In the hallowed groves of Ashoka, where nature’s artistry flourished in unparalleled splendor, the son of Vayu, Hanuman, stood in contemplative anticipation.
His keen simian eyes surveyed the vibrant garden, a realm where flora entwined like twin brothers, forming verdant ropes of mighty girth. Creepers wove through sturdy trunks, their delicate leaves caressing each other, producing melodies as if nature itself danced and sang in harmonious union.
The air was thick with the intoxicating fragrance of blossoms and the sweet aroma of ripened fruits, carried by gentle zephyrs that could stir even inanimate stones and trunks to temptation. How then could beasts and giants remain unaffected?
This garden, in its gentle and exotic order, seemed to rival the celestial Nandana itself, a testament to divine craftsmanship. Birds and beasts moved with a rhythm attuned to nature’s cadence, displaying a discipline that spoke of an unseen order. Surrounding this paradise, palatial edifices rose—marvels of architectural genius and aesthetic excellence. Their opulence, adorned with celestial embellishments, whispered tales of grandeur. The koel’s mild song initiated a symphony among its avian kin, as if a divine competition had been declared.
Golden lotuses and gem-studded creepers adorned the tranquil lakes, crafting narratives of art and devotion by demon sculptors. Flocks of birds, bewildered, fluttered between nature’s creations and these artistic marvels, unable to discern the real from the crafted. Stepwells, carved from coral, drew both birds and deer, who loitered as if in circumambulation of a deity, their desires subdued by the sanctity of the palace.
Seats and chairs, fashioned from ivory and lined with gold and silver, studded with precious gems, stood amidst carpets laced with fine silks. Their golden borders, embellished with pearls and corals, spread across the area like a regal tapestry. Beneath the palatial grounds, underground chambers decorated with crystals and moonstones whispered secrets of ancient times.
The Ashoka groves bloomed with rich foliage and flowers, their radiant hues resembling the tender rays of the sun. Clusters of red and orange blossoms startled young birds, who mistook them for forest fires, filling the air with their distressed cries. Deciduous trees, heavy with blossoms, bent their branches earthward, as if kissing the sacred ground. The carpets of deep orange flowers mirrored ascetics in saffron robes, bowing in penance to Mother Earth. Groves of banyan trees stood adorned with white flowers, resembling canopies of mist, awaiting the chaste and divine presence of Sita to grace their realm.
Hanuman observed the gardens, its fiery blooms casting tender rays that spread joy and delight. Amidst this splendor, the Ashoka groves bore clusters of blue flowers, appearing as garlands of sapphires gleaming with resplendent light.
The son of Anjani found a striking resemblance between this earthly paradise and the celestial gardens of Nandana, owned by Indra, and the vast Chaitya Radha, owned by Kubera. The resplendent beauty of Ashoka rivaled any wonder crafted by nature. The garden, a tapestry of flowers, mirrored a sky adorned with twinkling stars, while the gleaming orange blossoms resembled a second ocean, vast and mesmerizing.
Fruits and flowers, perennial in their abundance, filled the air with honeyed fragrance, creating an ambience of bewildering delight. The entire area exuded the essence of sandalwood, its subtle aroma flowing unrestricted, enveloping all in its embrace.
In his exploration, Hanuman discovered a divine prayer hall, crafted from pristine white marble and lined with gold, studded with diamonds, standing as a second Mount Gandhamadana, emanating a pious and cool breeze. This sanctum rested upon a thousand pillars, each reflecting the genius of its architect. Steps carved from coral led to floors of refined gold, dazzling the eyes with cascades of golden rays, rivalling the brilliance of the sun.
Yet, beneath its opulence, the palace bore the weight of antiquity, its divine vibes hinting at secrets untold. Within its fortified walls, natural Ashoka groves thrived, their presence both a testament to time and a harbinger of revelation. Hanuman sensed that despite the grandeur and security, the place held mysteries yearning to be unveiled.
Contemplating deeply, he attuned himself to the celestial vibrations that hinted at the presence of a divine being. Curiosity propelled him forward, and he ascended a nearby tree, concealing himself within its thick foliage. From this vantage point, his relentless search bore fruit.
There, amidst a herd of demonesses, he beheld a woman of radiant beauty. Her attire was tattered and soiled. Her countenance, though weakened by deprivation and sorrow, shone like the crescent moon waning in its fortnight. Her eyes, filled with tears of loss, insecurity, and fear, mirrored the depth of her suffering. Yet, even in distress, she exuded a grace that seemed to pierce through the veils of despair.
Clad in a simple, sacred yellow saree, devoid of ornaments, she resembled a lake muddied and bereft of lotuses, yet hinting at the promise of budding blooms. Her grief had rendered her pale, her gaze cast downward, embodying a goddess in distress. She appeared as Rohini eclipsed by Mars, her brilliance dimmed.
Her mind oscillated between memories of the past and uncertainties of the future, oblivious to the present. Surrounded by ferocious, armed demonesses, she seemed a tender doe encircled by hunting hounds. Her unkempt plait hung like a black cobra, a stark contrast to her former elegance. Unaccustomed to such adversity, her current plight deepened her sorrow and disappointment.
Despite her diminished physical state, her inherent divine radiance remained undiminished, convincing Hanuman that she was none other than Sita. Observing closely, he recognized her as the same noble lady abducted by the demon king in disguise. In his contemplative vision, he saw her moon-like face, lotus-like eyes, and brows arched like delicate creepers, dispelling darkness with her inner light.
Her grace, beauty, and chastity manifested vividly in his meditation. She, the beloved of nature, appeared as an ascetic immersed in the ritual chanting of Rama’s glory, sighing like a fearful serpent. Deep in distress, her brilliance was momentarily eclipsed, like fire enveloped in smoke, intelligence clouded by doubt, or wealth concealed by neglect.
She embodied concentration battered, hope restrained, tasks obstructed, and intellect overshadowed. Separated from Rama, deceived by Ravana, and her reputation tarnished by false allegations, she was a subject bereft of her lord’s presence. The doe-eyed Sita, unable to restrain her tears, cast her eyes downward in helplessness. Her strained countenance scanned her surroundings with haste and restlessness, sighing often. Deprived of the comforts of ritual baths and offerings to the Sun God, she resembled a crescent moon veiled by clouds. Her neglected appearance sowed a seed of doubt in Hanuman’s mind—was this truly Sita or another soul in distress?
Yet, as a sentence gains clarity through the lens of grammar, Hanuman, with determined focus, discerned her true identity. Devotion to Rama and her inherent divinity dispelled all uncertainty. With unwavering conviction, he knew this was indeed Sita, the very embodiment of virtue and steadfast love.
A surge of reverence filled Hanuman’s heart as he beheld her. The daughter of Janaka, now a captive in a land of demons, remained unshaken in spirit. Though wrapped in sorrow, her essence remained untarnished, her soul a beacon of righteousness amidst the darkness of Lanka.
He resolved to tread with utmost caution, ensuring that neither his presence nor his approach startled her fragile heart. His mission was sacred, his duty paramount—to bring hope to one who had long been bereft of it. Thus, with the wisdom of a sage and the agility of the wind god’s son, Hanuman prepared to reveal himself to the one who held the fate of dharma within her sorrowful yet unwavering gaze.
