Flying Across the Ocean

Sita was trapped far away. No one could reach her. Hanuman said, 'I'll go.'

Sita is trapped on the island of Lanka, far across a wild ocean. The vanaras gather on the southern shore and realise none of them can leap that far. Then old Jambavan reminds Hanuman who he really is. Hanuman remembers his strength, grows as big as a mountain, and leaps across the entire sea in one mighty bound to find Sita.

A Whole Army at the Edge of the Sea

It had taken months. Months of searching every forest, every cave, every mountain. The vanara army had hunted for Sita in every corner of the south.

And at last, a great old eagle named Sampati had told them.

"Across the sea. On the island of Lanka. The demon king Ravana has hidden her in his garden."

The whole army cheered.

And then they came to the shore.

They stood at the very southern tip of the land. Where the sand turned wet under their feet. Where the wind smelled of salt. Where the samudra, the great ocean, stretched all the way out to the sky.

The cheering stopped.

The sea was huge. Bigger than anything they had ever seen. Hundreds of miles wide. Dark blue. Full of waves taller than any tree.

Lanka was so far away you could not even see it.

The vanaras stood very, very quietly on the sand.

Who Could Possibly Cross?

A young vanara prince called Angada stepped forward. He was strong. He was the son of mighty Vali. "I will try," he said.

He stretched. He bounced on his feet. He leapt as high as the clouds.

Then, in his honest voice, he turned back to the others.

"I think I can leap there," he said. "But I am not sure I can leap back. If you send me, I might be stuck on the other side. I am not the right one."

The vanaras were quiet.

One by one, the others tried. Some could leap ten miles. Some could leap fifty. Some could even leap a hundred. But the ocean, the vanaras whispered, was a hundred yojanas wide. Hundreds of miles.

Nobody could cross it.

The army's faces fell. Months of searching. The whole journey was about to fail. Right here, on the last beach.

In the back of the crowd, sitting quietly, was a strong young vanara with a kind face. He had a tail that flicked thoughtfully. He had eyes like soft fire.

He was Hanuman.

And he had not even raised his hand.

An Old Bear Notices

A very old bear named Jambavan had been watching everything. Jambavan was the eldest in the army. His fur had gone grey. His back was a little bent. But his eyes were the sharpest in the whole company.

He walked over to Hanuman, slowly, and sat down next to him.

"Hanuman," Jambavan said softly, "why are you sitting here?"

Hanuman looked up. "I am thinking, Tatha," he said. "I want to help. But I am only a vanara. I can leap a little, but not a hundred yojanas."

Jambavan smiled the way only very, very old people smile.

"My son," he said, "have you forgotten?"

Hanuman blinked. "Forgotten what?"

Jambavan leaned closer. The other vanaras leaned closer too. Old Jambavan was about to tell a story.

The Story of a Baby Who Tried to Eat the Sun

"Hanuman," Jambavan said, "do you know who you are?"

Hanuman tilted his head.

"You are the son of Vayu, the wind god. The wind itself is your father. When you were a baby, you opened your eyes one morning, saw the sun rising in the sky, and thought it was a sweet red fruit. So what did you do? You jumped. Not a small jump. You flew up and up, all the way through the clouds, all the way past the birds, all the way to the sun. You wanted to eat it."

Hanuman stared. He had heard this story before, from his mother, but he had thought it was a sweet little tale parents told their children.

"That was you, Hanuman," Jambavan said. "You leapt to the sun. As a baby. The whole sky is your living room. The clouds are your friends. The wind itself is your father. The strength inside you is bigger than this little sea."

The other vanaras were watching with their mouths open.

Jambavan went on, gently. "Long ago, the rishis blessed you with so much power that even you cannot remember it all the time. Sometimes the gods hide their gifts inside us so we don't grow too proud. They wait for the right moment. Hanuman, my son, this is your moment. The whole army is here, waiting. Sita is there, waiting. Rama is in his heart, waiting. Remember who you are."

