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Chapter Text

On the southern tip of Jambudvipa, on low rocks foam-washed in the shallows where the Western Sea mingled with the Eastern Sea, stood a mighty army, with no idea of what to do.

The soldiers who made up this army were hirsute, almost furry, and heavily muscled. Their puff-cheeked faces, long arms, short legs, and broad stout figures made them look like apes. Some of them were tall and barrel-chested, with long outthrust faces like the faces of bears. The most, however, were apelike, and if they had not been standing upright and wearing clothes, any of the slimmer, smoother-skinned northerners would have called them Vanars;–– the Sanskrit for Monkeys. The word Vanar also meant Woodlander in these peoples' own language, and so they answered to it.

This army on the southern tip were only a division of a much larger force: the state military of the kingdom of Kishkindh, largest of the Vanar nations; sent on a reconnaissance-mission by the newly-enthroned King Sugreev, on behalf of the man who put him on his throne. In command of this division were an old bear-man named Jambavaan, the oldest and wisest person present, and a younger, smaller Vanar of the apelike kind, called Angad: Sugreev's nephew and heir.

All around them now, the various Vanar soldiers were boasting of their past victories, showing off battle-scars, and turning handsprings and thumping chests together in a fierce-but-friendly competition; each daring the others to volunteer for something in his place. Loud cries rang out among them: 'I can jump a tenth of that distance and not get tired!'; 'Hah! I can jump two-tenths of it!'; 'Tchah! I can jump three!', and so on.

Said Angad to Jambavaan: 'Listen to them! What'll we do now? Each and every single one of them is trying not to be chosen to go, underneath all that boasting. Whom should we send then?'.

Jambavaan looked at the chattering crowd, then looked away, at a single strong Vanar, who sat by himself, a little apart from the others, quiet and still. Said Jambavaan: 'I think we should send one who says nothing', and addressed the silent warrior: 'My brave and clever young comrade, why are you sitting there dead silent?'.

The younger man looked up and said: 'Me? I'm only listening. Is there any command with which you deign to honour me, sir?'.

Jambavaan answered: 'Indeed there is! Hanuman, just as the son of Kashyapa Prajapati and Lady Vinata, the great Garud, outdid all the heroes of his day, so can you outdo us all now! I saw him myself in my youth. He seized his enemies like an eagle snatching serpents from this very ocean! You can do the same. I saw him, and I say, You're as strong as he, and as brave. What are you waiting for?! Don't you remember whose son you are?!'.

Chapter Text

In the kingdom of Kishkindh, Kesari, one of the viceroys of the Vanars, stood with folded hands at his own front door to welcome Rahu, Suraj, and Devendar, chiefs among the Vayuputras, the secretive society who trained the living Gods on Earth who came periodically to vanquish Evil and re-establish dharm, the righteous ways of life.

'Namaste, great Vayuputras', said Kesari when they were all inside and his noble guests were served with food and drink and had their hands and feet washed and each had a place to sit comfortably; 'My house is truly blessed by your presence. I think I must be receiving the merits of all the good deeds I did in previous births! Because I can't think of anything I've done to deserve it in this one. But if I may ask, what brings you here to do me the honour of accepting my hospitality? Are you here in search of the next avatar of Vishnu? Is it possible He, or She, can be found here?'.

Vishnu was the Protector; one of the gods whose incarnations the Vayuputras discovered and trained. Each age had one, said the tradition, and it was the Vayuputras' task to find Him or Her and make Him or Her aware and ready for its destiny.

Devendar answered: 'Namaste, great Chief. No, we haven't found the next avatar of Vishnu, nor are we looking for Him or Her here. We are, though, looking to recruit one or more of your people to join us, to be Vayuputras'.

Kesari's eyes widened, and he said: 'That would be a blessing indeed. Although my people are claimed to be descendants of the gods, we've never been privileged with such things before'.

Said Devendar: 'Well, you can expect to be privileged now. With your permission, Rahu here will go among your people's children, and see whether any has the quality we need. Of course, we'll be keeping that quality secret until further notice'.

Kesari answered: 'Why, of course! You may see any of the children under my command, even my own son!'.

Devendar asked: 'Even your own son?'.

Said Kesari: 'Yes! I think he may be just what you seek. His mother was the lady Punjiksthala;–– she was one of your own court, I believe. At any rate she came to my realm after some quarrel or scandal in yours, and since then she's been called Anjana. She bore me a son some little time ago. We're calling him Maruti, after the wind-gods of old'.

