Hearing that the sons of his ministers—renowned for their swiftness in battle—had been slain, Ravana’s heart blazed with wrath. At once, the ten-headed lord of the rakshasas sent forth five heroic commanders from his army, each a mighty warrior in his own right. But I, Hanuman, destroyed them all, together with their formidable forces. Undeterred, Ravana dispatched his powerful son Aksha into the fray, surrounded by many fierce demons. Aksha, the valiant prince born of Mandodari and skilled in the art of war, rose up to confront me. As he soared suddenly into the sky, I seized him by the feet, whirled him around a hundred times, and dashed him down, ending his life. When Ravana heard that his beloved Aksha had been slain, his rage grew fiercer. Enraged, he sent his second son, Indrajit, proud and mighty in battle. I stood my ground against Indrajit and the entire host of rakshasas that accompanied him. Though Indrajit exerted all his energy in the fight, and found some satisfaction in the struggle, he soon realized the futility of opposing me—his army was routed, and I stood unconquered. Recognizing my invincibility, Indrajit resorted to a divine weapon. He bound me with the mighty Brahma-astra, swift as the wind. The rakshasas then tied me tightly with ropes and brought me before the ten-headed Ravana. There, the wicked king questioned me about my arrival in Lanka and the destruction I had wrought among his forces—all done for the sake of Sita. In Ravana’s court, I spoke openly: “Desiring to see Sita, I have come to your dwelling, O lord. I am Hanuman, son of the Wind, a vanara by birth. Know me as Rama’s messenger, the monkey and counselor of Sugriva; I have come here in the service of Rama.” I continued, “Hear the command I bring you. Both the lord of the rakshasas and the lord of the monkeys send you this message. Sugriva, the illustrious king, speaks to you words of well-being—words founded in righteousness, wealth, and desire; he speaks what is truly beneficial and proper. “When I dwelt on Rishyamuka mountain among great trees, the valorous Raghava, Rama, approached me in friendship. He told me, ‘O king, my wife has been abducted by a rakshasa; for the sake of assistance, you ought to make an agreement with me.’ With Sugriva, whose kingdom had been taken by Vali, Rama and Lakshmana made a pact of friendship, witnessed by fire. Rama then struck down Vali with a single arrow in battle and restored Sugriva as king of the monkeys, lord of those who leap. “It is our duty to assist Rama with all our might; by his command, I have come to you, in accordance with righteousness. Let Sita be brought quickly and returned to Raghava, before the heroic monkeys destroy your forces. The power of the monkeys has never before been revealed; when called, they will go even to the presence of the gods. “Thus the monkey king has spoken, and I convey his words to you.” Hearing this, Ravana glared at me, his eyes blazing with anger. In his fury, not knowing my true power, he ordered that I be killed. But his wise brother, Vibhishana, intervened, counseling Ravana with great intelligence: “Do not persist in this course, O tiger among rakshasas; you are considering an act contrary to royal law. The killing of a messenger is not sanctioned in royal treatises; what is to be learned from a messenger must be learned according to his words. Even if a messenger is guilty of a great offense, only disfigurement is prescribed, not death, according to the law.” Heeding Vibhishana’s counsel, Ravana commanded his rakshasas, “Let his tail be burned today!” The rakshasas, upon hearing this, wrapped my tail with hemp fibers and strips of cotton cloth. Armed and fierce, they set my tail alight, striking me with fists full of wood. Though bound with many ropes and restrained by the rakshasas, I felt no pain, for I was eager to see the city by daylight. Dragging me along the royal road, the rakshasas paraded me through Lanka, my burning tail trailing behind, as they approached the city gate. Then, by my own power, I contracted my immense form, slipped free from my bonds, and stood in my natural state. Seizing an iron club, I struck down my tormentors and, with great speed, leapt to the city gate. With my blazing tail, I set fire to Lanka—its ramparts, gateways, and dwellings—until the city burned as if it were the end of an age, consumed by a cosmic fire. As the flames raged, I was seized by sorrow: surely Sita must have perished, for not a single spot in Lanka appeared unburned. I feared that the great task entrusted to me by Rama had been rendered fruitless. Overwhelmed by anxious thoughts, I was suddenly heartened by the auspicious words of the celestial spies: “Sita has not been burned,” they declared, bringing wondrous news. At their marvelous words, understanding dawned within me, and hope was restored.