeyī!’
Sampāti heard what Angada was saying and that sharp-beaked bird spoke in an enormous voice. ‘Who is this that speaks of the death of my brother Jaṭāyu? He was dearer to me than my own life! My mind is disturbed when I hear this! I have heard my brother’s name mentioned after many long years! How come there was a fight in Janasthāna between my brother, who is a vulture, and a rākṣasa? My younger brother was virtuous and brave and worthy of praise for his many exploits. I want to know how he died, best of monkeys! My brother lived in Janasthāna. How did he become friends with Daśaratha whose eldest son is Rāma, loved by all? My wings were burnt off by the sun so I am unable to move. But I want to get off this mountain, great monkey!’
Though Sampāti seemed feeble and his voice quavered with emotion, the monkeys were still very suspicious because they had heard his earlier words. Despite the fact that the monkeys had decided to die by starvation, they came to the grim conclusion that Sampāti wanted to eat them. ‘If he eats us we will die quickly and go to heaven!’ they thought and that seemed a better prospect.
Angada helped Sampāti down from the mountain and told him how the monkeys had come to be on the shores of the ocean. ‘While we were in the magical cave, the stipulated time period elapsed. We are all subservient to the king of the monkeys and since the time has passed, we fear his anger and are resolved to fast to death. We would not live even if we were to return!’
Sampāti listened sympathetically to the pitiful tale from the monkeys who were ready to die. ‘Jaṭāyu was my younger brother and now you tell me that he was killed by a rākṣasa who was stronger than him,’ he said, choking on his tears. ‘I am old and wingless now, so I must bear this insult. I no longer have the strength to avenge the death of my brother!
‘In the old days, when Vṛtra had been killed,* my brother and I were racing each other and we flew up to the sun. Higher and higher we flew, faster and faster, in spirals. When the sun had reached the middle of the sky, Jaṭāyu grew tired. I saw that he was almost fainting from the heat, so I spread my wings over him and shielded him. My wings were burnt off and I fell here, on top of the Vindhya mountain. I have lived here since then but I have had no news of my brother.’
‘If you are Jaṭāyu’s brother,’ said young Angada, ‘and if you have been listening to what I was saying, then you must tell us where that rākṣasa lives! Tell us, does that foolish, short-sighted Rāvaṇa live close by or far away? You must tell us if you know!’
The mighty old bird’s words gave the monkeys hope. ‘I am old and wingless now and I have lost all my strength,’ he said, ‘but I shall do my best to help Rāma with my words!
‘I know the worlds ruled by Varuṇa. I know which ones belong to the striding Viṣṇu. I have witnessed the war between the gods and the asuras and I have seen the churning of the ocean of milk for nectar. Helping Rāma should be my first priority, but age has sapped my powers and I am worn out!
‘I saw a beautiful young woman, adorned with jewels, being carried away by the wicked rākṣasa Rāvaṇa. She cried “Rāma! Rāma! Lakṣmaṇa!” as she writhed in his arms and tore the jewels from her body. Her fine silken garments shone like a sunbeam on a mountain or lightning against a dark cloud as she was held in the rākṣasa’s dark arms. I assumed she was Sītā because she cried out to Rāma over and over again. Listen and I will tell you where that wicked rākṣasa lives!
‘Rāvaṇa is the son of Viśravas and the brother of Kubera. He rules over the city of Lankā. The city was built by Viśvakarmā and it is situated on an island in the middle of the ocean, one hundred yojanās from here. That is where the distraught Sītā in her fine silken garments has been taken. She lives in his inner apartments, guarded by rākṣasīs, pathetic and weeping.
‘You will find the princess in that city which is surrounded on all sides by the sea. Use your strength and go there. I am certain that you will find her in Lankā. I can see Rāvaṇa and Sītā very clearly from here with the divine eyes that all vultures have. This natural gift allows us to see things that are far away, even one hundred yojanās away!
‘Think of some way to get across the salty seas. You are bound to find Sītā and you can return, your mission accomplished. Now take me to the shores of the ocean so that I can perform the last rites for my brother who has already gone to heaven!’
The powerful monkeys carried the wingless Sampāti to the shore and then brought him back, delighted at having received some news of Sītā.
The monkeys assembled and shouted with joy as they returned to the sea shore in great spirits, eager to see Sītā. They camped on the northern shore and gazed at the ocean which seemed to mirror the entire world. The sight of the immense ocean with its huge and fantastic creatures frolicking in its rolling waves disturbed them. In some places, the ocean seemed to be asleep, in others, it seemed playful, and in still others, its waves rose up as high as a mountain. It seemed filled with fierce dānavas from the underworld, frightful enough to make the hair stand on end, and it filled the monkeys with despair. They stared miserably at the ocean which was as vast as the sky and they said to one another, ‘What shall we do now?’
