Among the brave monkeys gathered on the shore, only four possessed the power to cross the vast ocean: Angada, the son of Vali; the valiant Nila; Hanuman himself; and their wise king Sugriva. As Hanuman prepared for his mission, his heart was set on discovering whether Vaidehi—Sita, the daughter of Janaka—was still alive. He resolved to search until he could see her with his own eyes. Standing atop the mountain peak, Hanuman, the mighty “elephant among monkeys,” paused to consider how he might bring success to Rama’s cause. He pondered deeply, knowing that with his present, immense form, he could not hope to enter the city of the rakshasas, for it was guarded by cruel and powerful demons. All the rakshasas, mighty and energetic, must be outwitted if he was to find Janaki. Hanuman realized that he would need to move between being seen and unseen, and that night would be the right time to enter Lanka, so as to accomplish the great task before him. Gazing at the city—so formidable, unconquerable even by gods and demons—Hanuman sighed, pondering again and again. He wondered, “By what means can I see Maithili, Janaka’s daughter, without being detected by Ravana, the wicked king of the rakshasas?” He was determined that Rama’s purpose should not be lost, and that he must see Sita in secret, alone. He reflected that efforts are destroyed by unfavorable place and time, or by a timid messenger, just as darkness is dispelled at sunrise. Even decisions made with discernment between gain and loss are worthless if they destroy the intended purpose; indeed, messengers who think themselves wise can ruin everything. Hanuman asked himself, “How can I keep the task from being lost? How can I avoid faint-heartedness? Shall my crossing of the ocean be in vain?” He knew that if the demons saw him, the mission would become useless for both Ravana, who sought harm, and for Rama, who knows his own self. It was impossible to remain anywhere in Lanka without being detected by the demons, even if he took on a demonic form—how much less in any other guise! Indeed, even the wind, Hanuman thought, could not move there unnoticed, for nothing escaped the attention of those terrible rakshasas. If he remained in his own form, hidden, he would surely be destroyed, and his master’s purpose would be lost. Therefore, Hanuman resolved to enter Lanka at night, assuming a small and subtle form, to accomplish Raghava’s purpose. He would enter Ravana’s city by night, difficult as it was to approach, and search every palace to find the daughter of Janaka. Having thus resolved, Hanuman, eager to see Vaidehi, waited for the sun to set. As darkness fell and night descended, Hanuman, son of the Wind, contracted his body until he was the size of a cat—wondrous to behold. At twilight, full of vigor, he leapt up and entered the beautiful city, its great roads clearly marked. Lanka dazzled his eyes: rows of palaces with golden pillars and lattices shining like refined gold, the city rivaled the splendor of the Gandharvas’ realm. He saw great mansions rising seven and eight stories high, their floors inlaid with crystal and decorated with gold, adorned with intricate patterns of beryl gems and strings of pearls. The rakshasas’ golden gateways illuminated Lanka on all sides. Beholding Lanka, so inconceivable and marvelous in form, Hanuman felt both despondency and delight, his heart eager to find Vaidehi. He saw the city adorned with white-towered palaces, golden gateways, and renowned fortifications, all guarded by Ravana’s mighty arms and by night-wandering demons of terrible strength. Even the moon, shining among the stars, seemed to rise as Lanka’s companion, casting a veil of moonlight over the world. Hanuman gazed at the moon, radiant as a conch, white as milk or the fiber of a lotus, rising and glowing like a swan lifting itself from a lake. Then, Hanuman, the wise son of the Wind, took on a subtle form and stood atop a lofty peak, tall as a hanging raincloud. The mighty monkey entered Lanka at night—a city rich with lovely groves and waters, ruled by Ravana. He saw the city, well-defended and flourishing, adorned with leafy trees, beautiful gateways, and pale-white doors and arches. Guarded and splendid, like the city of the serpents, Lanka was filled with winding paths and covered with clouds streaked with lightning, attended by hosts of stars. The city resounded with the roar of fierce winds, like Amaravati itself, and was encircled by a great wall of shining gold. Adorned with banners and the jingling of tiny bells, Hanuman, delighted, swiftly approached and leapt over the rampart. His heart filled with wonder as he gazed all around at the city, with its golden doors and platforms made of cat’s-eye gems. The floors were decorated with diamonds, crystal, and pearls, with corridors of refined gold and shining, pure silver. There were stairways made of cat’s-eye gems, with crystal dust between the steps, and beautiful, swift-moving walkways that seemed to rise into the sky. The city echoed with the calls of cranes and peacocks, graced by royal swans, and was filled with the sounds of music and ornaments. Thus, Hanuman entered the wondrous city of Lanka, his resolve unshaken, his heart set on finding Sita for the sake of Rama.