Honored by Sītā’s gracious words as he took his leave, Hanuman, the mighty monkey, withdrew from her presence and began to ponder deeply upon his mission. “Now that I have seen the dark-eyed lady,” he mused, “my task is nearly complete. I have already exhausted three of the four strategies—conciliation, gifts, and sowing division. Only the fourth remains before me.” He reflected further: “Conciliation does not suit the nature of these demons; they are not swayed by gentle words. Gifts are useless to those who already possess great wealth. Those drunk with power cannot be overcome by sowing discord among them. Force—yes, force alone seems appropriate in this place. For this mission, no other resolution is possible. Only if the demons are struck down in battle might they, perhaps, show some softness today.” Hanuman’s thoughts continued: “He who accomplishes many tasks without hindering the previous ones is truly fit for the work at hand. Here, even a small deed requires more than a single cause; only one who understands a matter from many sides can bring it to completion.” Resolving his course, Hanuman decided, “Now, having made up my mind, I shall return today to the abode of the monkey king. Once I understand the true nature of conflict with these foes, I will have fulfilled my master’s command. But how, today, can a direct battle with the demons come about favorably for me? Let my own strength be revealed, and let Rāvaṇa himself meet me in battle.” He envisioned the coming confrontation: “Then, facing Rāvaṇa in battle, along with his ministers, his army, and his chariots, I shall gauge his mind and strength—then, at ease, I will return from here.” Casting his gaze about, Hanuman saw the beautiful grove before him, a paradise to the eyes and the mind—a wondrous garden, though belonging to the cruel Rāvaṇa, filled with all manner of trees and vines. “I will destroy this grove,” he resolved, “as fire consumes a dry forest. When it is laid waste, Rāvaṇa’s anger will be kindled.” He foresaw what would follow: “Then the lord of the demons will assemble a great force—horses, mighty chariots, elephants, and warriors armed with tridents, iron clubs, and spears. A great battle will ensue. I, undaunted, will meet those fierce warriors and strike down the force sent by Rāvaṇa. Then, happily, I will return to the monkey king’s abode.” With his resolve set, Hanuman, mighty as the wind and blazing with anger, began to hurl great trees with the strength of his thighs. The heroic Hanuman devastated the pleasure grove, which once resounded with the songs of intoxicated birds and was filled with a profusion of trees and vines. Now, the grove lay in ruins—its trees shattered, water tanks broken, mountain peaks crushed to powder, and the whole scene unpleasant to behold. Birds cried out in distress, water tanks lay broken, copper-colored leaves were scattered in exhaustion, and the trees and vines drooped in weariness. It did not look as if wildfire had struck, but the creepers, their leafy coverings in disarray, trembled as if agitated by a storm. Creeper-cottages and bowers lay destroyed, wild beasts and animals cried in distress, birds scattered, and even stone shelters were torn apart. The once-beautiful forest became unrecognizable, its very form altered. Clusters of grief-stricken creepers hung forlornly, and the woodland looked like the pleasure-garden of Rāvaṇa’s women, now ruined by the might of the monkey. Having committed this great offense against the lord of Laṅkā, and holding in his heart a bold challenge to the great-souled Rāvaṇa, Hanuman—alone, eager to confront many mighty warriors, and blazing with splendor—took his stand at the gateway, ready for battle. Now begins the forty-second chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Sundara Kāṇḍa. Because of the cries of birds and the crashing of trees, all the inhabitants of Laṅkā were seized with fear and agitation. The demonesses who guarded Sītā, their faces twisted in alarm, awoke from their sleep to see the devastated forest and the heroic, mighty monkey at its center. Upon seeing them, Hanuman, mighty-armed and great-souled, assumed a formidable and terrifying form, sending fear into the hearts of the demonesses. Gazing upon the monkey, vast as a mountain and of awe-inspiring strength, the demonesses turned to Sītā, the daughter of Janaka, and questioned her anxiously: “Who is this? Whose is he? From where has he come? For what reason is he here? And how have you conversed with him?” They pressed her further: “Tell us, O wide-eyed one, do not be afraid, O fortunate lady. What conversation have you had with him, O dark-eyed Sītā?” Sītā, virtuous and radiant, replied, “What recourse do I have in discerning the forms of these shape-shifting demons? Only you know who he is and what he intends to do, just as a serpent knows the feet of another serpent. I, too, am exceedingly afraid; I do not know who he is. I think he is a demon, come here in whatever form he wishes.” Hearing Vaidehī’s words, the demonesses quickly scattered—some remaining, others rushing to inform Rāvaṇa. In the presence of the lord of the demons, the demonesses with distorted faces reported about the dreadful, monstrous monkey: “O king, in the midst of the Aśoka grove stands a monkey of terrible form, who has spoken with Sītā and possesses immeasurable valor. But Janaka’s daughter, Sītā of deer-like eyes, though questioned by us in many ways, refuses to reveal anything about that monkey.” They speculated, “He might be a messenger of Indra, or a messenger of Kubera, or perhaps sent by Rāma himself to search for Sītā. With that same wondrous and captivating form, he has ravaged the pleasure-garden, crowded with many kinds of deer. There is no place in that garden which he did not destroy, except for the spot where Lady Jānakī sits; that alone he left untouched. Whether to protect Jānakī or out of exhaustion, we cannot say—but what fatigue could there be for one such as him? She alone was guarded by him. Even the great śiṃśapā tree, lush with lovely leaves, upon which Sītā herself sat, was protected by him.” Thus, the destruction wrought by Hanuman and the alarm it caused in Laṅkā reached the ears of Rāvaṇa, setting the stage for the events to come.