Hanuman, mighty and resolute, gazed upon the wondrous forest before him—a place alive with flocks of birds and herds of deer, its beauty radiant as the rising sun. The forest teemed with a dazzling array of trees, all heavy with blossoms and fruits, and the air was ever alive with the melodious calls of cuckoos and the humming of intoxicated black bees. At that perfect hour, the garden burst with vibrant life. Joyful people moved about, birds and animals stirred with excitement, and the cries of peacocks—drunk on the sweetness of the season—mingled with the calls of countless other birds. As Hanuman searched for Sita, the blameless princess of noble form, his movements roused the sleeping birds from their peaceful slumber. Startled, flocks took wing, their beating feathers stirring the air, and from above, showers of colorful flowers rained down in a cascade. Covered with these blossoms, Hanuman, the son of the Wind, shone amidst the aśoka grove like a living mountain of flowers. His swift passage through the clusters of trees in every direction led all the creatures to believe that spring itself had arrived. The earth, strewn with fallen flowers of every kind, glittered like a woman adorned for a grand festival. The great trees, their leafy crowns shaken and their flowers and fruits scattered, resembled courtesans who, defeated, had cast aside their garments and ornaments. Hanuman’s powerful movements caused the trees, laden with fruit, to quickly shed their blossoms, leaves, and fruits. Bereft of their flocks of birds and stripped down to their branches, the trees stood lifeless, as if battered by a fierce wind. The battered grove looked like a young woman with disheveled hair, her ornaments ruined, her beauty marred by the marks of passion. So too did the aśoka grove appear, its trees broken and battered by Hanuman’s tail, hands, and feet. With force, he tore apart the garlands of great creepers, just as the wind scatters masses of clouds in the rainy season. As Hanuman wandered, he beheld delightful jeweled floors, silver floors, and golden floors gleaming in the sunlight. There were ponds of many shapes, filled with clear, excellent water, adorned with grand stairways made of precious gems. The sands of these ponds shone with pearls and coral, their inner floors were of crystal, and splendid golden trees graced their banks. The waters were adorned with blooming lotuses and blue lilies, frequented by chakravaka birds, resounding with the cries of waterfowl, and alive with the calls of swans and cranes. All around, long rivers lined with trees flowed, their waters pure and auspicious, sweet as nectar. The rivers were covered with hundreds of creepers, wrapped in clusters of flowers, surrounded by thickets, and divided by oleander groves. Hanuman’s eyes then fell upon a mountain, vast and dark as a raincloud, its towering peaks adorned with many-colored summits, encircled by rugged crags. Stone mansions dotted its slopes, and many kinds of trees surrounded it, making the mountain a delightful sight upon the earth. From this mountain, Hanuman saw a river cascading down, as if a beloved had leapt from her lover’s lap in a moment of passion. The river was adorned by trees whose tops had fallen into the water, resembling an angry woman held back by her dear friends. Soon, the great monkey saw the river once more full, its returning waters shining as if a beloved had come back radiant to her lover. Not far from there, Hanuman, foremost among monkeys and son of the Wind, saw lotus ponds alive with flocks of many birds. He also beheld an artificial long pool, filled with cool water, its stairways made of the finest jewels, and its sand shining with pearls. The area was remarkable, alive with groups of animals, a wondrous and decorated forest, and grand palaces constructed by Vishvakarma, the divine architect. Everywhere, artificial groves flourished, and every tree bore flowers and fruits. All had fine canopies and platforms, with golden railings, draped in spreading creepers and abundant leaves. Amidst this splendor, Hanuman saw a single golden shimshapa tree, surrounded by platforms made entirely of gold. He saw plots of land and mountain springs, and other golden trees that gleamed like peacocks in their brilliance. The radiance of these trees was so great that Hanuman thought, “I myself am golden on every side, like Mount Meru.” As he watched the golden trees, shaken by the wind and resounding with the tinkling of hundreds of small bells, he was filled with wonder. Swiftly, Hanuman climbed the beautiful śiṃśapā tree, thick with leaves, its tips bursting with blossoms and fresh shoots. From this vantage, he resolved, “From here, I shall see Vaidehī—longing for Rāma and suffering in her heart—perhaps wandering here by chance.” He looked around and thought, “This must surely be the delightful Aśoka grove of that wicked one, adorned with sandalwood, campaka, and bakula trees. Here is a lovely lotus pond, frequented by flocks of birds; surely the royal lady Jānakī will come to this place. That queen, devoted to Rāghava and skilled in the ways of the forest, will certainly come here. Or perhaps, the wise, doe-eyed lady, distressed by thoughts of Rāma, will soon come to this forest.