Angada saw that the vast monkey army was stricken with terror. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘Despair is your worst enemy and can kill a man as easily as a snake can kill a sleeping child. He who is despondent when the situation calls for courage will never achieve his ends!’
When the night had passed, Angada consulted the elders and veterans. Surrounded by his army of monkeys, he looked like Indra surrounded by the māruts. There was no one there apart from Angada and Hanumān who could keep that: mighty force in order. Angada took the permission of his elders and addressed the monkeys.
‘Who has the power to leap over the ocean and keep Sugrīva’s promise? Which of you heroic monkeys can leap one hundred yojanās and relieve the others of their fear? Whose prowess will enable us to return in happiness and see our wives and our children and our homes again? Whose strength will allow us to return joyfully to Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa and Sugrīva? If there is anyone here who can do this, then let him speak up quickly and release us from our fear!’
Angada’s words were greeted with total silence as the monkey army stood there petrified. Angada spoke again. ‘You are all strong and brave and extremely powerful. You are well born and have been honoured for your exploits. None of you has ever been stopped by an obstacle. Come forward now and declare how strong you really are, best of monkeys!’
The monkeys responded enthusiastically. Gaja said ‘I can leap ten yojanās!’ and Gavākṣa said he could leap twenty. Gavaya told the others that he could leap thirty, Śarabha announced that he could definitely cover forty. And then the mighty Gandhamādana said that he could leap fifty yojanās. Mainda said that he could leap at least sixty and Dvivida declared that he could reach seventy. Suṣeṇa said that he could almost certainly leap eighty yojanās.
Then the oldest of them all, Jāmbavān spoke up. ‘In the old days, I, too, was swift and strong. But now I am almost at the end of my life. But given the situation, I cannot be indifferent to the task at hand which means so much to Rāma and the king of the monkeys. Despite the changes that time has wrought, let me tell you that I can still leap ninety yojanās.
‘This was not all that I could do in the past,’ he continued. ‘When Viṣṇu took his three strides to cover the earth, I was able to circumambulate him! Now I am old and my capacities to leap are greatly reduced. But in my younger days, I was unrivalled! I think all I can do now is ninety yojanās. But our task is not going to be accomplished by speed and power alone!’
‘I can cover this huge distance of one hundred yojanās but I am not sure if I will be able to come back,’ said Angada, displaying his magnanimity.
‘We know your speed and power, best of all monkeys!’ said Jāmbavān who knew the right words for every situation. ‘You could probably leap one hundred or even one thousand yojanās and return with ease. But my child, as the leader of our expedition, you should not go yourself. Send others out for we are all here to do your bidding. You have been appointed leader of this force and we must ensure your safety. We must look after you as we would our own wives. You are the primary force behind the successful completion of this mission with your skills, intelligence, courage and energy. Besides that, you are the son of our master and we can only follow your lead!’
‘If I must not go and no one else can go, then we have no choice but to fast till we die!’ replied Angada. ‘I do not know how we will save our lives if we do not fulfil Sugrīva’s wishes, even if we do go back! He is our master and he can do whatever he wants, in anger and in joy. If we go back unsuccessful, our destruction is guaranteed!. You are wise. Consider the matter carefully and tell us how we can achieve our ends!’
‘This task which is so important to you will not fail! Let me persuade the only one who is capable of making it succeed!’ said Jāmbavān. He set about trying to urge the heroic Hanumān, the very best of all the monkeys, who was sitting happily by himself.
Jāmbavān called upon Hanumān because he saw that the monkey troops, which consisted of many thousands, were very depressed. ‘Hero among monkeys, so learned in all the traditional texts, you sit alone and in silence. Why do you not speak, Hanumān?
‘You are Sugrīva’s equal and you are like Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa in splendour and strength. Garuḍa is the foremost of all the winged creatures and I have often seen that mighty one carrying off snakes from the ocean. The strength of your arms is like the strength of his wings. Neither his strength nor his speed surpass yours. Best of monkeys, strength, intelligence, splendour and a commitment to truth make you special among all beings. Awake to yourself!
‘Punjikasthalā was the best of the apsarases but she was better known as Añjanā, the wife of the monkey Kesari. She became a monkey because of a curse and was born as the daughter of Kunjara, king of the monkeys. But she was able to change her shape at will. Even in her monkey form she was exquisitely beautiful with well-formed limbs, and sometimes she took on the form of a young and lovely young woman.
