The son of Vayu, Hanuman, deeply understood the inner meaning behind the words of Janaka’s daughter, Sita. Adept in conversation and filled with reverence, Hanuman said:
“O virtuous and devoted Sita Devi, the pious glow on your face fills me with faith and strengthens my confidence. Your reasoning is graceful and fitting for a chaste and noble woman. To carry you across the vast ocean on my back would be a difficult task, especially given your delicate nature.
Your humble and affectionate declaration — ‘I shall not be touched by anyone but Rama’ — befits your divine and majestic demeanor. Words like these could never be expected from anyone else under such dire circumstances.
O Devi, I will convey the essence of our conversation — both its words and its spirit — to Rama. Trust me, it was only with the hope of pleasing you and Rama, and out of a desire for swift action, that I suggested you ride on my shoulder. The urgency to free you from captivity compelled me to seek an immediate solution and reunite you with your Lord.
Though Lanka is heavily fortified and the ocean vast and perilous, I am fully capable of carrying you safely. My sole intention was to aid your reunion with Rama, born from my devotion and sincere heart. But your response, rooted in virtue and grace, surpasses all standards of honor and decorum.
O, flawless Sita! Please give me some token that I can take to Rama as proof of this meeting.”
With tears filling her lotus-like eyes, Sita said:
“Tell Rama of this shared memory. On Mount Chitrakuta, in the eastern slopes where celestial beings and sages dwell, the landscape is adorned with blooming flowers, sweet fruits, and crystal-clear waters from streams cascading down the heights.
One day, after bathing, wearing wet clothes, you sat beside me. Suddenly, a crow began to peck at me. I tried to drive it away with handfuls of mud, but it returned, pecking fiercely and wounding my skin. As I struggled to keep my saree intact and adjust my waistband, you smiled mischievously, embraced me, and I rested in your lap.
But the crow returned, tearing into my skin again. Seeing my discomfort, Rama picked up a blade of grass, sanctified it with a divine Astra, and released it at the crow. Chased by the divine weapon, the crow sought refuge from many sages and celestial beings, but none could help. Finally, on Indra’s advice, it sought refuge in Rama. The Lord, merciful as ever, agreed to spare its life but demanded that it give up the eye it had used to harm me.
The crow, with folded hands, bowed to Rama and Dasaratha, and was finally allowed to leave.
Rama, you used a divine weapon against a mere crow for causing me minor injury. How then will you forgive Ravana — who has stolen your very life force and held me captive in this dreadful land? O Rama, your compassion is unmatched, yet your fury scorches your enemies. You taught me that kindness is the greatest virtue — and now, in your absence, I suffer as an orphan in this demon-infested world.
You are strong, fearless, and as deep as the ocean. The king of the earth and the seas, rivaling even Indra in might, now is the time to demonstrate your greatness. Let the world witness your skill in wielding divine weapons. No Yaksha, Gandharva, Naga, or demon can match your speed in battle.
Let heroic Rama unleash his divine might upon this land. Let Lakshmana, the mighty scion of strength, who stands like fire beside the wind of Rama, strike swiftly and without mercy. The two brothers, as brilliant and unstoppable as Vayu and Agni — should not delay.
Is it my misfortune that I remain a captive here, despite such immense strength behind me?”
Sita, her voice trembling, moved Hanuman with her sorrow. He replied gently:
“O divine Sita! Rama too is in agony, tormented by your absence. I swear by truth — he is equally disturbed. Lakshmana’s grief for both of you is profound and cannot be measured.
This is not the time for sorrow. By the grace of the gods, I have found you. I assure you, your liberation is near. Rama and Lakshmana are eager to see you again and to reduce Lanka to ashes. Only smoke and rubble will remain of this cursed land.
Genuine and pure-hearted Sita, Rama will slay Ravana and his evil kin, and restore you to Ayodhya with the honor you deserve.
Please, tell me all you wish me to convey to Rama, Lakshmana, Sugriva, and the other noble warriors. The virtuous Rama, son of Kausalya, will receive your message with a bowed head and folded hands.
Give my respects to Lakshmana, the noble son of Sumitra, who gave up luxury, comfort, and royal pleasures to embrace the harsh life of exile for the sake of his brother. His loyalty is beyond compare. With lion-like features and majesty, Lakshmana has always treated me as a mother and Rama as his father.
He did not know Ravana would abduct me, but his reverence for elders and steadfast faith shone bright. He speaks little, but understands much. He is my favorite, and he completes any task given to him without hesitation. Rama is not broken by his father’s death only because Lakshmana constantly shares in his emotions.
Please, tell Lakshmana of the limited time I now have, as declared by Ravana. His role is vital in removing this threat.
Speak the truth — let Rama and Lakshmana punish the wicked Ravana and take me back with honor, just as Indra once rescued Lakshmi from demon captivity.
Then, Sita untied a knot in her saree and handed Hanuman a head ornament. ‘Give this to Rama,’ she said.
Hanuman received it reverently and preserved it with great care. Circumambulating Sita with folded hands, he stood silently in awe. The son of Vayu was transported into divine joy, his heart soaring to Rama even as he remained physically present. Holding Sita’s ornament filled him with renewed strength and serenity.
He felt certain that his energy would not falter until he stood before Rama again.
A crucial moment had arrived — the link between Sita and Rama was now re-established. The path was clear for war, justice, and the restoration of balance in the universe.
