As Hanuman approached the city of Lanka, his keen eyes took in the wondrous sights before him. He saw trees laden with blossoms, some still in bud, their crowns gently stirred by the wind, with birds perched and flitting among the branches. Nearby lay serene ponds, filled with swans and cranes, their surfaces adorned with blooming lotuses and water lilies—delightful playgrounds surrounded by various reservoirs. The mighty monkey gazed upon gardens resplendent with trees that bore fruit and flowers in every season, their beauty ever-renewed. Drawing closer, Hanuman beheld splendid Lanka itself, ruled by Ravana, encircled by moats brimming with lotuses and water lilies. Since Sita’s abduction, this city had been fiercely guarded by rakshasas, who roamed its perimeters with menacing bows. Lanka’s grandeur was breathtaking: a golden wall encircled the city, within which houses rose like mountains, their shapes reminiscent of autumn clouds. Tall, pale avenues ran through the city, lined with hundreds of towers, all bright with fluttering banners and flags. Hanuman saw divine golden gateways and cascading rows of vines, making Lanka shine like the city of the gods. Perched atop a mountain, the city’s pale, splendid buildings seemed to soar into the sky. Built by Vishvakarma, Lanka appeared almost to float among the clouds, protected by the king of the rakshasas. Its ramparts and walls resembled the city’s hips, vast water bodies its garments, while the edges, lined with weapons and towers, served as its ornaments. Reaching the northern gate, Hanuman marveled at Lanka, as if it had been constructed by the mind alone, the work of Vishvakarma. The lofty mansions rose like Kailasa itself, painting the sky and seeming to support the very heavens. The city teemed with fierce rakshasas, like Bhogavati filled with serpents—an inconceivable, well-built, and clear city, once inhabited by Kubera. It was guarded by many rakshasas, armed with spears and pikes, their fangs bared, like a cave protected by venomous serpents. Hanuman observed the city’s formidable defenses and the surrounding ocean, his thoughts turning to Ravana, the dreadful enemy. He pondered, “Even if the monkeys were to come here, their efforts would be fruitless; Lanka cannot be conquered by battle, not even by the gods. Even if mighty-armed Raghava were to reach this impassable, fortified city, guarded by Ravana, what could he possibly do? Among these rakshasas, there is no room for conciliation, gifts, or division, nor even for battle. Only four swift monkeys have a way here: the son of Vali, Nila, myself, and our wise king.” Hanuman resolved, “Until I know whether Vaidehi lives or not, I must search for Janaka’s daughter and then decide what must be done.” Standing on the mountain peak, the elephant among monkeys paused for a moment, reflecting on Rama’s success. He realized, “With this form, I cannot enter the city of the rakshasas, so fiercely guarded by cruel and powerful beings. All these mighty rakshasas must be deceived as I search for Janaki. By making myself visible and invisible, I must enter Lanka at night, at the right moment, to accomplish my great task.” Seeing the city—so formidable and unconquerable even by gods and demons—Hanuman sighed again and again, pondering, “By what means could I see Maithili, Janaka’s daughter, unseen by Ravana, the wicked king of rakshasas? How can Rama’s purpose, who knows himself, not be lost? Alone, I must see Janaka’s daughter in secret. Purposes perish when opposed by place and time, especially if a timid messenger is sent, just as darkness vanishes at sunrise. Even a decision made with discernment between gain and loss is useless if it destroys the intended purpose; messengers who think themselves wise often ruin matters.” He questioned further, “How can this task not be lost? How can faint-heartedness not arise? How can crossing the ocean not be in vain? If I am seen by the demons, this mission will become useless—both for Ravana, who seeks harm, and for Rama, who knows his own self. It is not possible to remain anywhere here without being detected by the demons, not even in the form of a demon—how much less in any other form. Even the wind, I think, could not move here unnoticed; for nothing escapes these demons of terrible deeds. If I remain here in my own form, concealed, I will be destroyed and my master’s purpose will be lost.” Resolving at last, Hanuman thought, “Therefore, I will enter Lanka at night, having assumed a small form, to accomplish Raghava’s purpose. Entering Ravana’s city at night, so difficult to approach, I will search every palace and see the daughter of Janaka.” With his mind made up, Hanuman, eager to see Vaidehi, waited for the sun to set. As night descended and darkness enveloped the land, the son of the wind contracted his mighty body, becoming as small as a cat—a wondrous sight to behold. At twilight, filled with vigor, Hanuman swiftly leapt up and entered the beautiful city of Lanka, its great roads clearly divided, ready to fulfill his sacred mission.