Said Devendar: 'Punjiksthala? I remember her. She did quarrel, as I remember, with one of the sages at my court, who said she interrupted his meditation with some noise, and insisted she be sent away. I'm glad to hear she has prospered as your wife. But bring out all the children of the proper age, great Chief, and we shall see'.

So Kesari assembled all his people, and allowed the Vayuputras Rahu and Suraj to go from house to house and inspect the children, while he and Devendar looked on.

About halfway through the time set for the inspection, there came a cry of surprise, and into the chiefs' presence came Rahu, looking nonplussed, and Suraj, trying not to laugh. Clinging to Rahu's curly hair, too tightly to be dislodged, was young Maruti, Kesari's son. As they came into view, the little princeling got his feet under him and refused to take one step further, and Rahu found he could not move. Instead he looked at Devendar and moaned, 'My lord, my lord, why have you forsaken me? This boy is devouring me alive! This would never have happened without your permission or order. Why have you let me come to this?!'

Devendar stepped forward and separated the two, then turned to Kesari and said: 'I think we have found just the thing'.

Chapter Text

Four years had passed since Devendar and the Vayuputras visited Kesari and his Vanars, and now they were visiting again. This time it was not Kesari himself who came out to welcome them, but one of his advisors, and so, Devendar asked: 'What's this?'.

The advisor answered: 'I beg a thousand pardons, great Vayuputra! But the chief's son is injured, and his father refuses to get up until he's well again'.

Said Devendar: 'Injured?! Show us to him!', and followed the advisor to Kesari, who indeed sat alone, in one of the caves which served as the Vanars' hideout in emergencies, with his son, little Maruti, unconscious on his lap.

Devendar asked: 'What happened here, noble chief?'.

Kesari answered, through his tears: 'My son tried to pick a ripe mango from its tree, all alone. When he leapt into the branches to pick it, he fell and broke his jawbone. Now I'm not moving until he moves again'.

Said Devendar: 'It's praiseworthy and honorable for a father to say so, but hardly for a chief! Why, without you, your people and all their land are as lifeless as if the breath of their nostrils was gone out of them! Is it righteous to abandon your duties just like that?'.

Kesari answered: 'Let them die! Without my son, what has a father to live for? And a chief is father-surrogate to all his people. If I've failed as a father, how can I deserve to be chief?'.

Said Devendar: 'In that case, you haven't forgotten your dharm after all. So, better I should help you than scold you. Here! We Vayuputras have among us the best physicians in the world. They'll soon cure your son'.

With that, Devendar beckoned, and his physicians came forward and set Maruti's jaw, cleaned and bound all his other wounds, and tended him until he woke. Kesari's tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy, and he embraced his son and told him to stand and thank the Vayuputras.

Said Devendar: 'You're most welcome, but how did you come by such an injury, my boy?'.

Maruti answered: 'I jumped up a tree to get a mango, but a thunderbolt hit me and knocked me back down'.

Devendar laughed at the child's exaggeration, and said: 'A thunderbolt, was it? Well, shame on us! A thunderbolt is a divine weapon, and we Vayuputras are the custodians of all divine weapons. It should never have been used on you. From now on, no thunderbolt will hit you again, nor any other divine weapon: neither the Thunderbolt, the Divine Wind, the Diamond Net, the Flame Inextinguishable, the Hammer of the Mind, the sword Laughter-of-the-Moon, the Infallible Arrows, the Diamond Lariat, the compliant water-jar, the snake-arrows, the eagle-arrows, the Rager, Stupefier, Hypnotiser, Yawner, Intoxicator, Humidifier, Tears-inducer, Drainer and Ripper, Monster, Punisher, Wrestler, Baffler, Bolter, Drier, Drencher, Impeller, Staggerer, the Virtue-disc, the Time-disc, the Grass-cutter, the Brahma-crest, the Beater, the Protector, the Virtue noose, the Time noose, the Rain god's noose, the Rain-god's arrow, the Pinaka, the Narayan, the Tower, the Gust, the Bull-head, the Horse-face, the Wrestler, or the two Impellers; neither the Taamasa, the Saumana, the Samvarta, Mausala, Satya, the Maaya-maya, the Teja-prabha, the Cooler, the Sudaaman, the Siteshu, the Maanav, the Brahma-astra, the Pashupati-astra, or any other. None of these weapons will ever hit you again'.

