Hanuman, perched high in the branches, gazed upon Sita, the wife of the immeasurable Rama, whose heart overflowed with compassion for all beings and who now longed desperately to see her husband. Hanuman’s mind was troubled: how could he reassure this noble lady, whose face shone like the full moon, who had never before tasted sorrow, and who now seemed lost in endless suffering? He resolved, “I must comfort her. If I leave without consoling this virtuous woman, whose mind is overwhelmed by grief, my departure would be blameworthy. Should I depart, and this illustrious princess Janaki finds no protection, she may even abandon her life.” Hanuman remembered that Rama, mighty-armed and gentle, also yearned to comfort Sita and longed for her presence. Yet, Hanuman was caught in a dilemma. The harsh words spoken openly by the rakshasi women were intolerable, and he wondered how best to act in such a difficult situation. “If I do not console her during the remainder of this night, there is no doubt she will give up her life,” he thought. “And if Rama asks me, ‘What did Sita say to you?’—how could I answer, having not spoken with this graceful lady? If I return hastily without Sita’s message, Rama, of the Kakutstha line, might burn me with his fierce, angry gaze. And if I bring Rama here with his army without informing him of Sita’s state, his coming would be in vain.” Determined, Hanuman decided, “Today, finding an opportunity among the rakshasi women, I will gently comfort Sita, who is overwhelmed by distress. Since I am slender and, above all, a vanara, I must speak in refined human language.” Yet he worried: “If I speak in the manner of a twice-born, Sita might think I am Ravana in disguise and become frightened. Still, it is absolutely necessary to speak meaningful human words; only I can console this blameless one—there is no other way.” Hanuman considered further, “If Janaki sees my vanara form and hears my speech, she may again become afraid, recalling her terror at the hands of the demons. Seized by fear, this noble-minded lady might cry out, thinking me to be Ravana, the shapeshifter. Then, the host of fierce demonesses, armed with dreadful weapons, would gather. Surrounding me with their distorted faces, they would strive to kill or capture me. Seeing me leap among the branches, they would become suspicious and alarmed. Observing my great form moving in the forest, they would be terrified and raise a shrill outcry.” He foresaw the consequences: “The demonesses would summon even the demons stationed in Ravana’s palace, and those, bearing many weapons, would rush into conflict. Surrounded on all sides, I would have to destroy the demon force, but I would not be able to reach the far shore of the great ocean. Many swift-acting demons might seize me, and my purpose would be lost—I would be captured. In this place, with the path lost, surrounded by demons and encircled by the ocean, Janaki dwells in hiding. If I am slain or captured in battle, I see no other who could help Rama accomplish his purpose. No other vanara could cross this vast ocean if I am killed. Indeed, I could slay thousands of demons, but I would not be able to return across the great ocean.” Hanuman realized, “This is a great fault—if I speak to Sita, I risk discovery; but if I do not, Vaidehi might give up her life. When a messenger is confused by place and time, even a well-considered plan is thwarted, just as darkness is dispelled at sunrise. Sometimes, messengers who think themselves wise ruin the mission by pursuing plans that bring harm instead of benefit. How can I avoid failure? How can I keep heart, and ensure my crossing of the ocean is not in vain? How might Sita hear my words and not be alarmed?” Thus, Hanuman, the wise one, formed his plan. “By praising Rama, whose actions are blameless and who is steadfast, I will not frighten her, whose mind is bound by sorrow. I will present auspicious and righteous words about Rama, the foremost of the Ikshvakus, who knows himself. I will speak sweet words, making her hear everything, so that Sita may believe and be comforted.” Resolved, Hanuman, of great might, observed the lady of the lord of the world and, hidden within the branches, began to speak sweet and truthful words. Thus begins the thirty-first sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Sundarakāṇḍa.