With his two mighty arms, the lord of the Rākṣasas lay there, his form massive as a mountain, shining in the hall like Mandara with its twin peaks. The air around him was fragrant, mingling the sweet scents of mango and campaka blossoms, the finest bakula, and the rich aromas of exquisite foods and drinks. As he slept, the breath from his great mouth, the mouth of the king of the Rākṣasas, seemed to fill the entire house with its presence. He was adorned with a crown, splendid with pearls and radiant jewels, which sat slightly askew upon his head, his face aglow with the brilliance of shining earrings. His broad chest, smeared with red sandalwood and adorned with a beautiful necklace, stood out in majesty. Covering his wounded side was pale, scattered silk, and he was wrapped in a costly yellow upper garment. His breathing was deep and resonant, like a serpent's, and his dark form, resembling a heap of black beans, lay at the edge of the great Ganges, like a sleeping elephant. All around him, four golden lamps illuminated the space, making his body glow like a raincloud lit by flashes of lightning. At his feet, the beloved wives of that great-souled lord of the Rākṣasas rested, cherished by their husband, within his splendid house. Their faces shone like the moon, adorned with splendid earrings, their garlands and ornaments fresh and unwithered—such was the vision beheld by Hanuman, the monkey chief. He saw these women, skilled in dance and music, seated on the arms of the king of the Rākṣasas, adorned with fine ornaments, now resting in slumber. At the ends of their ears were earrings and armlets of gold, set with diamonds and cat’s-eye gems. With their faces like the moon, adorned with lovely earrings, the palace itself shone as if it were the sky filled with stars. Exhausted by wine and play, these slender-waisted women lay asleep in various places. One, skilled in dance, her limbs gracefully arranged, her beautiful form displayed, lay radiant in her fine complexion. Another, embracing a lute, slept shining like a lotus drifting on a great river, clinging to a raft. A third, dark-eyed, lay with a drum at her side, resembling a loving mother with her child. Another beautiful-limbed woman, having set aside her drum, lay as if a passionate lover, after long union, embraces her beloved. One lotus-eyed woman, embracing her lute, slept as a woman would after her desires had been fulfilled, holding her dearest beloved. Another, devoted to the art of dance, holding her vipanchī, had fallen asleep like a radiant woman with her lover. Yet another, her eyes intoxicated, lay with her limbs gently resting on a shining golden drum. A slender-waisted, blameless woman, exhausted by intoxication, slept with a small drum held between her arms and at her side. Another, attached to her drum, embraced it as a radiant woman would her young calf. A lotus-eyed woman, her mind deluded by intoxication, lay asleep, her arms crushing a tambourine. Another radiant woman, having cast aside her pitcher, slept like a garlanded creeper in spring, adorned with fresh flowers. One young woman, overcome by sleep, lay embracing her breasts with both hands, which were like golden pitchers. Another, lotus-eyed, with a face like the full moon, embraced a shapely-hipped companion, both overwhelmed by intoxication. Noble women, embracing various musical instruments, slept pressing them to their breasts, as lovers do their beloveds. Among these women, lying apart on a splendid couch, Hanuman then saw a woman of surpassing beauty. Adorned with ornaments set with pearls and gems, she seemed to add her own radiance to the already splendid palace. There, Hanuman beheld Mandodari, fair as gold, the cherished queen of the inner chambers, lying in beauty. Seeing her adorned, the mighty-armed son of the wind thought to himself, “This must be Sita,” judging by her beauty, youth, and grace. Filled with joy, Hanuman rejoiced—he clapped, kissed his tail, played, sang, leapt, climbed pillars, and fell to the ground, displaying the playful nature of monkeys. Thus concludes the tenth chapter. Now, let the eleventh chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Sundara Kāṇḍa, be heard. Having set aside his earlier thought, the great monkey Hanuman composed himself and entered into another reflection concerning Sita. He reasoned that this radiant lady, separated from Rama, would not wish to sleep, nor to eat, nor to adorn herself, nor to partake of drink. She would not approach any other man, not even a lord among the gods, for there is truly no one among the immortals equal to Rama. Concluding, “This is another,” Hanuman, eager to find Sita, wandered further into that hall of drinking. He saw some women exhausted from play, others from singing, others from dancing, and some overcome by wine. Some stood by drums and cymbals, and on platforms for jesting, while others reclined on the chief couches.