The once-prosperous, fortified land of Lanka had, in mere moments, been reduced to a burning inferno—fear-stricken demons fled amidst the devastation, trees lay broken, creepers uprooted, and ashes blanketed the ruined city. The transformation from grandeur to desolation was swift and total. Hanuman, the mighty son of Vayu, surveyed the destruction with a measure of satisfaction, but then a sudden thought gripped his heart.
“With fire raging through every corner, even the hidden recesses of the city, what of Sita? Is she safe? Have I acted too hastily?” he wondered in alarm.
He reflected with remorse: “Those who temper their anger are noble souls. But in wrath, even the wise stray from righteousness. Anger blinds judgment, silences reason, and turns words cruel. It knows no bounds and recognizes no virtue. Like a serpent shedding its skin, anger must be cast off repeatedly, lest it consume the self. Only one who restrains anger finds peace.”
His heart trembled. “What reckless act have I committed? Without ensuring Sita’s safety, I set Lanka ablaze. If she has perished, my entire mission is in vain. I crossed the vast ocean for her sake—has all been lost in a moment of rage? My ignorance may have disturbed Lord Rama’s peace. If my fire harmed her, the cause I fight for turns hollow. I have failed not only her but also Rama, Lakshmana, and King Sugreeva. I may have doomed the very hope of rescuing her.”
He lamented: “My judgment has brought only devastation. If Sita is harmed, I shall bear the shame of endangering the sacred lineage of Ikshvaku and the noble realm of Mithila. The fury meant for demons may have wounded the one I sought to protect. What punishment do I deserve now? Neither fire will scorch me, nor ocean drown me. Even beasts will not approach me. How, then, do I atone?”
His soul in turmoil, Hanuman sank into deep remorse. “My instinct overtook wisdom. Anger is the dark nature of beasts, untamed and wild, driving senseless deeds. Though I possess the strength to protect Janaka’s daughter, my rage might have undone it all. If she is no more, Rama and Lakshmana will not survive her loss, and Sugreeva and all the vanaras will fall into grief. The destruction I caused may have shattered the balance between dharma and the world.”
Burdened with guilt, Hanuman entered deep meditation, praying to his divine father, Vayu. In this solemn state, he perceived auspicious omens—signs he had witnessed earlier that once again renewed his faith.
“Sita’s chastity shall be her shield,” he thought, “and Rama’s divine grace, her protection. No fire, no water, no earth nor wind can harm her. If the very flames spared me, how could they touch her, the pure and virtuous?”
He recalled the moment Mount Mainaka rose from the ocean to aid his flight—another divine intervention. “By her devotion and purity, Sita shall remain untouched by harm. Surely the gods themselves will protect her.”
At that moment, celestial beings and sages descended, their voices confirming the truth: “Hanuman, you have achieved the impossible—burning the palace of Ravana! The world marvels at your feat. Lanka mourns, believing divine wrath has descended upon them for their king’s sins. And yet, not a flame has touched Sita. Her virtue preserved her in the inferno.”
Relieved and invigorated, Hanuman resolved to seek Sita’s blessing and take her message to Rama. He swiftly returned to the Ashoka grove and beheld her sitting gracefully beneath the Simsupa tree.
With reverence, he said, “By the grace of the divine, I see you unharmed, O Sita.”
She smiled gently. “You are the terror of demons, Hanuman. You alone could destroy their world. I witnessed your strength and valor. Yet, I long for Rama’s arrows to strike down my captors and reclaim me with dignity. Act only in ways that reflect his nobility and virtue.”
Hanuman bowed. “Sita Devi, believe this—Rama shall come with his army of vanaras, defeat the demons, and restore your honor. Grief and sorrow have no place in your heart now.”
Taking her permission, he ascended a towering peak to begin his return. From that height, he looked out over black-canopied forests, herds of mighty elephants marked with red, and clouds draped across the hills like a rainbow-hued scarf. Metals in the rocks gleamed in the sun, and the mountain stirred as if awakened by the tender warmth of daylight. Streams gushed, their murmurs resembling sacred chants. The cedar forests danced with the wind, their leaves vibrating like nature’s own joy.
The mountain, draped in thick bamboo groves, seemed to sing. Serpents slithered through the caves in quiet meditation. Cotton-like clouds floated above, like tufts of wool against the vast sky. Palmyra, coconut, and fruit-bearing trees covered the landscape like a vibrant carpet painted by the gods. Sages dwelled in hermitages among creepers and fragrant flowers, while lions roared from shadowy caverns.
Intent on his mission, Hanuman crushed the stones beneath his feet, magnified his form, and prepared to cross the ocean northward once more. As he leapt, the mountain quaked under his might, and trees caught in his wind blast scattered like birds. Even lions roared in panic, and celestial beings fled from the rumbling skies. The waves of the ocean danced in delight, celebrating his triumph.
With his powerful leap, Hanuman propelled himself into the heavens, the mountain sinking under his force. Nature, in awe, began to reshape itself in response, remolding the mountains, forests, and seas to mirror the cosmic order being restored.
Thus, the mission for Sita triumphed over all obstacles, paving the way for a greater war to end the tyranny of the rakshasas and to re-establish dharma in the three worlds.
