Even when a decision is made with careful discernment between gain and loss, Hanuman thought, it does not bring true brilliance if it destroys the very purpose for which it was made. Messengers who consider themselves wise, yet act without true understanding, only bring ruin to their missions. How, then, could the task be accomplished? How could faint-heartedness be avoided? And what would be the use of crossing the ocean if the mission failed? Hanuman reflected deeply: If I am seen by the demons, this mission will be lost—lost both for Ravana, who seeks harm, and for Rama, who knows his own true Self. It is not possible to remain anywhere in Lanka without being detected by these demons—not even if I take the form of a demon myself, let alone any other guise. In my estimation, even the wind could not pass here unnoticed, for nothing escapes the knowledge of these terrible rakshasas. If I remain here in my own form, trying to hide, I will only bring about my own destruction, and the purpose of my master will be lost. Therefore, Hanuman resolved, I will enter Lanka at night, taking on a small and subtle form, to accomplish the purpose of Raghava. Entering Ravana’s city at night—a city most difficult to approach—I will search every palace and find the daughter of Janaka. Having thus resolved, Hanuman, the monkey, eager to see Vaidehi, waited for the sun to set. When evening came and darkness spread, the son of the Wind contracted his vast form, becoming the size of a cat—wondrous to behold. At twilight, Hanuman, filled with vigor, leapt up and entered the beautiful city, its great roads clearly marked and divided. He gazed upon Lanka, adorned with rows of palaces whose pillars shone like gold, with lattices resembling refined gold, making the city resemble the fabled city of the Gandharvas. He saw towering mansions of seven and eight stories, their floors inlaid with crystal and decorated with gold. Intricate patterns of beryl gems and strings of pearls adorned these rakshasa dwellings, shining in myriad ways. The golden gateways of the demons illuminated Lanka on all sides, resplendent in their adornment. Seeing Lanka—of inconceivable and marvelous form—Hanuman’s heart was filled with both despondency and delight, for he longed to see Vaidehi. He saw the city adorned with white-towered palaces and gateways of precious gold, renowned and well-guarded by Ravana’s mighty arms, and protected by fierce night-wandering rakshasas. Even the moon, shining among the stars, seemed to accompany the city, spreading a veil of cool moonlight over the worlds. Hanuman, the foremost of monkeys, saw the moon rise, glowing white as milk or lotus fiber, radiant as a conch, like a swan lifting itself from a clear lake. Now let the third chapter be heard. Hanuman, the wise son of the Wind, took on a subtle form and stood atop a lofty peak, as tall as a hanging raincloud. There, that mighty monkey entered Lanka at night—a city rich with lovely groves and waters, ruled by the mighty Ravana. He saw the city, well-defended and flourishing in strength, adorned with leafy trees, beautiful gateways, and pale-white doors and arches. Guarded and splendid like the city of the serpents, Lanka was covered with clouds flashing lightning and attended by hosts of stars. The city resounded with the roar of fierce winds, shining like Amaravati itself, encircled by a great wall of gleaming 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. Its 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 walkways that seemed to rise into the sky. The city echoed with the calls of cranes and peacocks, graced by royal swans, and filled with the sounds of music and ornaments. Seeing that city, rivaling the wealth of the gods, Hanuman rejoiced, beholding Lanka as if it had risen into the sky. Observing that splendid city of the king of the rakshasas, unrivaled and prosperous, Hanuman began to reflect: No one could conquer this city by force, guarded as it is by Ravana’s armed troops. This land could become renowned only for heroes like Kumuda, Angada, the great monkey Sushena, or the famous Mainda and Dvivida. Or for Vivasvat’s son, for Hari’s son Kushaparvana, for Riksha the monkey chief, or for myself as a path to glory. And, recalling the might of great-armed Rama and the valor of Lakshmana, Hanuman was filled with joy. He saw the city adorned with jeweled garments, crowned with the mark of the cattle-house, her walls smeared with fragrant unguents, embellished like a decorated woman. The darkness of Lanka was dispelled by lamps and by the brilliance of the great planets. But as Hanuman entered, the city itself seemed to awaken. Lanka, ruled by Ravana, perceiving the tiger among monkeys, the mighty Hanuman, son of the Wind, entering within her walls, rose up before him—displaying a terrifying face.