Within Ravana’s splendid palace, Hanuman beheld a scene of extravagant disorder. Great anklets and armlets lay cast aside, treasures were scattered, and drinking vessels had been overturned amidst an abundance of various fruits. The earth itself seemed to glow, adorned with tributes of flowers and shining with abundant splendor. Beds and seats, well-arranged and joined, stood here and there, testifying to recent revelry. The drinking hall, though without a fire, seemed to radiate its own light, illuminated by the presence of many kinds of choice delicacies and expertly prepared meats, all set apart on the floor. Divine liquors, clear and varied, including those specially brewed, were present in abundance. There were wines made from sugar, honey, flowers, and fruits, and perfumed powders of many kinds, each carefully and finely arranged. Garlands were spread everywhere, adorning the ground, mingled with golden vessels and crystal dishes. Other goblets of gold, shining silver pitchers, and golden jars further enhanced the splendor. As Hanuman surveyed the scene, he saw golden cups and vessels of liquor fashioned from jewels—some full, some half-emptied, some drained completely. There were untouched drinks, various foods in different places, and some vessels only partially used. Beds appeared with only half their covers remaining, as if abandoned in haste. Elsewhere, the beds of women were empty, while in some places beautiful women slept, embracing each other. One woman, having taken another’s garment in her arms, had fallen into deep sleep, overcome by weariness. The gentle breath of these women softly stirred their garments and garlands, barely moving them, as if caressed by a mild breeze. The air was heavy with fragrances—of sandalwood, sweet liquors, garlands, and countless flowers—carried by the wind, mingled with scents from baths and incense. The Pushpaka palace was filled with these aromas, and Hanuman saw women of many kinds: some dark, some fair, some with radiant black complexions, and some with limbs shining like gold. Overcome by sleep and passion, they lay stupefied, resembling sleeping lotuses in their beauty and repose. Thus, Hanuman, radiant and resolute, gazed upon all the inner chambers of Ravana. Yet, nowhere did he see Janaki. As he observed these women, a great anxiety seized him, and he was troubled by fear of wrongdoing. “To gaze upon the sleeping women of another’s harem,” he thought, “is surely a grave breach of righteousness. Never before have I let my sight dwell on the wives of others with desire, yet here I have witnessed the possessions of another.” A new thought arose in Hanuman’s steadfast mind, discerning the right path: “Indeed, I have seen all of Ravana’s women, unguarded as they are, but not even in my mind has any distortion arisen. For the mind is the cause of all the senses’ activity, whether auspicious or inauspicious—and mine is well-disciplined. Nowhere else can I search for Vaidehi, for when seeking, women are always found among women. One searches for a being where it was born; it is not possible to seek a lost woman among deer.” Thus, with a pure mind, Hanuman searched the entire inner palace of Ravana, but Janaki was nowhere to be found. He looked upon the daughters of gods, Gandharvas, and Nagas, but Sita did not appear among them. Though he saw many noble women, he did not see her. Withdrawing from the grand hall, the heroic monkey prepared to search elsewhere. Striving in every way, the illustrious son of the wind left the drinking hall and began his search anew. Standing in the midst of the palace, Hanuman moved through vine-covered houses, painted chambers, and night-halls, eager to see Sita, but she was nowhere to be found. Then, the great monkey, not seeing the beloved of the descendant of Raghu, despaired: “Surely Sita is not here, for though I search everywhere, Maithili does not appear before me. Janaki, steadfast in virtue, must have been slain by this wicked one, the foremost among Rakshasas, for she stood firm on the noble path.” He considered the wives of the king of the Rakshasas—hideous, deformed, monstrous in appearance, with dreadful forms—and thought, “Out of fear, the daughter of Janaka must have perished.” Having failed to find Sita and accomplish his task, Hanuman lamented: “Much time has been spent with the monkeys in vain. I have no way to return to Sugriva, the strict and powerful monkey king. I have seen the entire inner palace and the wives of Ravana, but the virtuous Sita is not seen; my effort has been in vain.” He wondered anxiously, “What will all the gathered monkeys say when I return? ‘O hero, go there and tell us what you have done.’ How can I speak to them without having seen Janaka’s daughter? Surely, I will undertake a fast unto death as time passes. What will the elder Jāmbavān and Aṅgada say, and the assembled monkeys, when I have crossed the ocean and returned?” Thus, Hanuman, his heart heavy and his mind troubled, pondered his next steps, standing alone amidst the splendor and sorrow of Ravana’s palace.