Hearing his brother’s words, the ten-headed and mighty Rāvaṇa replied with thoughtful speech befitting the moment. “What you say is true,” he conceded, “it is wrong to kill a messenger. Yet, surely, he must be punished in some other way.” Rāvaṇa then declared, “The tail is said to be the ornament of monkeys—so let his tail be set on fire at once, and let him go with it burned.” He added with cruel intent, “Let all his kin, friends, and the whole monkey clan see him wretched and disfigured, his body emaciated and deformed.” With these harsh orders, the lord of the Rākṣasas commanded that Hanumān be paraded throughout the city, especially at its crossroads, so all could witness him led by demons with his tail aflame. The Rākṣasas, their anger fierce, immediately wrapped Hanumān’s tail with old cotton rags. As they did so, Hanumān, the great monkey, began to grow in size, swelling like a forest fire fanned by dry winds. After pouring oil upon the wrappings, the demons set his tail alight. Even as his tail blazed, Hanumān struck at the Rākṣasas around him. His face, radiant as the rising sun and filled with anger, Hanumān—foremost among monkeys—was once again surrounded by fierce Rākṣasas. The people of Laṅkā—women, children, and elders—rejoiced at the sight. Yet the heroic Hanumān, though bound, resolved on a course of action suited to the moment. He pondered, “Even though I am bound, these Rākṣasas cannot truly restrain me. If I wished, I could break these bonds, leap up, and slay them all. Still, my purpose is not yet fulfilled. I act for my lord’s welfare and by his command. I alone could defeat all the Rākṣasas in battle, but for Rāma’s sake, I will endure this situation. I must search Laṅkā once more, for at night I could not clearly see the city’s fortifications. I must see Laṅkā by daylight. Let them bind my tail and set it alight again if they wish. Though the Rākṣasas cause me pain, my mind does not grow weary.” So the delighted Rākṣasas seized Hanumān, the elephant among monkeys, and led him away, their triumph announced with the blaring of conches and the beating of drums. Cruel in their actions, the demons paraded Hanumān through the city, but the unconquerable monkey moved along at ease, his spirit undaunted. As he was paraded through the great city of the Rākṣasas, Hanumān beheld the wondrous palaces, enclosed plots, well-divided squares, streets crowded with houses, and bustling marketplaces. He observed the main streets, side streets, interiors of homes, and the crossroads along the royal road. As Hanumān passed, all the Rākṣasas proclaimed, “This is the spy monkey!” Women, children, and elders, curious and eager, came out to see Hanumān with his blazing tail. The tip of his tail burned brightly, drawing all eyes. The rākṣasī women, with misshapen eyes, hurried to Queen Sītā and reported the misfortune: “O Sītā, the copper-faced monkey with whom you spoke—his tail has been set on fire, and he is being led around the city.” Hearing these cruel words, which threatened Hanumān’s very life, Sītā, scorched by grief, turned toward the sacred fire, seeking auspiciousness for the great monkey. With pure intent and wide eyes, Sītā approached the fire-god and prayed, “If I have served my husband, if I have practiced virtue, if I am truly devoted to one man, let Hanumān be cool. If there is any compassion in that wise one for me, if any fortune remains for me, let Hanumān be cool. If that righteous one knows me to be virtuous and longing for reunion with him, let Hanumān be cool. If noble Sugrīva, steadfast in truth, will rescue me from this sea of sorrow, let Hanumān be cool.” Then the fire, with its sharp but unwavering flames, circled to the right and blazed around the doe-eyed Sītā, as if proclaiming good fortune for Hanumān. At that moment, Hanumān and his father, the wind-god, together with the fire on his tail, sent a cool, health-giving, icy breeze to the goddess Sītā. As his tail was burning, Hanumān marveled, “This blazing fire does not burn me at all—why is that? The great flames are visible, yet they cause me no pain; at the tip of my tail, it feels as if a cool stream has settled. Perhaps this is the same wonder I saw when I crossed the ocean—by Rāma’s power, even the mountain yielded to the lord of rivers. If the wise Maināka and the ocean were so eager to help for Rāma’s sake, why would fire not do the same? Because of Sītā’s compassion, Rāma’s energy, and my father’s friendship, the fire does not burn me.” The mighty monkey paused and thought again, “How could one such as I be bound by these wicked Rākṣasas? If I have strength, I should act accordingly.” With that resolve, the swift and mighty Hanumān broke his bonds. Leaping up with tremendous speed, the great monkey let out a thunderous roar and, from there, bounded to the city’s gate, towering like a mountain peak.