From the towering heights of Mount Vindhya, emerging from the depths of a cavern vast and shadowed, came forth the divine bird Sampathi, son of Aruna and Syeni, charioteer of Lord Aditya. His presence cast a solemn hush over the gathered warriors on the ocean’s shore.
With eyes that had witnessed the ages and a heart weighed by fate, Sampathi spoke: “All creatures move according to the divine will. Destiny binds us in its grand design. I hear of your plight and see your despair. But know that I, too, suffer—I am weakened by hunger.”
The assembled simians, stricken by fear, murmured amongst themselves. Could this be Lord Yama in disguise, come to claim them for their failures? They lamented their unfulfilled duty to Rama, their inability to locate Sita, and their defiance of their king’s decree. Now, before them, stood this formidable bird, waiting.
Understanding their distress, Sampathi inquired, “Who are you, and what troubles your hearts?”
Angada, son of Vali, stepped forward and with measured breath recounted their tale. “We are warriors sent on a sacred mission—to find Sita, the beloved consort of Rama. Long ago, King Dasaratha’s noble son, Rama, entered the Dandaka Forest, abiding by his father’s command. With him were his devoted brother, Lakshmana, and his radiant wife, Sita. But she was stolen away by the demon Ravana. Jatayu, the valiant bird, sought to halt Ravana’s wicked flight but fell in battle, yielding his life in noble sacrifice. Now, we search for Sita, bound by duty to Rama and Sugreeva, our sovereign. Yet time has slipped through our grasp. Our hearts tremble at the thought of returning empty-handed.”
At these words, Sampathi’s soul stirred. “Alas! You bring tidings of my dearest brother, Jatayu. More precious than my own life was he! Yet I lay helpless, bound to this mountain, my wings scorched, unable to aid him in his final hour. O, warriors, lower me from this height, that I may assist you in your quest.”
Moved by the elder bird’s grief, Angada and his companions carefully lifted him down. The prince of the simians then spoke: “O noble bird, know that I am Angada, grandson of the mighty Rukshaja, son of the swift and valiant Vali. In the house of Ikshvaku reigns Rama, the protector of dharma, now roams the wilderness in search of his beloved Sita. Jatayu, though aged and frail, assailed Ravana with fury, shattering his chariot and wounding him. Yet, alas, he fell. Rama, in his sorrow, performed the last rites for the fallen hero. In turn, Rama allied with Sugreeva, who now reigns in my father’s stead. It is by his command that we venture forth, yet despite our tireless search, Sita remains lost to us. In this cavern of Maya, time deceived us, and we have failed our king. We tremble at Sugreeva’s wrath, uncertain of our fate.”
Sampathi, wise with the weight of ages, spoke solemnly. “The valiant Jatayu, whom you mourn, was my beloved brother. My heart has long grieved for him, but I was powerless, for I lost my wings in an age now past. Once, he and I soared the heavens, challenging the very sun in our flight. The heat grew unbearable for my brother, and to shield him, I spread my wings wide, absorbing the fiery rays. But in doing so, my wings were consumed, and I fell to this mountain, bound to the earth ever since. Since that day, I have known nothing of my dear Jatayu’s fate—until now.”
Hearing this, Angada’s heart quickened. “Then tell us, O wise one, what you know of Sita and of Ravana’s domain. Help us, that we may fulfill our duty to Rama.”
Sampathi’s gaze turned toward the horizon. “Though I am bound to this earth, my sight remains unclouded. I have lived through the churning of the ocean, witnessed the battles of gods and demons, and seen the form of Vishnu expand across the cosmos. And now, I shall aid you. One day, from the heights of this very mountain, I beheld a vision—a woman of celestial beauty, draped in silk, radiant as fire. She was borne away in the grasp of Ravana, casting her jewels upon the wind, crying out for Rama and Lakshmana. She is Sita, of that I am certain.”
At this revelation, the simians listened with rapt attention.
“Know this,” Sampathi continued, “Ravana, son of the sage Visravas, brother of Kubera, dwells in Lanka, an island eight hundred miles across the sea. Lanka is a city of splendor, built by the divine architect Vishwakarma, adorned with golden palaces and jeweled gates. In its heart stands a fortress where Sita is held, watched over by a host of fearsome demonesses.”
Jambavantha, the wise elder of the simians, stepped forward. “Tell us, noble Sampathi, of the precise whereabouts of Sita. How did she come to be in Lanka? Who has seen her? Tell us all that you know.”
Sampathi, his spirit alight with purpose, began his tale. “Long have I languished upon this mountain, my strength waning, sustained only by my son, Suparsva. One fateful evening, he returned empty-handed, his usual hunt disturbed by an ominous sight—a dark figure moving through the sky, carrying a woman whose beauty rivaled the sun’s first light. He had thought to strike, but the figure pleaded for his life, and my son, noble of heart, relented.
Then, as the figure vanished into the distance, the sages of the sky descended and spoke to me. ‘You have done well, Sampathi, for this demon carries his doom within his grasp. The woman he bears is Sita, daughter of Janaka, wife of Rama. In her abduction lies his downfall.'”
A fire rekindled in Sampathi’s eyes. “Then, I understood—Ravana has sealed his fate. His arrogance will lead him to ruin. Though I am earthbound, my wisdom remains. With my sight, I shall guide you across the ocean to Lanka. The winds of fate have begun to stir, heralding a war that shall shake the heavens and the earth alike.”
Hope surged through the warriors; their despair lifted like mist before the morning sun. Sampathi’s revelation was like nectar to their weary souls.
“Now,” the aged bird declared, “make your plan. Cross the salt-sea, find Sita, and fulfill your vow to Rama. The hour of destiny draws near, and the great battle shall soon unfold.”