Just as the wind, hidden within a mountain cave, bursts forth with a mighty roar, so too did Hanumān, the powerful son of the Wind-god, let out a resounding cry upon his return. His form, dark and immense like a mass of thunderclouds, descended from the sky, and all the assembled monkeys, beholding that great hero, stood with joined palms in reverence. Hanumān, swift and courageous, landed upon the summit of the mountain, his presence as imposing as a mountain itself, surrounded by clusters of trees. Overjoyed, he leapt down into a beautiful mountain stream, reminiscent of a winged mountain falling from the heavens. The foremost among the monkeys, their hearts brimming with delight, hurried to surround Hanumān, the great-souled one. They gathered around him, faces aglow with happiness, and joyfully welcomed his arrival. To honor Hanumān, the best of monkeys and son of the Wind, they brought him roots and fruits as offerings. Some monkeys, unable to contain their excitement, broke into song; others made joyful noises, and the chiefs among them brought fresh branches as gifts. With humility, Hanumān bowed to his elders and seniors, foremost among them Jāmbavān, and also to the prince Aṅgada. Honored by these two and revered by all the monkeys, Hanumān, valiant and true, spoke briefly but with immense significance: “Sītā has been seen.” Taking Aṅgada, Vāli’s son, by the hand, Hanumān sat down with him in a pleasant spot on the slopes of Mount Mahendra, surrounded by the tranquil beauty of the forest. When questioned by the eager monkeys, Hanumān addressed them: “Seated in the Ashoka grove, I saw Janaka’s daughter.” He described her condition: “She is guarded by fearsome rakshasi women. Faultless and youthful, her hair in a single braid, she longs to see Rāma. Worn out by fasting, dirty, her hair matted, and emaciated, she endures her suffering with great resolve.” And so Hanumān spoke the words, “I have seen her,” words as sweet and life-giving as nectar. Hearing this, all the monkeys were overcome with joy. Some whistled, others roared, and some thundered with strength. They made chattering sounds and answered each other with counter-roars; some, delighted, raised their long tails high in celebration. Others stretched out their curved tails, and many, in their happiness, reached out to touch the illustrious Hanumān, the best among them. Leaping onto the mountain peaks, they embraced Hanumān with joy. Then Aṅgada spoke to Hanumān in the midst of all the monkey heroes, saying, “In courage and strength, no one among monkeys equals you. You alone leapt across the vast ocean and returned. O best of monkeys, you are the giver of life to us. By your grace, we shall meet Rāma, our purpose fulfilled. Oh, your devotion to your master! Oh, your strength! Oh, your resolve! By good fortune you have seen the illustrious queen, Rāma’s wife. By good fortune, Kakutstha will be freed from the grief of Sītā’s separation.” The monkeys, filled with happiness, gathered around Aṅgada, Hanumān, and Jāmbavān, and took their places upon the broad rocks of the mountain. Eager to hear more, they wished to learn all about Hanumān’s crossing of the ocean, the sight of Lanka, Sītā, and Rāvaṇa. All stood with joined palms, their attention fixed upon Hanumān. There stood the illustrious Aṅgada, surrounded by many monkeys, honored like the lord of the gods in heaven, attended by the immortals. The mountain peak, now joyfully occupied by the renowned Hanumān and strong-armed Aṅgada, shone with a brilliant splendor. Listen now to the next chapter. Upon the summit of Mahendra, the mighty monkeys led by Hanumān were filled with supreme joy. As they sat together, their hearts still uplifted, Jāmbavān, delighted, addressed Hanumān with affection. He asked, “O son of the Wind, tell us how you saw the Lady, and how she fares there. How did the cruel Rāvaṇa behave towards her? Tell us all truthfully, O great monkey. How was the Lady searched for, and what did she say in reply? Once we know the facts, we can consider our next actions. And tell us what we, who have returned, should say or do, and what must be protected there.” Thus urged, Hanumān, his hair standing on end with the joy of his accomplishment, bowed his head in reverence to Sītā and began to speak: “In your presence, leaping from the peak of Mahendra, I set out, determined to reach the southern shore of the ocean. As I journeyed, a terrible obstacle appeared before me, taking the form of a golden, wondrous, and most delightful mountain. That mountain blocked my path, and I saw it as an obstacle. Approaching that divine, golden peak, I resolved in my mind, ‘I must break through this.’ Striking the great mountain with my tail, I shattered its sun-bright peak into a thousand pieces.