‘One day, adorned with garlands and dressed in fine silks, she wandered alone on top of a mountain. As the large-eyed woman stood there, her yellow cloth edged with red was gently pulled away by Vāyu, the wind god. He saw her well-rounded thighs, her slim waist, her large breasts and her lovely face. Vāyu embraced that blameless woman in his strong arms and lost himself, desire overpowering his limbs.
‘“Who is this who wants to destroy my vows of fidelity to my husband?” she cried in agitation. “Do not be afraid,” replied Vāyu. “I will not harm you, lady with the lovely hips! My heart went out to you when I embraced you. You shall have a son who is brave and endowed with wisdom!”
‘When you were a child, Hanumān, you saw the sun rising over a large forest. You thought it was a fruit and you leapt towards it to grab it. You leapt a distance of three hundred yojanās and though the sun’s rays were strong, you did not falter. Indra hurled his thunderbolt at you as you flew through the air. You fell onto the peak of a mountain and your jaw broke. And from that you were given the name Hanumān by which you are now famous.*
‘Vāyu, the bearer of soft fragrances, saw you fall and was very angry. He ceased to blow in the three worlds and all creatures suffered terribly. The gods were confused and decided to appease Vāyu. So Brahmā gave you a boon, my child, by which you cannot be slain by any weapons in battle. When Indra saw that you were relatively unharmed after your fall, he was pleased and gave you the best boon of all. Your death will be of your own choosing!
‘Son of the Wind, you are Vāyu’s equal in splendour and you rival his capacity to get from one place to another. We are dispirited today and you sit among us, endowed with strength and power, like the king of the birds. I am old and have lost my strength but you have all the skills and powers necessary for the occasion.
‘Expand yourself, Hanumān! You are the foremost of all those who can leap. The entire monkey army waits to see your valour! Stand up, tiger among monkeys, and leap over the ocean! You are the swiftest of all beings! How can you ignore the anguish of the monkeys?’ exhorted Jāmbavān.
Mighty Hanumān, worthy of all the praise showered upon him, began to increase in size. Waving his tail with joy, he attained his full strength. He swelled with energy and his form became unparalleled and the monkeys sang his praises. As a lion stretches at the mouth of a cave, so Hanumān stretched and expanded. His open mouth resembled a smokeless fire as he yawned.
He stood among the monkeys, his hair standing on end with joy. He honoured the elders and said, ‘I am the son of Vāyu, the wind that shatters the mountain peaks, the friend of the sacrificial fire, the mighty immeasurable wind who roams the skies! No one is my equal! I can circle Mount Meru one thousand times even though it is enormous and seems to touch the sky. I can churn the sea by thrashing my arms and inundate the earth with its mountains, rivers and lakes!
‘I can go to where the sun rises with its garland of shining rays and return here without touching the ground! I can stride further than all those who travel in the sky. I can agitate the ocean and split the earth! I shall make the mountains tremble when I leap and repel the ocean! Flowers from plants and trees will follow in my wake as I leap across the sky. My path shall be like that of the stars and all creatures will see me as I fly! I shall pierce the clouds, I shall shake the mountains. Nobody except Vāyu and Garuḍa can rival me for speed!
‘I know I shall see Sītā, so rejoice, monkeys! I can leap over ten thousand yojanās and after turning Lankā upside down, I shall return!’ roared Hanumān.
‘Ah, dear boy!’ said Jāmbavān joyfully to the splendid Hanumān. ‘You have dispelled the profound grief of your companions. We wish you well and will perform the auspicious rites necessary for your success. Our best thoughts will be with you as you leap over the ocean. We shall all stand on one foot until you return. Remember, our lives depend on you!’
‘The earth will not withstand the power of my leap,’ said Hanumān. ‘But the rocky peaks will bear the thrust of my feet as I take off.’ Hanumān, the scourge of his foes, climbed up Mount Mahendra which was covered with flowering trees and creepers and grassy meadows where deer roamed. Lions and tigers and elephants wandered among its waterfalls.
Hanumān went to the very top, and crushed under the feet of that mighty monkey the mountain roared like a rutting elephant attacked by a lion. Water was squeezed from the mountain and gushed out from the scattered stones and rocks. Deer and elephants were frightened away and the trees shook and trembled. The slopes of the mountain were deserted by the gandharvas who were busy making love as well as by the vidyādharas and all the birds. Huge serpents that lurked in rocky crevices were thrown up and as they emerged, hissing, from their holes, the great mountain shone as if it were decorated with flags. The sages fled from the peaks in agitation and the mountain was like a traveller, deserted by his companions, sitting alone in a forest.