Glowing like the cool moon, having regained her composure, Sita began to speak meaningfully to Hanuman, the son of Vayu:
“Hanuman, your words that Rama is consumed by grief and sorrow for me are like poisoned delight. Though sweet, they pierce my heart. God binds all beings—whether in wealth or poverty, in joy or grief—with the rope of fate. No living soul can transgress His will; it is indisputable.
Rama, Lakshmana, and I are entangled in immense suffering, beyond measure. Rama is like a weary sailor swimming through a vast ocean, only to find the ship shattered mid-voyage. When will his grief end? That remains unknown.
Tell Rama to hurry! Let him slay the demons, destroy Ravana’s bastion, and come to see me. I have only two months left to live. Ravana granted me one year, ten months have already passed. Vibhishana pleaded with his brother to return me, but Ravana refused. He is in no mood to release me; bound by time, death shall soon claim him on the battlefield.
Vibhishana’s elder daughter, Nala, sent by her mother, conveyed to me her father’s advice and Ravana’s obstinacy. I am certain Rama will come soon. My soul resonates with Rama’s spirit, and he will surely respond.
Rama’s efforts, his strength, piety, non-violent intent, gratitude, bravery, and eloquence—these virtues surround him like protective flames. In Janasthana, Rama single-handedly destroyed fourteen powerful demons, leaving Lakshmana to guard me. He fears no enemy. Rama, best among men, does not falter in adversity. I know his steadiness, just as Sachi Devi knows the might of Indra.
O Hanuman! With rays of valor like a quiver full of arrows, Rama will vanquish the demons as effortlessly as water extinguishes fire.”
Tears welled in Sita’s eyes as she spoke of Rama.
Then spoke Hanuman, son of Vayu:
“O scion of virtue, Sita! I can free you from this grief at once. Gentle and flawless lady, sit upon my shoulder. I shall carry you to Rama this very moment. I can cross the ocean with you on my back. By Rama’s grace, I can uproot Lanka itself as if it were a stone lodged in a mountain.
Sita! Just as sacred offerings are given to Devendra by Agni, I can offer you to Rama who waits on Mount Prasravana. Rama and Lakshmana will soon come to destroy the demon race like Vishnu did of yore. Rama longs to see you, just as Indra rides his elephant, Airavata, to behold his queen. Be prepared, O divine woman, like Rohini going to her beloved Chandra. Come with me now!
With you on my back, we shall soar like the sun and moon across the sky, crossing the ocean unseen. None shall stop us as I return the same way I came.”
Surprised and gladdened by Hanuman’s bold speech, Sita replied:
“Hanuman, how do you expect to carry me such a great distance? Your monkey nature seems impetuous. O Simian Warrior, with such a small form, how can you take me to Rama?
Your words reveal immense power—but I have not yet seen it.”
Embarrassed but composed, Hanuman revealed his true form. Like Mount Meru and Mandara, he expanded. Blazing like fire, with diamond-like fangs and nails, his terrifying size and divine radiance filled the space.
He said:
“Sita Devi! I can carry mountains, palaces, and forests from Lanka. Dispel your fears. Come with me and end the grief of Rama and Lakshmana.”
Sita, her eyes wide with awe, replied:
“O son of Vayu! Your boldness and strength match your father. Your brilliance is like fire. But the vastness of this ocean cannot be crossed by an ordinary being. I know you can carry me, yet I must not come with you.
While you soar with the speed of wind, I may become dizzy, fall into the ocean, and become prey to crocodiles and whales. I cannot risk your life, nor can I risk mine.
If Ravana’s demons pursue you with tridents, maces, and axes, I may fall captive again—or worse, be killed. Your noble efforts will come to nothing.
The lives of Rama, Lakshmana, Sugreeva, and all others depend on your safe return. They grieve in my absence. Let not that sorrow deepen!
O Best of Monkeys! I have never touched another man. Ravana’s touch was forced and born of fate. Only Rama should rescue me and restore my honor.
Let Rama come, vanquish Ravana, and take me back in dignity. I know his valor—none in heaven or on earth, not even gods or celestial warriors, can defeat him in battle.
With his divine bow and arrows, guarded by the fierce Lakshmana—like a living flame—no enemy shall stand. Lakshmana, the incarnation of Adisesha, will bring death to all who oppose them.
O son of Vayu, swiftly take the message of my well-being to Rama and Lakshmana. Let that news soothe their parched souls.”
Thus spoke Sita, wise and resolute. Her logical clarity, her devotion to dharma, and her selfless desire to uphold the greater good over personal rescue shone like a beacon.
Her decision reflected not just the heart of a devoted wife, but the wisdom of a seer. Every being played their role in the divine script. The cosmic balance, the order of the universe, rested in their actions—woven together in the fabric of fate.
