After an intense and eloquent appeal by Vibhishana, Ravana, the mighty king of Lanka, reluctantly relented from his initial decision to execute the monkey messenger they had captured. In a lighter mood, he acknowledged,
“Your argument, Vibhishana, deserves thought. The tradition of sparing emissaries has been well illustrated by your examples. I shall not take his life.”
Yet, Ravana’s pride remained untamed.
“But an aggressor must not be left unpunished. If we show leniency, others may dare invade our land without cause. A message must be sent. I shall decide a punishment in line with your sentiment, yet one that upholds our dignity.”
He pondered for a moment and then declared,
“The monkeys hold their tail in high regard, almost like a crown. Let us burn his tail and send him back in disgrace—with a scorched, stubby tail. Let him return to his kin in shame, mocked and humiliated. Parade him through the royal avenues, so all may see the punishment of a spy.”
With that, Ravana left the court.
The ruthless demons, at their king’s command, wrapped Hanuman’s long tail with old rags soaked in oil. Calmly, the son of Vayu observed them, already discerning his next move. As the flames rose, licking the oiled cloth, Hanuman’s fury flared within. His form radiated with divine glow, like the early sun at dawn.
Crowds of demons gathered—men, women, and children—to watch the spectacle. They jeered and laughed, eager for entertainment. The guards bound Hanuman with ropes, striking and kicking him with cruel glee.
But Hanuman remained composed.
“These feeble ropes are nothing to me,” he thought. “I could break free and fly away. These demons lack the strength to hold me. I could destroy them all. Yet I am here on Rama’s mission, sent by Sugreeva. It is not my place to retaliate. These creatures are merely following their king’s command. Rama does not seek destruction without cause.”
Knowing the parade would take him through Lanka’s streets, Hanuman chose to endure.
“This is an opportunity. I saw the city by night—now I shall study it by day.”
Though the flames danced upon his tail, his mind remained unshaken. The demons celebrated, sounding trumpets and beating drums, declaring his punishment and calling him a spy. Through Lanka’s streets they paraded him—past grand palaces and narrow alleys, through royal avenues and hidden passages, all adorned splendidly.
Meanwhile, the entire episode reached the ears of Sita. One of the demonesses cruelly reported,
“A great red-faced monkey is being dragged through the streets. His tail is being burnt!”
Sita, her heart sinking, remembered the agony she had felt when Ravana abducted her. She closed her eyes and prayed to Agni, the fire god.
“O Agni, by my purity and virtue, I implore you—harm not this noble soul. Save Hanuman, who has come in Rama’s service. Let my righteousness protect him, and may your flames spare the pious messenger.”
A sudden cool breeze passed through, and Sita sensed her prayer had been heard. Though the fire blazed fiercely, it caused Hanuman no pain. The flames seemed as gentle as ice. Surprised, Hanuman mused,
“Though the fire rages, it does not scorch me. Is this Agni’s grace? Or the blessings of Sita? Perhaps the gods—like Vayu, my father, and the Ocean God who aided me before—are watching over me.”
In that moment, he broke free of his bonds with a roar that shook Lanka. The bystanders, once amused, now trembled in fear. Hanuman leapt to the palace gate, grew in size like a mountain, seized the iron latch, and struck down the guards with a whirl of fury. His tail, now a flaming banner, blazed like the sun.
He charged through the royal paths, demolishing guards and shattering palace gates. The palaces that once gleamed with splendour now stood vulnerable before the storm that was Hanuman. In his blazing form, he resolved to teach Ravana and his people a lesson they would never forget.
Though his mission was one of peace, the demon king had not taken heed. Hanuman knew then that fear alone could shake the pride of Lanka. It was time to strike dread into their hearts—a warning of what awaited if harm came to Sita.
The son of Vayu, armed with courage, wisdom, and divine purpose, was ready. The gates of Lanka would now open not for a parade—but for a blaze of terror and the beginning of Ravana’s doom.
