As Hanuman soared across the vast ocean, the great masses of clouds seemed to be drawn along with him, shining brilliantly as he entered and exited their folds again and again. At that moment, Hanuman, the mighty son of the wind, appeared everywhere at once—his radiant form emerging and vanishing like the autumn moon behind drifting clouds. Ascending ever higher, Hanuman reached the unsupported expanse of the sky, resembling a mountain with wings gliding freely above the world. As he floated there, a rakshasi named Simhika, gifted with formidable power and the ability to change her form at will, caught sight of him. Delighting in her opportunity, Simhika thought to herself, “Today, after so long, I shall finally have a meal. This great being has come into my grasp at last.” With that, she seized Hanuman’s shadow. Suddenly, Hanuman felt his strength ebb away, as if something unseen had bound him. “I have been caught!” he realized, “My power is rendered useless.” Like a great ship struggling against the current, driven by the wind upon the sea, Hanuman looked all around—sideways, upward, and downward—seeking the cause of his predicament. Then, he saw her: the immense form of Simhika rising from the salty waters below. Hanuman, ever wise, recalled the words of the monkey king, Sugriva, who had warned of a wondrous being, a mighty shadow-catcher. Now, there was no doubt—this was she. Understanding her true nature, Hanuman expanded his body, growing vast and dark, like a rain-laden autumn cloud. Seeing the monkey’s form swelling to an immense size, Simhika responded by stretching her mouth wide—so wide it seemed to span the sky and the netherworld together. Roaring like a thunderous storm cloud, she rushed at him, her mouth distorted and enormous. Hanuman, wise and vigilant, observed her closely, noting the vital points of her body. Then, contracting himself again and again, he leapt and plunged into her gaping mouth. The Siddhas and Charanas, celestial beings who witnessed the event, saw Hanuman sinking into the darkness, just as Rahu swallows the full moon during its phase. Yet Hanuman was undaunted. Once inside, he tore at her vital points with his razor-sharp nails. With unmatched speed and prowess, guided by fate, courage, and skill, he sprang forth and struck her down. The heroic monkey then grew in size once more, bursting from her body and falling into the troubled waters below. It was as if Hanuman himself had been created by the Self-born Lord for the very purpose of destroying Simhika. The celestial beings, watching from the sky, saw Simhika struck down and fallen by Hanuman’s hand. They praised him, saying, “A terrible deed has been accomplished today—a mighty being has been slain by you. Fulfill the purpose you have set out for, O best among those who leap! O king of monkeys, one who possesses resolve, vision, intelligence, and skill, just as you do, does not falter in any action.” Honored by their words, the venerable Hanuman entered the sky again, soaring like Garuda, the devourer of serpents. Soon, he neared the distant shore and looked all around, catching sight of a stretch of forest at the end of a hundred yojanas. As he descended, the best of the branch-leaping monkeys beheld an island adorned with many kinds of trees and the groves of Mount Malaya. He gazed upon the ocean, the coastal lands, the trees lining the shore, and even the faces of the wives of the ocean. Seeing his own form, vast as a great dark cloud, Hanuman, wise and self-possessed, realized that he seemed to block out the very sky. He thought, “If the rakshasas see my increased size and speed, they will become curious about me.” At once, he contracted his body, returning to his natural form, calm and composed, as one freed from delusion. Now greatly reduced in size, Hanuman traversed the land in three great strides, recalling Hari’s three steps that once deprived Bali of his strength and power. Assuming a charming and various form, he reached the far shore of the ocean. Taking on a shape impossible for others, self-aware and intent on his mission, Hanuman carefully surveyed his surroundings. He landed on the splendid peak of the lofty Lambā mountain, amidst groves of ketaka, udālaka, and coconut trees, his form resembling a mass of clouds. Having reached the ocean’s shore, Hanuman gazed upon Lanka, perched atop the best of mountains. As he landed, he shed his great form, startling the deer and birds that dwelled there. Having crossed the ocean teeming with dānavas and serpents, wreathed in mighty waves, Hanuman stood upon the shore and beheld Lanka—shining like the city of the gods. Now begins the second sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Sundara Kāṇḍa. Having crossed the invincible ocean, the mighty Hanuman stood at ease, gazing upon Lanka on the slope of Mount Trikūṭa. Though he had traversed a hundred yojanas, the illustrious and supremely valiant monkey felt no fatigue, nor did he pant from his journey. He thought to himself, “I could cross hundreds of yojanas, even many more—so what is this measured hundred yojanas across the ocean?” The foremost among the powerful, the best among those who leap, Hanuman sped swiftly to Lanka, crossing the vast expanse of water. Along the way, he passed through green meadows, dark forests fragrant with blossoms, honey-laden woods, and towering mountains. Approaching mountains covered with trees and rows of blossoming forests, Hanuman, radiant and chief among monkeys, finally stood upon a mountain amidst forests and groves, and from there, the son of the wind beheld Lanka, resplendent atop the peak.