Maruti bowed, and thanked him again.

Devendar added: 'And another thing. You should have another name, after this first adventure; and because I think it's left its mark on you, that name should be Hanuman. It means Crooked-Jawed; but it also means Wise One, and also, Honey-sweet'.

And the name stuck.

Chapter Text

‘Hanumaaaan! Maaarutiii! Son of Anjana! Come back here with those mats and kamandals!’.

So rang out the voices of several annoyed rishis;–– the wise men of the day, living a relatively simple life in the wooded groves;–– in pursuit of the young Vayuputra, with his armful of begging-bowls and seating-carpets. This was not the first time he made off with them for a prank, while the sages were at prayers or deep in meditation, and hung them up in the branches of trees, so he could watch and laugh as the sages fetched them down, or offer to get them himself for a reward.

On this occasion he ran laughing back to his father and said, ‘Look, Pitaji! Look what I got!’.

Kesari answered: ‘You’ve got yourself into a lot of trouble! Don’t you know those sages are doing something important? Their rituals appease the gods, and the gods when appeased protect civilization: it’s our social contract, ever since the days when the gods lived on Earth and intervened directly; when they were living gods among us, and your ancestors. You’re not a Vayuputra only by appointment: the Lord Vayu was my forefather and yours, and so was Lord Rudra, the Mahadev, through another side of the family. That’s why I’m sometimes called Vayu Kesari, and why your own name is Maruti after Rudra’s sons, the Maruts. Is it right for someone like you to treat the sages with disrespect?’.

Said Hanuman: ‘But Pitaji! It’s all in good fun!’.

Kesari answered: ‘No fun for the sages who have to get their things back. Nor for you, if they put a curse on you for making all this mischief! They haven’t til now, because you’re a Vayuputra and my son. But they won’t spare you much longer if you carry on playing tricks on them! You go right back and hand the tools over, and say you’re sorry and beg all their pardons, at once!’.

Hanuman said: ‘But Pitaji!’ again.

Kesari answered: ‘No buts! Get going!’.

So Hanuman trudged back to the sages’ hermitage and handed back their mats and kamandals one by one, and said: ‘I’m sorry, and I shan’t do it again. It was very funny, though’.

The last sage turned copper-eyed at this remark and said: ‘My brave boy! You are misusing your strength with all this monkey-business. From now on, you must use it only for the sake of your friends and family; never again for yourself. You’ll keep your strength and skills very quiet and show them only in times of dire need. That’s an order; and to enforce it, you’ll wear this’, and tied a golden fillet or ribbon on the young Vaanar’s head.

Said the sage: ‘There! Now, if you make any more mischief, whoever’s around you will recite the Tight-Fillet-Verse and give you a headache, and remind you of your promise’.

Hanuman answered: ‘Yes sir’, and he was never so mischievous again.

Four years later…

‘Hanuman, cadet Pavanputra!’.

‘Here, sir!’.

It was the start of the training every young prince and nobleman underwent, and in fact every youth of Kshatriya status, down to the son of the lowliest foot-soldier. On this day, Hanuman stood with dozens of other youths in the assembly-grounds at Pampapur, ready to begin their training, while their training-master, the sage Subodhi, called the roll. Also present, right beside Hanuman, was Sugreev, younger son of the Vaanar king and queen, easily recognizable by the clan-seal he wore, as all the boys did, at their girdles.

Before coming, Hanuman had been told by his first teacher, Suraj the Vayuputra: ‘Make friends with Sugreev, and look after him. His family claims descent from Surya, the sun god, who is also my namesake and ancestor, and so I am personally interested in him. He is a prince as well and deserves a protector. When he’s at home, his elder brother Vali can look after him; when Vali is not around, you must. It’s an old tradition, both here and abroad, for a noble to defend his prince and fight his wars and go on adventures for him; and that, we have decided, is your task’.

Hanuman said: ‘I should be proud and honoured to do it, Guruji’.

Now, as Subodhi called name after name of new recruits, Hanuman answered to his own, but at the same time kept an eye on Sugreev. At length, Subodhi called, ‘Sugreev, cadet Suryakumar!’.

