Hanumān, blessed with fortune and resplendence, gazed upon the most splendid abode of the Rākṣasas and made his way toward the residence of their king, Rāvaṇa. This formidable palace was encircled by mighty elephants—some with four tusks, others with three—roaming freely, yet vigilantly guarded by warriors armed with powerful weapons. Within, the palace teemed with Rāvaṇa’s wives and rākṣasī women, and was surrounded by royal maidens who had been brought there by force. The grounds themselves were alive with strange and fearsome creatures: crocodiles, makaras, and monstrous fish filled the waters, all stirred by the restless wind, making the place resemble an ocean inhabited by serpents. Such was the splendor of Rāvaṇa’s residence that it rivaled the fortune of Vaiśravaṇa, the moon, and Garuḍa; that same unfailing glory resided here, ever delightful and radiant. At the very heart of this palace, Hanumān beheld another grand and well-crafted mansion, designed with many exits. There stood the celestial aerial car, Puṣpaka, built by Viśvakarman for Brahmā himself, adorned with every manner of jewel. Through great austerity, Kubera had once received this marvel from the Grandfather; but by his own power, Rāvaṇa, lord of the Rākṣasas, had taken it from Kubera. The mansion was supported by columns of pure gold and silver, expertly fashioned and decorated with images of deer in graceful poses, shimmering as if ablaze with light. All around, splendid pavilions adorned the structure, making it rival the grandeur of Mount Meru and Mandara, as though it reached up to touch the sky. Crafted by Viśvakarman, it shone like fire and the sun, with golden stairways and beautiful, excellent altars. Latticed windows of gold and crystal graced its sides, and altars of sapphire and great blue gems sparkled within. The entire palace glowed with wondrous coral, priceless jewels, and unmatched pearls, shining everywhere like the open palm of a hand. Its air was perfumed with red sandalwood and golden incense, fragrant with auspicious scents, shining with the brilliance of the young sun. Adorned on all sides with splendid pavilions, Hanumān, the great monkey, ascended the celestial Puṣpaka chariot. Standing there, he took in the pervasive fragrance of food, drink, and sacred offerings. The divine, blended aroma was like a gentle, beautiful breeze, so welcoming and familiar it seemed as if a dear friend had come to greet him. As he inhaled this powerful and pleasing scent, Hanumān felt himself drawn onward, as though called with the words, “Come this way.” He proceeded to the place where Rāvaṇa himself resided, and there he beheld a great and auspicious hall. This hall, belonging to Rāvaṇa, was as radiant as a beloved woman, its steps adorned with jewels and its lattices shining with gold. The floor was covered with crystal, gleaming like the spaces between teeth, and decorated with pearls, diamonds, coral, silver, and gold. Many pillars of jewels rose high, all beautifully adorned, equal in height and straightness, encircling the hall. The pillars soared like wings, as if they would ascend to heaven, while a great carpet spread across the floor, marked with the signs of the earth. The hall itself was expansive as the earth, filled with houses and districts, alive with the songs of intoxicated birds and perfumed with divine scents. Costly coverings adorned the space, and the lord of the rākṣasas himself was served within. The hall was as pure and white as a swan, its air scented with the smoky fragrance of agarwood incense. Offerings of leaves and flowers, radiant and mottled, delighted the mind and senses with their vibrant colors. This divine hall dispelled sorrow and generated prosperity, satisfying all five senses with their highest delights. Cared for by Rāvaṇa, it nourished its inhabitants like a mother. Hanumān wondered to himself, “Is this heaven, the world of the gods, perhaps even Indra’s city, or the highest attainment?” While pondering thus, Hanumān noticed golden lamps illuminating the hall, their brilliance mingling with the radiance of Rāvaṇa and the gleam of countless ornaments, so that it seemed the hall itself was ablaze. Then Hanumān saw, seated upon carpets, a thousand noble women, adorned in garments and garlands of every color, each decorated in her own unique attire. At midnight, when half the night had passed, they lay overcome by drink and sleep, their games forgotten, immersed in deep slumber. The sleeping assembly shone in silence, as serene as swans and bees resting in a vast lotus pond. Hanumān beheld their mouths, fragrant as lotuses, their teeth closed and eyes gently shut—these were the faces of beautiful women. As the night waned, their faces resembled blooming lotuses; and as the petals closed once more, they returned to their nocturnal repose. Hanumān thought, “These lotus-like faces must surely be sought again and again by intoxicated bees, just as bees return to blooming lotuses.” Thus, the illustrious Hanumān reasoned that these women were as lovely as those born of the waters. The hall, adorned by their presence, shone for him like the clear autumn sky adorned with stars. Surrounded by these women, Rāvaṇa himself gleamed like the radiant lord of the stars encircled by his stellar retinue. Hanumān reflected, “These here, gathered together, are like stars that have fallen from the sky, surrounded by the remnants of merit.” Just as the light, color, and radiance of great, auspicious stars are clearly seen, so too did the luster and beauty of these women shine forth. With loosened hair and garlands, their precious ornaments scattered about, their minds overcome by sleep after drinking and sport, they lay there in tranquil repose.