Dadhimukha, the valiant chief guardian of the sacred Madhuvan, appeared before King Sugreeva in the august presence of Rama and Lakshmana. His face bore signs of agitation, his demeanor disturbed. Sugreeva, noticing this unrest, gently asked, “What troubles you, Dadhimukha? Has someone wronged you? You are loyal, revered, and dear to us. Please speak openly.”
With some hesitation, Dadhimukha bowed and began, “O noble King, for three generations your lineage has protected, nourished, and cherished Madhuvan—the prized jewel of Kishkindha. Now, under the command of Prince Angada and accompanied by Hanuman and Jambavan, a band of Vanaras has descended upon the grove. They have taken it over entirely—feasting on its fruits, drinking its honey and wine, indulging in its every offering. When I attempted to intervene, they threw me beyond the fence, dismissing my authority.”
He paused and continued with humility, “Even the wise and revered Jambavan partakes in this revelry. I thought it best to report this to you. Their joy is wild and unrestrained, suggesting something momentous has occurred.”
These words stirred deep thought in Sugreeva. A smile touched his lips as he turned to Rama and Lakshmana with folded hands, communicating a silent yet hopeful message. Rama, catching the signal, spoke with calm certainty, “Dadhimukha brings not complaint, but tidings of joy. Had they not succeeded, they would never have dared celebrate in Madhuvan. The fact that they feast there tells us they have found Sita.”
Rama’s face lit up with hope. “It must be Hanuman who discovered her. He is known for his steadfast devotion, valor, clarity of purpose, and scientific thought. With Jambavan’s wisdom and Angada’s youthful vigor by his side, his intellect would have only sharpened. The Vanaras wouldn’t have disrespected the grove’s guards unless overwhelmed with victorious emotion. This is a celebration after the success of their mission.”
Sugreeva turned to Dadhimukha. “You have brought us divine news. Rama and Lakshmana are eager to hear it directly from Hanuman. Go now, tell them I am pleased. Tell them their actions are not only forgiven—they are blessed. Ask them to come at once.”
With those words, Dadhimukha took flight and returned swiftly to Madhuvan. He approached Prince Angada with folded hands and a softened voice. “O gentle prince, my guards, out of ignorance, attempted to resist your entry. Please do not be angered by their folly. You are of royal blood and hold rightful authority over Madhuvan. I’ve informed King Sugreeva of your presence. He is overjoyed, not upset. He awaits your arrival, standing beside Rama and Lakshmana. He is proud of your leadership and longs to see you all.”
He bowed again. “Noble warriors, your mission is known to Rama. You’ve earned your rest and celebration. But now, let us return to our king. Though I speak humbly, I leave the decision to your wisdom. I am a prince, yes—but I will not command those who have shown such duty and dignity.”
Dadhimukha’s humility and grace deeply moved the Vanara leaders. In a world where power often suppresses gentleness, Angada had shown extraordinary restraint and courtesy. The others spoke in unison, “Your nobility shines brighter than rank. You treat us as equals. You shall be a worthy king after Sugreeva.”
Then, with shared joy and unity, the Vanara warriors rose into the sky. Like mighty mountains taking flight, they ascended in clouds, sweeping across the heavens with thundering noise—an aerial cascade of strength and elation.
Meanwhile, Sugreeva consoled Rama. “Do not worry. Their return, though delayed, confirms success. Had they failed, they would not dare rest or rejoice. The son of Vayu, Hanuman, would never slacken in duty. Like the sun cannot be separated from its light, Hanuman cannot be separated from result. O Rama, hear their joyful cries! Their voices ride the winds of triumph. They will land before us any moment—with news of Devi Sita.”
Even as Sugreeva spoke, the sky thundered with their arrival. The Vanaras landed, radiating life and triumph. They gathered behind Hanuman and Angada, their eyes filled with pride, awaiting their king.
Hanuman, with head bowed and hands folded, stepped forward. “Rama,” he said, “Sita Devi is alive. She is safe, bound in chastity, yet burdened by sorrow.”
Rama’s heart leapt with joy. Lakshmana’s eyes welled with gratitude. He stepped forward to thank each warrior for the life-giving news.
Rama then gently asked Hanuman for a brief account. The mighty son of Vayu turned southward, bowed, and said, “I offer my prayer to Sita. I will speak only the truth.
“I soared across the southern ocean in search of the daughter of Janaka. In the island city of Lanka, ruled by the wicked Ravana, I found her in the Ashoka grove, seated beneath a Simsupa tree. Her body weak, her soul steadfast, she dwells in sorrow, surrounded by hideous demonesses who torment her day and night. Yet her heart remains with you, Rama.
“She lies upon the bare earth like a lotus faded in winter. Her only nourishment is your memory. I sang praises of your dynasty, of your virtues, and she found solace in my words. She spoke to me, told me of your time together on Mount Chitrakuta—an intimate memory that only you would know. She gave me her head ornament, telling me to place it in your hands as proof of her fidelity.”
Hanuman held the ornament out, his hands trembling.
“She said, ‘Tell Rama, I shall live only one month more. If he does not come, the demon Ravana will end my life. Tell him everything I said, exactly as I said it.”
Hanuman finished his account. The sacred ornament lay in Sugreeva’s palm, soon to be placed in Rama’s.
Joy, sorrow, and purpose now mingled in the air.
Rama stood tall. “Now,” he declared, “we build the bridge.”
Hanuman’s report had not just delivered a message—it unveiled the next chapter. This was not merely news—it was a sculpted vision of strategy, integration, and purpose. It whispered a timeless truth: no task is impossible when commitment, unity, precision, planning, discipline, and creativity march together in harmony.