There was silence; then Hanuman nudged Sugreev and said, laughing, ‘That’s you, blockhead!’.

Shamefaced, Sugreev stumbled to the front of the class, where the training-master looked him up and down and said, ‘What’s your name, cadet?’.

Sugreev muttered: ‘You know my name’.

The other boys tittered (except Hanuman) and Subodhi said, ‘I know it, yes. The question is, Do you know it? Can you answer it when you hear it? What was the name by which I called you, a moment ago?’.

Sugreev muttered: ‘Cadet Suryakumar’.

The training-master looked over the ranks of the other students and asked, ‘By what name did I call this boy just now?’.

They answered in chorus: ‘Cadet Suryakumar, sir!’, and the training-master looked back at Sugreev and said: ‘See you don’t forget it next time, cadet’.

Sugreev muttered: ‘I won’t;–– sir’.

The training-master said: ‘That’s right, and you won’t forget this either: from the moment he starts training, a cadet’s vocabulary consists mostly of two words. Any idea of what they are?’.

Sugreev muttered: ‘Yes, sir’.

The training-master said: ‘Precisely! And you’ll say them whenever a superior officer tells you anything, until you’re an officer yourself. Some of you’, he said to them all, ‘are born to be officers. Some of you will become officers anyway, whether you have the aptitude for it or not, because your families insist on it. Those, it may surprise you to learn, are not the same thing. Some of you have the makings of an officer, but’ll never get it because your families don’t have the power to make it so. The one is a matter of guna, of innate talents and tendencies; the other is one of karm, of actions and their consequences: your own, here and now, or those of your ancestors, or of yourselves in a previous life. Neither of these can be wished away, or even changed very much. But it’s my dharm, my duty, to make sure each of you does his very best at whatever he does. I may not succeed, but I will never stop striving for it. Neither should you. That’s our first rule. Now, everyone to your quarters. Tomorrow, the real work begins’.

The cadets all answered: ‘Yes sir!’, and trooped off to their quarters.

As they turned in, Sugreev said to Hanuman: ‘Thanks for nudging me earlier. I feel like I’ve just been saved from a mad elephant. I really made a jackass of myself, didn’t I?’.

Hanuman answered: ‘No more than the usual first-year cadet. You’ve a lot to learn, Sugreev, the same as the rest of us. We’ve all got a long way to go, and it’s best we get started now’.

Said Sugreev: ‘You’re right; but I daresay my brother didn’t miss it when they called him Cadet Indrakumar’.

Hanuman asked: ‘Why that? Shouldn’t his name be Suryakumar, the same as yours?’.

Sugreev answered: ‘Same mother; different fathers. But we grew up together, as close as full brothers or better. I honestly miss him now’.

Said Hanuman: ‘Well, don’t worry about it. As long as I’m around, you’re never alone’.

Chapter Text

Training was hard work. It consisted of daylight hours spent in heavy exercises, from gentle yogic asanas to ferocious mock-combats almost as hard as real fighting (except nobody was killed or crippled), and other days spent memorizing endless verses from the Vedas, Shastras, and other books of wisdom. The cadets rose at the crack of dawn and went to bed at the fall of night, with hardly a morsel of food or a sip of water between rounds of laps, one-armed handstands, swordsmanship, archery, wrestling, boxing, leaping, swimming, throwing, running, and sparring. Besides that there were also lessons in poetry, mathematics, history, chemistry, natural science, medicine, languages, gardening, and building.

In training with the other cadets, Hanuman found himself more and more in the company of Sugreev. A jolly, good-natured, bonhomous relationship soon sprang up between the young prince and his new friend, and before long they were side-by-side from dawn to dusk. This was very good for Sugreev, who often leapt before he looked and seemed always to be in trouble, unless he had a friend at hand to point out his mis-steps.

Halfway through their years of training, Sugreev accordingly turned to him and said: ‘Hanuman, I’ll be lost without you. When I’m viceroy or secondary king alongside my brother, will you come with me and be my second, in turn? I don’t think I can do without it, if you’re not there’.

Hanuman answered: ‘You can do better than you think, my friend; but of course I’ll come’.

At that, Sugreev laughed and threw his arms around his friend and said, 'Thank the gods! I don't know what I'd've done if you said No'.

Hanuman answered: ‘Nothing in the three worlds could make me say No, but even if there were, you'd still have Vali, your brother and king'.

