The assembled gods, recognizing the extraordinary child born of the Wind, gathered to bestow their blessings upon him. Śaṅkara, the great Lord, declared that none of his weapons of intoxication could ever harm this child, granting him a supreme boon. Brahmā, the Creator, affirmed that the child would be invulnerable to all the rods of Brahmā, destined for a long life and endowed with a great soul. Viśvakarmā, the foremost among craftsmen, beheld the radiant child—shining like the rising sun—and, with wisdom, granted him a boon: all the divine weapons forged by Viśvakarmā for battle would be powerless against him, ensuring his safety and longevity. Witnessing the child adorned with these divine boons, Brahmā, the four-faced preceptor of the world, joyfully addressed Vāyu, the Wind-god: “Your son, O Wind, the mighty son of Māruta, will be a terror to his enemies and a protector of his friends. He shall be invincible.” The gods further declared that this child would possess the power to assume any form at will, move wherever and however he wished, and leap farther than any other being. His fame would spread far and wide, unhindered by any obstacle. They foretold that he would perform extraordinary deeds in battle for the destruction of Rāvaṇa and to bring joy to Rāma—deeds so astonishing that they would make one’s hair stand on end. Having spoken these words and taken leave of Vāyu, the gods, led by the grandsire Brahmā, returned to their abodes. Vāyu, overjoyed, brought his son home and recounted to Añjanā, the boy’s mother, all the wondrous boons their child had received. Thus blessed by Rāma and the gods, the child was filled with immense strength, surging within him like the vast ocean. As his power grew, this extraordinary monkey, fearless and unmatched, began to playfully commit mischief in the hermitages of great sages. He would scatter their ladles and vessels, disrupt their sacred fire-altars, and ruin their collections of bark and skins, leaving disorder in his wake. Though mighty and invulnerable to any weapon or curse, the sages endured his antics as best they could, recognizing his divine nature. Despite admonishments, the son of Añjanā, emboldened by his lion-like father, continued to cross the boundaries of propriety. At last, the great sages, descendants of the Bhṛgu and Aṅgiras lineages, grew angry—not out of excessive wrath, but from necessity—and pronounced a curse: “Because you trouble us, relying on your strength, O monkey, you shall, for a long time, be unaware of your own power, deluded by our words. Only when your fame is recalled will your strength return in full.” Thus deprived of the awareness of his own energy and vigor, Hanuman adopted a gentle demeanor and performed his tasks quietly. In those days, there was a king among the monkeys named Ṛkṣaraja, father of Vāli and Sugrīva, who ruled with brilliance like the sun. After a long and just reign, Ṛkṣaraja departed from the world, and his ministers, wise in counsel, installed Vāli as king and Sugrīva in his stead. From childhood, Hanuman enjoyed a deep, flawless friendship with Sugrīva, as harmonious as the bond between wind and fire. Yet, due to the lingering effect of the sages’ curse, Hanuman remained unaware of his true strength, even when enmity arose between Vāli and Sugrīva. Likewise, Sugrīva, though oppressed by Vāli, did not recognize his own power. Hanuman, the son of the Wind, remained the foremost among monkeys, though his strength was veiled by the curse. Like a lion restrained by an elephant, he endured, his might latent but ever-present. Who in all the world could surpass Hanuman in valor, enthusiasm, brilliance, noble character, sweetness, conduct, depth, cleverness, heroism, or courage? Intent on mastering grammar, Hanuman—monkey king and scholar—faced the sun and journeyed to the rising mountain, bearing the immeasurable treatise. He accomplished the great work, mastering aphorisms, commentary, meaningful words, and comprehensive summaries. In the scholarly sciences, in prosody, and in poetic meter, there was none his equal. In all branches of knowledge and austerity, Hanuman rivaled even Bṛhaspati, the teacher of the gods. He became a knower of the new grammar’s meaning and, by Rāma’s grace, was destined to become like Brahmā. Who could stand before Hanuman—who could cross the ocean as he did, who could burn the worlds like fire, or who could face Death at the end of the age? The other great monkey lords—Sugrīva, Mainda, Dvivida, Nila, Sushena, Tara, Nala, and Rambha—were all created by the gods for Rāma’s sake. Thus, everything that was asked has now been told. Agastya recounted Hanuman’s deeds from his childhood onward. Hearing this narration, Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, the monkeys, and even the rākṣasas were filled with wonder. Then Agastya said to Rāma, “You have heard all this and have seen and spoken with me. Now, Rāma, we shall take our leave.” Hearing these words from the radiant sage, Rāma, with joined palms and bowed head, replied with reverence: “Today, my ancestors, the gods, and the forefathers are delighted; simply by seeing you, they, along with their kin, are always satisfied. Yet I must make this request, spoken with longing: out of compassion, please do this for me. Having settled the affairs of the citizens and the people, I have come here; by your power, O noble ones, I will perform sacrifices.” Thus ended the sacred narration, filled with blessings, wisdom, and the promise of Hanuman’s greatness.