The Baby Who Flew to the Sun

Little Hanuman thought the sun was a fruit. So he went to grab it.

Baby Hanuman wakes up hungry on Mount Anjanadri, sees the sun rising and thinks it is a giant red fruit. So he flies up to grab it. What happens next involves a thunderbolt, a heartbroken father, the world running out of wind, and so many blessings from the gods that Hanuman grows up almost too powerful for his own good.

Hungry on a Mountain

On the soft green slopes of Mount Anjanadri, just as the sky was turning pink, a baby with golden fur opened his eyes. His mother, Anjana, had stepped away for a moment to fetch water. The baby looked around. Birds were just starting to chirp. Small dewdrops sat on every leaf. He sat up.

He was very, very hungry.

His name was Hanuman, and he was no ordinary baby. His father was Vayu, the god of wind. From the day he was born, the breeze always blew a little softer when he was around, like the world was being careful with him.

Hanuman rubbed his tummy. He looked left. He looked right. There was nothing to eat anywhere nearby.

Then he looked up.

The Big Red Fruit

There, at the edge of the sky, the sun was rising over the trees. Big. Round. Bright orange-red, like a ripe mango. The kind your mother slices for you in the summer.

Hanuman's eyes lit up.

"A fruit," he thought. "A really, really big fruit."

He stood up on his pudgy little legs. He took one step. He took another step. And then, because he was the son of the wind god, he simply went up.

He flew. Higher than the trees. Higher than the mountains. Higher than the clouds. The world below got smaller and smaller. The sun stayed where it was, big and red and round, and Hanuman flew toward it with his arms stretched out and his little mouth open.

It is, when you think about it, the most baby thing in the world to do.

Indra Panics

Now, far above the clouds, in Swarga (the kingdom of the gods), Indra was sipping his morning amrita. Indra was the king of the gods. He carried a thunderbolt called the vajra, which he used to keep the world in order.

Indra looked down through the clouds and saw a tiny golden baby flying straight at the sun.

He choked on his amrita. "WHAT."

This was bad. The sun is the source of all warmth and life. If the sun got hurt, even a little, the whole world would freeze. And here was some baby, flying full speed toward it, ready to bite it like an apple.

Indra did not stop to ask questions. He picked up his vajra. He took aim. And he threw it.

The Boy Falls

The vajra hit Hanuman on the jaw with a flash and a crack of thunder. The little baby's eyes rolled back. The big red fruit slipped out of his reach. He fell.

Down. Down. Down.

He fell all the way back to Mount Anjanadri and landed on the ground with a thud. Very still. Very, very still.

If you ever wonder why Hanuman is sometimes called Hanu-man, that is why. Hanu in Sanskrit means jaw. The boy with the broken jaw. The dent the vajra left never quite went away.

Anjana came running back, water pot still in her hands. She saw her baby. She fell to her knees.

The Wind Stops

When Vayu, Hanuman's father, found out what had happened, his heart broke into a hundred pieces. He sat down on a rock with the tiny baby in his arms.

And then he did something the world has never forgotten.

He stopped.

Vayu stopped blowing.

Not a breath of wind moved anywhere on the earth. The leaves stood still. The flags on temples sagged. The sails on boats hung limp. People in every village, every city, every forest, found that they could not breathe properly. The sky pressed down on them like a heavy blanket.

The world began to choke.

The Gods Apologise

Up in Swarga, Indra realised what was happening. He had hurt a child. The child's father was the wind. And without wind, every living being on earth was about to die.

Brahma, the creator, called all the gods together. They flew down to Anjanadri and bowed to the heartbroken Vayu.

"We are sorry," Brahma said quietly. "This was a mistake. Let us bring your son back. Let us make him strong, so this never happens to him again."

Vayu looked up. He nodded slowly.

A Pile of Boons

One by one, every god placed a hand on baby Hanuman, and gave him a gift. The gift was called a boon. A blessing that becomes part of who you are.

• Brahma said: "No weapon in the universe will ever be able to kill you."
• Shiva said: "You will live as long as people tell stories about Rama. Which means... pretty much forever."
• Indra said, very quietly because he felt very bad: "You will be stronger than my own thunderbolt."
• Vayu himself said: "You will be as fast as the wind. You can grow as big as a mountain or as small as a thumb."
• Surya, the sun god, said: "And one day, when you are ready, I will be your teacher."

Baby Hanuman opened his eyes. He looked around. He blinked. Vayu, his father, started breathing again. The wind began to blow.

Leaves rustled. Flags lifted. Boats moved. The whole earth took a giant happy gulp of air.

A Powerful Mischief Maker

Now here is the funny part of the story.

When a baby gets that many boons from that many gods, the baby grows up... well, into a tiny tornado.

Little Hanuman could grow as big as a hill. He could lift trees. He could fly. He was stronger than anyone, faster than anyone, and almost impossible to hurt.

And he was still a child.

So he played. Loudly.

He yanked the beards of meditating sages. He picked up cooking pots and threw them in the river. He pulled tigers' tails for fun. He flipped over little ashrams when he wanted to play hide and seek. The poor sages of the forest could not get a single yajna done without something flying through it.

This went on for a long time. The sages were very kind people. But even kind people lose their patience.

The Curse

One day, after a particularly bad afternoon involving a sage's hut, three turned-over water pots, and a flying tiger, the sages gathered.

They called Hanuman over. They were not angry. They were tired.

"You are a wonderful boy," said the eldest sage, kindly. "And you have been blessed by every god there is. But you are using your strength like a toy. So we are going to put it away for a while."

The sage placed his hand on Hanuman's head and said something gentle.

"You will forget your powers. All of them. They are still there, inside you. But you will not remember they exist. Until one day, when somebody who really needs you reminds you. On that day, all your strength will come rushing back."

Hanuman blinked. The world seemed to dim a little. He no longer felt like he could lift a mountain. He no longer felt like he could fly. He felt like a regular small boy.

And that is how he stayed. For years.

In Your Life

Here is what is interesting about this story. Hanuman is the strongest one in any story he ever appears in. But the very first thing he does is forget. The first thing the gods give him, he loses.

This happens to all of us. There are things you are amazingly good at that you do not even know about yet. Maybe you are kinder than you realise. Maybe you are smarter than you give yourself credit for. Maybe you can sing, or run, or solve puzzles, or make people feel better when they are sad, in a way that is going to surprise everyone, including you.

We all have boons inside us. We all forget. And one day, when somebody we love really needs us, we remember. That is the day we find out who we really are.

For Hanuman, that day is coming. But not yet.

For the next few years, he was just a strong-ish boy who liked the forest. He had no idea that one day, a prince called Rama would walk into his life, and a friend called Jambavan would lean over and whisper in his ear: "Do you remember who you are?"

That is the next story. Hold on to this one for now.