Jambavan, the wise and aged leader among the vanaras, looked out over the battlefield with hope flickering in his heart. He thought, “If Hanuman, who is as mighty as the wind and whose energy rivals fire itself, still lives, then there is hope for life yet.” At that very moment, Hanuman—son of Vayu, the Wind God—approached Jambavan with deep respect. Bowing low, he touched the elder’s feet in reverence. Hearing Hanuman’s words and feeling his presence, Jambavan’s spirits surged. It was as if new life had been breathed into his weary body. With a renewed brilliance in his eyes, Jambavan addressed Hanuman: “Come, O tiger among vanaras, you alone can save our people. No one else possesses your strength or friendship. This is the moment for your valor, for among us all, I see no one else who can accomplish this task.” He urged Hanuman, “Inspire the troops of heroic bears and vanaras. Heal Rama and Lakshmana, who have been struck down and lie wounded. You must cross the vast ocean and journey to the highest peak of Himavat, the chief of mountains. There, O destroyer of foes, you will find the supreme golden summit—Kailasa, the bull among mountains. Between those two peaks, you will see a blazing mountain of herbs, radiant beyond compare and filled with all manner of medicinal plants.” Jambavan described further, “On its summit, you will find four brilliant herbs, shining forth and illuminating all directions: the Mṛtasamjīvanī, which restores life; the Viśalyakaraṇī, which extracts weapons and heals wounds; the Suvarṇakaraṇī, which brings back lost radiance; and the mighty Saṃdhānī, which joins together broken limbs. Quickly gather these, Hanuman, and return to revive the vanaras and restore the life-breath of Rama and Lakshmana.” Filled with purpose by Jambavan’s words, Hanuman’s strength and vigor swelled like the ocean rising under the wind’s force. Standing atop the mountain, Hanuman pressed down with such might that he seemed like a second mountain beside the first. The mountain, unable to withstand his power, began to sink and tremble beneath his feet. Trees crashed to the ground, some catching fire from the force, and the peaks themselves shattered under his weight. The vanaras, shaken by the swaying earth, could not stand firm. In Lanka, the city’s great gates quaked, houses and towers crumbled, and fear swept through the night as the city seemed to dance with confusion and dread. Hanuman, like a mountain among mountains, pressed down with such force that the very earth and ocean trembled together. Then Hanuman climbed the towering Malaya mountain, which rivaled Meru and Mandara in majesty and was adorned with streams, blossoming lotuses, and water-lilies. Gods and gandharvas frequented its heights, which soared sixty yojanas into the sky. Vidyādharas, groups of sages, and apsarases attended the mountain, which was alive with animals and decorated with many caves. Growing in size, Hanuman—dark as a raincloud—caused confusion among all the yakṣas, gandharvas, and kinnaras. He pressed his feet into the mountain, opened his fierce mouth wide like the blazing submarine fire, and let out a thunderous roar that terrified the night-stalking rakṣasas of Lanka, leaving them frozen in fear. Bowing respectfully to the ocean, Hanuman, the mighty foe-scorcher, set out to fulfill this supreme task for Rama. He coiled his tail like a serpent, bent his back, drew in his ears, and opened his mouth wide, then sprang into the sky with ferocious speed. As he leapt, the force of his arms and thighs sent tree trunks, rocks, and even common monkeys tumbling into the water below. With arms outstretched like the coils of great serpents, Hanuman sped toward the king of mountains, seeming to draw the very directions along with him. He beheld the ocean, garlanded with swirling waves and tossing all creatures upon its surface, and moved onward like the discus released from Vishnu’s hand. He passed over mountains, flocks of birds, lakes, rivers, and splendid cities, even glimpsing the flourishing Anjana mountain as he sped on with a force equal to his father, the wind. Taking the path of the sun, tireless and swift, Hanuman’s valor matched that of Vayu himself. His roar resounded in all directions as he traveled with the speed of the wind, remembering Jambavan’s words. Suddenly, the mighty Himalaya appeared before him. He reached that supreme mountain, adorned with sparkling springs, numerous caves and waterfalls, its peaks gleaming like clusters of white clouds, and beautiful with countless trees. Drawing near the golden-peaked lord of mountains, Hanuman saw sacred hermitages frequented by the foremost hosts of gods and sages. He gazed upon the abode of Brahma, the silver mansion of Indra, the place where Rudra’s arrow was released, the horse-headed peak, the radiant Brahma’s head, and the attendants of Vaivasvata, lord of justice. He saw the abode of Agni, the mansion of Kubera, the brilliance of the Sun, the place where the Sun is bound, Brahma’s abode, Shiva’s bow, and the very navel of the earth. He beheld the summit of Kailasa, the icy rock of the Himalaya, that golden bull-like mountain blazing with all medicinal herbs—the very lord of all herb-bearing peaks. Amazed at the mountain blazing with masses of fire, Hanuman leapt onto that lord of herbs and began to search its summit for the life-restoring plants, determined to fulfill his sacred mission.