Hanuman did not move.

And then, very slowly, he stood up.

A Mountain Where a Vanara Used to Be

When Hanuman stood, something began to change.

He took a deep breath. The wind, his father, came rushing in from the sea. Hanuman closed his eyes.

He remembered.

He remembered the sun. He remembered flying. He remembered being so big he could carry mountains. He remembered all of it.

And as he remembered, his body began to grow.

First he was as tall as a tree. Then as tall as ten trees. Then as tall as a hill. Then as tall as a mountain. The vanaras around him stepped back, holding their breath. Hanuman became so big that his head was in the clouds and his shoulders blocked the sun. His eyes shone like little stars. His tail curled like a long river behind him.

He roared. The sound was so loud the waves on the ocean stopped for a second.

"I will go," he said, in a voice like thunder. "And I will bring back news of our mother Sita."

The army cheered like they had never cheered before.

The Greatest Leap in the World

Hanuman climbed up to the top of a mountain called Mahendra. The mountain trembled under his feet, but it held him up.

He folded his hands. He thought of Rama. He whispered, "Jai Shri Ram."

Then he crouched.

He pressed his giant feet into the rock. The mountain creaked. Trees on the slopes began to bend. The wind picked up.

And he jumped.

He pushed off so hard that the mountain itself sank a little into the ground. The whole island of India shook for a second. Birds rose from every forest. The vanaras on the beach were knocked off their feet.

Hanuman shot into the sky like an arrow.

Up into the clouds. Across the blue. Over the dark, rolling ocean.

Down below, the waves were as small as wrinkles in a blanket. Fish leapt up to look at him as he passed. The sun watched. The wind, his father, blew at his back to push him faster.

He was flying across an entire sea.

Tests in the Sky

The gods, though, are sometimes naughty. They wanted to see how brave their boy really was.

First, a little island called Mainaka rose up out of the sea. "Rest here a moment, Hanuman," Mainaka said kindly.

Hanuman touched the island gently with one foot to thank him. "I cannot stop, my friend. I have a job to do. But thank you." And he leapt onward.

Then, deep in the ocean, a giant snake-mother named Surasa rose up. "Whoever passes through my path must enter my mouth."

Hanuman smiled. He grew bigger. Surasa grew bigger. He grew bigger still. Surasa grew bigger again. Then, in a flash, Hanuman became as small as a thumb, zipped in and out of her mouth, and was gone before she could blink.

Finally, a wicked demoness named Simhika tried to grab him by his shadow. Hanuman noticed at once, dived down, and finished her with one blow.

Then he was over Lanka.

The Gold City Below

Hanuman saw it from the sky.

The whole island below him was shaped like a great mountain. On top of it sat a city of gold. The walls glowed. The towers shone. The gardens were so big they were like green rivers running through the streets.

Lanka was beautiful. But Hanuman could already feel something cold underneath the beauty. Like a sweet dish hiding poison.

He shrank himself down, smaller and smaller, until he was no bigger than a kitten. He landed softly on a wall, his tail curled, his eyes alert.

"Don't worry, mother Sita," he whispered into the wind. "Wherever you are, I am coming."

And then, this small soft little vanara, with the strength of a god inside him, slipped quietly into Lanka to find her.

In Your Life

There will be days when something looks too big. Too far. Too hard.

A test you don't think you can pass. A friend who is upset and you don't know how to help. A kind word you are scared to say.

In those moments, you might want to sit down at the back of the crowd, like Hanuman did, and not even raise your hand.

Don't.

Somewhere inside you, there is a little Jambavan voice. A wise old voice that knows you better than you know yourself. Listen for it.

Remember who you are.

Not the bad day version of you. Not the worst test version of you. The truest you. The one your Amma calls brave. The one your friend calls kind. The one who has surprised yourself before, and can surprise yourself again.

Take one breath. Stand up. And leap.