Hanuman, the mighty son of the wind, appeared resplendent as he prepared for his great leap—his tail curled in a circle, his shining white fangs gleaming, he looked as radiant as the sun encircled by its halo. His hips glowed a deep red, making him shine like a mountain cleft and streaked with red ochre. As this lion among monkeys launched himself across the vast ocean, the wind that rushed between his sides thundered like the roar of rain-laden clouds. To those who watched, Hanuman seemed like a blazing meteor streaking down from the northern sky, his form trailing a brilliant light. Stretched out in flight and aglow like a flying firebrand, he resembled a massive elephant, its sides bound with a great rope. His immense body and the deep shadow he cast above the waters made him appear like a wind-driven boat, skimming the surface of the ocean, immersed yet unbound. Wherever Hanuman soared above the ocean, the very waters seemed to churn and boil, as if maddened by the force of his limbs. With tremendous speed, he vaulted over the waves, which rose as high as mountains, his leap carrying him from crest to crest. The powerful wind generated by his flight, mingling with the winds from the clouds, shook the ocean, which responded with a terrible roar. As Hanuman sped forward, he dragged the nets of foaming waves behind him, scattering the heavens and the earth as he went, like a tiger among monkeys. With swift strides, he crossed the vast ocean, its waves rising like Mount Meru and Mandara, as if he were counting each one. The water, resounding with his force and filled with clouds, shone in the sky like the spread of autumn clouds. In his wake, sharks, crocodiles, fish, and turtles were exposed, their bodies laid bare as if stripped of their watery coverings. The serpents dwelling in the depths, seeing Hanuman advancing, mistook him for Garuda, the king of birds, soaring through the sky. As he flew, his shadow stretched wide and long—ten yojanas across and thirty yojanas in length—making a beautiful, dark path over the ocean below. His shadow, following close, shone upon the salty waters like a line of dense, white clouds. Hanuman, immense and radiant, seemed to fly unsupported on the path of the wind, like a winged mountain traversing the sky. The ocean beneath him, carved by his swift passage, looked as if it had been hollowed into a trough. As he descended through flocks of birds, Hanuman swept aside masses of clouds, just as the king of birds might, or as the wind scatters the sky. The clouds themselves—white, red, blue, and tinged with madder—glowed as they were drawn along by the speeding monkey. Passing in and out of these clouds, Hanuman appeared now hidden, now revealed, like the moon behind shifting veils. The gods, gandharvas, and charanas, witnessing his wondrous leap, showered flowers from the heavens. The sun did not scorch Hanuman as he flew, and the wind served him faithfully, aiding him in fulfilling Rama’s purpose. The sages praised him as he soared, while gods and gandharvas sang his glory, extolling this dweller of the forest. Nagas, yakshas, and rakshasas, too, marveled at the best of monkeys, seeing him tireless and free from fatigue. As Hanuman, the tiger among monkeys, continued his leap, the ocean itself began to contemplate, wishing to honor the illustrious line of Ikshvaku. The ocean thought, "If I do not assist Hanuman, the lord of monkeys, I will be subject to reproach from all who speak. Sagara, lord of the Ikshvakus, once increased me, and Hanuman is a counselor to the Ikshvakus—he should not be hindered by me." Thus resolved, the ocean decided, "I must act so that the monkey may rest, and, refreshed, he will cross the remainder of his journey happily." With this wise intention, the ocean addressed Mainaka, the best of mountains, who was hidden beneath the waters, his navel gleaming with gold. "O Mainaka," spoke the ocean, "by the decree of the great-souled king of the gods, you have been stationed here as a barrier to the asuras dwelling in the netherworld. Your strength is renowned among them; you stand blocking the entrance to the immeasurable depths, lest they rise again. Your power extends in all directions—across, above, and below. Therefore, best of mountains, I urge you: arise!" "Hanuman, the heroic tiger among monkeys, is now approaching you, leaping through the sky for Rama’s purpose. It is my duty, and yours, to assist him, for the Ikshvakus are to be revered by us both. Render your help, so our task is not hindered, for a duty left undone stirs the anger of the virtuous. Rise from the water and let this monkey stand upon you; he is our honored guest, foremost among those who leap. With your golden peaks, served by gods and gandharvas, let Hanuman rest upon you, and then he will continue his journey." "Consider the compassion of Kakutstha, the exile of Sita, and the toil of the monkey chief—these are reasons enough for you to rise up." Hearing these words, Mainaka, crowned with golden peaks and covered with great trees and vines, swiftly rose from the salty waters, ready to offer his support to Hanuman.