Desiring your audience, O lord, I came to your dwelling,” Hanuman began, standing before his companions after his return from Lanka. “I am Hanuman, son of the Wind, born among the vanaras. Know me as Rama’s messenger, a monkey and counselor to Sugriva; I came to Ravana’s city in Rama’s service. Hear now the message I was commanded to deliver. The lord of the rakshasas and the lord of the monkeys—Sugriva—sent these words. Sugriva, the illustrious one, spoke to Ravana words of well-being, guided by righteousness, wealth, and desire; he spoke only what was beneficial and proper. While I dwelt on Rishyamuka mountain, amidst the great trees, the valorous Rama approached me in friendship. He confided, ‘O king, my wife has been abducted by a rakshasa; for the sake of assistance, you ought to make an agreement with me.’ Thus, Rama and Lakshmana, with Sugriva whose kingdom was taken by Vali, forged a pact of friendship, witnessed by fire itself. Then, in battle, Rama struck down Vali with a single arrow and restored Sugriva as king of the monkeys, lord of all who leap. It became our sacred duty to help Rama with all our might; by Sugriva’s command, in accordance with righteousness, I journeyed to Lanka. I called upon Ravana: ‘Let Sita be brought quickly and given to Rama, before the heroic monkeys destroy your forces. The power of the monkeys was never before known by anyone; invited, they would go even to the presence of the gods.’ Thus spoke Sugriva, as I conveyed his words. But Ravana looked at me, enraged, his gaze burning with anger. Ignorant of my power, that wicked rakshasa ordered my death for delivering my message. Then, Vibhishana, Ravana’s wise brother, intervened on my behalf. ‘Do not persist in this decision, O tiger among rakshasas,’ Vibhishana pleaded. ‘You consider a path 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 in the case of a messenger guilty of a great offense, only disfigurement is prescribed, not death, according to the law.’ Thus addressed by Vibhishana, Ravana ordered his rakshasas, ‘Let his tail be burned today!’ At his command, my tail was wrapped round and round with hemp fibers and strips of cotton cloth. The rakshasas, fully armed and fierce, 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, eager as I was to see Lanka by daylight. Those heroic rakshasas paraded me through the royal road, covered in fire, as they approached the city gate. Then, contracting my immense form by my own power, I freed myself from those bonds and stood again in my natural state. Seizing an iron club, I struck down the rakshasas, and with great speed, I leapt to the city gate. With my blazing tail, I set fire to Lanka—its ramparts, gateways, and all within—unshaken, like the fire at the end of an age that consumes all creatures. Yet, as I saw the city consumed, I feared for Sita. ‘Surely, Sita is lost; not a single spot in Lanka appears unburned. The entire city is reduced to ashes. As I was burning Lanka, Sita too must have been burned—there is no doubt. Thus, this great task of Rama’s has been rendered fruitless by me.’ Overwhelmed by sorrow, I fell into anxious thought. Then, I heard the auspicious words of the celestial spies: ‘Sita has not been burned.’ Their wondrous news brought understanding and relief. ‘Sita is unburned’—this was confirmed by omens as well, for though my tail was aflame, the fire did not burn me. My heart was gladdened, and fragrant winds began to blow; by these visible omens and auspicious signs, I was assured. The words of the sages, confirmed by my own perception, filled me with joy; I saw Sita again, and was released from my worries. Then, reaching the mountain, I once more encountered danger there; but, longing to see you all, I began my return journey. Traversing the path frequented by the Wind, the Moon, the Sun, the Siddhas, and the Gandharvas, I have now come here and stand before you. By the grace of Rama, your own power, and for the sake of Sugriva’s mission, I have accomplished everything. All that was required has been properly carried out by me; whatever remains unfinished, let it be done now. Hear now the next sarga in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, Sundarakanda. Having related all this, Hanuman, son of the Wind, began to speak further: “Rama’s effort and Sugriva’s zeal have borne fruit; having witnessed Sita’s noble character, my heart, too, is gladdened. Sita’s conduct is fitting for a noble lady, O foremost of monkeys; by her austerity she could sustain the worlds—or, if angered, even burn them up.