Bound by the wicked rākṣasas, Hanumān reflected that though he acted only for his lord Rāma’s welfare and by his command, his true purpose was not yet fulfilled. He knew within himself that he alone was more than enough to vanquish all the rākṣasas in battle, yet for Rāma’s sake, he chose to endure this ordeal. He resolved that he must search through Laṅkā once more, for in the darkness of night he had not clearly seen the city’s fortifications and arrangements. Surely, he thought, he must see Laṅkā at the close of night; let the rākṣasas bind his tail again and set it alight if they wished. Though the rākṣasas caused him pain, Hanumān’s mind did not grow weary. Thus, they led away the mighty monkey, his true form concealed but his spirit unbroken. The delighted rākṣasas, seizing this elephant among monkeys, paraded him through the city, announcing their triumph with the blare of conches and the thunder of drums. Cruel in their actions, they dragged him through the streets, and Hanumān, unconquerable, moved at ease, followed by a crowd of demons. As Hanumān was paraded through the great city of the rākṣasas, he gazed upon the wondrous palaces, enclosed plots of land, well-divided squares, streets crowded with houses, and bustling market-places. He saw the main avenues and side streets, the interiors of homes, and the crossroads along the royal road. Everywhere, the rākṣasas proclaimed, “This is the spy monkey!” and women, children, and elders emerged here and there, curious to see Hanumān with his blazing tail. As the tip of his tail burned brightly, crowds gathered to witness the spectacle. The rākṣasī women with misshapen eyes hurried to Queen Sītā, reporting the misfortune: “O Sītā, the copper-faced monkey with whom you spoke—his tail has been set aflame, and he is being led around the city.” Hearing these cruel words, which threatened Hanumān’s very life, Vaidehī was scorched by grief. Turning toward the sacred fire, she sought auspiciousness for the great monkey. The wide-eyed, pure-hearted lady approached the fire-god and prayed with devotion: “If I have served my husband faithfully, if I have practiced virtue, if I am truly devoted to one man, let Hanumān be cool. If there is any compassion for me, if any fortune remains, let Hanumān be cool. If Rāma 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.” The fire, with sharp yet unwavering flames, circled to the right and blazed around the doe-eyed lady, as if proclaiming good fortune for Hanumān. Then, Hanumān and his father, the wind, together with the fire on his tail, sent forth a cool, health-giving, icy breeze for the goddess Sītā. As his tail burned, Hanumān wondered in amazement: “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 like the 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.” Then the mighty Hanumān pondered once more: “How could one such as I be bound by these wicked rākṣasas? If I have strength, I should act accordingly.” With that, the swift and powerful monkey broke his bonds. Leaping up with tremendous speed, Hanumān roared mightily and reached the city’s gate, towering like a mountain peak. Scattering the crowd of rākṣasas, he stood there, mountain-like, and in a moment returned to his own glorious form. Shrinking himself to a tiny size, he slipped free of his bonds, and then, regaining his vast, mountain-like shape, looked around. He saw an iron bar at the gate. Seizing it, the mighty-armed Hanumān, adorned with black steel, struck down all the guards once again. Having slain his foes and fierce in battle, Hanumān gazed upon Laṅkā, his blazing tail forming a garland of flames, shining like the sun encircled by its rays. Now, listen to the fifty-fourth chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Sundara Kāṇḍa. With his mission accomplished, Hanumān gazed upon Laṅkā, his enthusiasm only growing. He pondered what further task remained that would bring even greater distress to the rākṣasas. The grove had been destroyed, many rākṣasas slain, and a portion of their army wiped out. What remained, he thought, was the destruction of the fortress itself. If the fortress were destroyed, the task would be accomplished with ease, and his efforts would bear fruit with little further exertion. Since the sacred fire still burned upon his tail, Hanumān decided it was fitting to satisfy that fire with the finest houses of Laṅkā. Then, with his tail ablaze like a rain-cloud flashing with lightning, the great monkey roamed before the houses of Laṅkā, ready to fulfill the final act of his mission.