Sugreev said, 'Vali's my brother and king, yes, but he's always been more king than brother; whenever I've made a mistake and he didn't make it with me, it was always, "You got yourself into this, so figure it out yourself!" from him. That's why I need someone like you, to help me figure it out'.

Hanuman answered: ‘Then I'll make sure never to fail you, my prince'.

Sugreev said, 'None of that! I'm not your prince yet, until we go home. Right now we're still only brother pupils, or did you forget that? Of course not. Hanuman never forgets! All the gurus say so. But now you've reminded me, let's think about the banquets I'll throw for you when we reach Kishkindh. No more plain fruit and coconut-water for us then! And you'll know what real heroes look like when you see Vali. They say he even drove off the demon king Ravan once! He'll tell you all about it when we get there', and off they went to enjoy what remained of their free hour, before practice started anew.

In addition to all this, Hanuman in particular had his Vayuputra training, which his guru conducted secretly, out of hearing of the other cadets. This made the other cadets very jealous and anxious to hear what precisely their mentors had been teaching him; to which Hanuman only said: ‘I would never forgive myself for keeping secrets from you, my academic elder brothers. See what I can do!’, and demonstrated a few of the more difficult exercises for them. A great favourite among these was a trick called the cloud-somersault, which carried him over everybody’s heads and back down, as far as he himself could throw a stone (and this was very far indeed, even for a Vanar), and landed him perfectly back on his feet.

One day, training-master Subodhi saw Hanuman demonstrate this feat before a crowd of admiring cadets, called him aside, and said to him: ‘You rascal! What do you mean, showing off like that?’.

Hanuman said: ‘Guruji, I was only displaying your teaching, so the others would appreciate your brilliance. They are my fellow-pupils, and therefore my foster-brothers, and some of them are older to me. It wouldn’t be seemly to hide things from my various elder brothers, sir, would it?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Fellow-pupils, foster-brothers, or whatever, you aren’t to go showing off what you’ve done ahead of the rest, whether the rest are your classmates or senior students or other people out there in the wide world. I thought your first guru already told you that, and that’s why you wear the golden fillet on your head’.

Said Hanuman: ‘Yes, Guruji, that’s precisely why’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Then live by it! Don’t show off anymore! If people see you, they’ll either want to do as you do, or want you to do it for them. If you don’t refuse them the knowledge, they’ll use it irresponsibly and hurt themselves, or at worst hurt others, and if you do, they’ll attack you; and if you waste the trick showing off, you’ll not have it when the real need comes. Don’t play around with it! If you must practice, practice in secret. There’s a reason why we do that, and I’ve just said it’.

Said Hanuman: ‘Forgive me, Guruji. I promise I won’t show off anymore’.

Subodhi answered: ‘See that you don’t’.

Hanuman asked: ‘But, Guruji, you said, If people see, and I don’t refuse them the secret, they’ll use it irresponsibly. Is this what brought about the menace of King Ravan?’.

Subodhi asked: ‘How did you hear about that?’.

Hanuman said: ‘Everyone talks about it; I won’t say who, Guruji, because I don’t want anyone punished for it except myself’.

Subodhi answered: ‘That’s honourable of you, even if it does make you look both brave and cowardly’.

Hanuman asked: ‘How is it both brave and cowardly, Guruji?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Brave, because you’ll take the punishment; and cowardly, because you only take it for fear of letting it fall on the others, and having them annoyed at you for it. But as for Ravan: Yes and No. Ravan is using his power irresponsibly, at least against his neighbours. Within his own kingdom he uses it responsibly. Plenty of kings and chiefs and magistrates, and potentates of every shape, size, and description are like that. But few do it as grandly and ostentatiously as Ravan. He has made the Asura people great in South Jambudvipa; there’s no denying it. They live in riches all around them, in peace and happiness, in safety and security. But he’s done it at the cost of making everyone else live in poverty, in anxiety and sorrow, in danger and uncertainty. That’s what makes him a menace’.

Hanuman asked: ‘But, Guruji, don’t all kings and potentates do that?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Nearly all, yes. But they ought not to, as you yourself can see; and it is your future responsibility as a Vayuputra, and that of your Vishnu, whoever it is, to make another way for them. A new kind of Raj, of kingship, if you like, in which the safety and prosperity of one people does not always mean the massacre and plunder of another’.

