With unwavering resolve, Hanumān spoke before the assembled monkeys, his voice brimming with confidence and power. “As I set forth,” he declared, “I shall cover the sky, as if swallowing the very firmament itself. I will scatter the clouds, shake the mountains, and, with a mighty leap, dry up the ocean beneath me. None but Garuḍa, the king of birds, or the mighty Wind himself could hope to follow me as I soar across the vast expanse. In the mere blink of an eye, I shall descend through the unsupported sky, swift and sudden as lightning bursting forth from a cloud. “As I leap across the ocean, my form will resemble that of Viṣṇu when he took his three great strides. My mind is steadfast, my intellect clear—know this: I will find Vaidehī. Rejoice, O monkeys! My speed matches that of the Wind, my swiftness rivals Garuḍa; I am determined to cross the ten thousand yojanas that lie before me. Even if Indra, wielder of the thunderbolt, or Brahmā, the self-born, stood before me, I would seize the nectar from their very hands. My resolve is such that I could even lift up Lanka itself and carry it away!” Thus Hanumān, the foremost among monkeys, roared, his brilliance immeasurable. The other monkeys gazed at him in wonder, their hearts lifted by his bold words, their sorrow dispelled. Jāmbavān, lord among the monkeys, spoke with great delight: “O heroic son of Keśarī, swift one, son of the Wind! By your strength, the sorrow of your kinsmen has been lifted. The foremost monkeys, radiant with auspiciousness, are gathered here for your sake. Intent on fulfilling our purpose, we will perform auspicious acts, guided by the favor of the sages and the counsel of our elders. By their blessing, you must cross the vast ocean, and we shall stand on one foot until your return. “All our lives depend upon your success,” Jāmbavān continued, addressing the assembly. Then Hanumān, the tiger among monkeys, spoke to his kin: “No one in the world can match my speed in leaping. These very peaks, full of rocks and cliffs, the stable and great summits of Mahendra, will bear my speed as I launch myself from their heights. Scattered with various trees and shining ores, these summits will support my leap for a hundred yojanas from here.” With that, Hanumān, son of the Wind, ascended the best of mountains, Mahendra—the crusher of enemies. The mountain’s slopes were adorned with many flowers, its meadows frequented by deer, crowded with blossoming creepers, and trees ever laden with flowers and fruits. Lions and tigers prowled its heights, intoxicated elephants roamed, flocks of excited birds filled the air with their calls, and clear springs flowed everywhere. Hanumān, equal in valor to the mountain itself, wandered its lofty peaks. As his mighty feet pressed down, Mahendra roared like an elephant struck by lions. Streams of water gushed forth, rocks tumbled, frightened deer and elephants fled, and great trees shook. Gandharva couples, rough from drink, scattered; birds took flight, and even groups of Vidyādharas departed. The vast plateaus emptied, great serpents hid, and the mountain’s peaks and rocks were upheaved. Serpents, half-emerged and exhaling, made the mountain appear as if adorned with fluttering banners. Terrified sages abandoned its rocky heights, and the mountain seemed to sink into the wilderness, like a traveler bereft of his companions. Hanumān, his mind united with purpose and speed, the destroyer of enemy heroes, fixed his thoughts on Lanka. Inwardly, he journeyed there already, his will unwavering. Thus begins the glorious Sundara Kāṇḍa of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Hanumān, eager to accomplish a deed beyond compare, stood tall, his head and neck raised like the lord of cattle. He wandered at ease among green meadows that shone like cat’s-eye gems and mirrored the sheen of water. As he moved, birds scattered, trees broke beneath his chest, and many animals fled before him—he strode like a grown lion. The mountain was adorned with pure minerals of blue, red, madder, and lotus hues—both white and black, naturally formed and spotless. It was inhabited by shape-shifters and their retinues—Yakṣas, Kinnaras, Gandharvas, godlike beings, and serpents. There, at the base of Mahendra, surrounded by noble serpents, Hanumān stood, resembling a serpent coiled in a pool. With reverence, he joined his palms and offered salutations to the Sun, to Indra, to the Wind, to the Self-born, and to the elements. He set his mind on departure. Facing east, joining his hands to the Wind and the Self-born, he prepared to leap southward, intent on his mission. The foremost monkeys watched as Hanumān, resolved to leap, grew in size for Rāma’s purpose, swelling like the ocean at the time of the tide. His body became immeasurable. Wishing to cross the ocean in a single bound, he pressed down on the mountain with his arms and feet. The mountain, feeling his power, shook for a moment, and all the blossoming treetops shed their flowers in a fragrant shower.