Hanuman asked: ‘What must we do, to ensure this new responsible exercise of power?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Maruti, it is the business of those who rule to show a responsible exercise of power, and that of those they rule over to be devoted to them if they are good rulers, and to hate them if they are not. Vayuputras, on the other hand, are king-makers, and occupy a position in the middle’.

He went on: ‘You heard me say, when training began, Some of you are born to be officers. Some of you will become officers anyway, whether you have the aptitude for it or not, because your families insist on it. Those, it may surprise you to learn, are not the same thing. Yet, I say now, they get treated as the same thing, for the sake of the present hereditary caste-system. This system results in officers and rulers who have no real aptitude for either position; who inherit nothing of the martial character of their ancestors. Despite what the caste-system teaches, many of the necessary gunas [qualities] are not hereditary after all, and even if they are, it seldom outlasts more than a few generations. At present, the kings, the Brahmins, and leaders of every sort are perfectly suited to peaceful times when there isn’t much to do, but not at all suited to the times that try men’s skills. That too is a reason Ravan became a menace’.

Hanuman asked: ‘But, Guruji, even before Ravan came, King Dashrath of Ayodhya had subdued many other kings. It was for that reason he was honoured with the title of Chakravarti Samraat;–– that is, of Emperor’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Maruti, what kind of wars, what sort of conquests, what kind of name and fame did Dashrath achieve? Or any other kings? The Emperor’s so-called conquests were all little, insignificant, inconsequential local squabbles over a few square measures of pasture, a herd of cows, or water-rights along the rivers. They were small matters one and all, hardly worthy of the name of War. He was only showing off, conquering the same kings his father conquered before him, and his father’s father before him, and his father’s grandfather before him, and so on ever since Ayodhya was founded. After that he was overlord only in name, while the other kings ruled their own kingdoms and paid tribute to him. He burned their harvests of grain and oil in the grand yagnas, the ceremonies that consecrated his rule, to keep them from feeding and equipping armies against him; and so, he had no stronger enemy to face next time. Of real war, he had no idea. Neither had the other kings. And so they were easily defeated when Ravan took the field against them. It is only because Ravan's Lanka is so far away they pay no tribute to him now, and because it is so far away, and the other kings don't know the way thither, he can raid them at will, without warning, without fear of retribution’.

Hanuman said: ‘In that case, Guruji, what we need are kings who understand real war’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Not only that, but who understand the arts of peace as well. A ruler who understands war and nothing else is a tyrant. Even Ravan is better than that; listen to his royal propaganda! The Lankans extol his wisdom as much as his strength. They call him long-armed and twenty-armed for his prowess as a warrior, but also ten-headed, for his intelligence and learning. They gather by the thousands to listen to him play on the vina, the instrument of a master musician. They consider it an honour to have murals painted by their king. This is no mere boasting;–– Ravan is an accomplished artist and musician;–– but even if it were, it shows he understands the needs of kingship. Yet he is a menace nonetheless and must be stopped; because, not content with making Lanka the equal of Heaven, he is making every other kingdom into a living Hell with his raids and embargoes’.

Hanuman said: ‘In that case, Guruji, what we need is his equal in both peace and war, and in wisdom as well, but devoted to the cause of righteousness’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Yes, and much more. That’s where we come in. There are times, Maruti, when something big and important must be done, to save the land and its people from their own mistakes and the invasions of others, all at once; but in some of those times, as now, none of the rulers have any idea of what must be done, nor enough power to do it, and neither do any coalitions of the people. In times like this, one needs an incarnation of Lord Vishnu, to show the world a new and better way of life; or, if conditions are even worse, a Mahadev, to destroy the order of things-as-they-are and establish another’.

Hanuman asked: ‘Which, Guruji, does the present time need?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘An incarnation of Vishnu, of course. On that, we Vayuputras are in agreement with the Malayputras’.

Hanuman asked: ‘May I ask, Guruji, what they disagree on?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘The Malayputras believe (and most of the rulers of the Sapt Sindhu agree with them) the next incarnation should do to the Sapt Sindhu as Ravan has done to Lanka: made it great and terrible, and lorded it over the other kingdoms through the power of fear, awe, and envy. We Vayuputras have a different idea. There are, we believe, two kinds of Chakravarti, of universal ruler. One makes all the known world his kingdom. The other, makes place for all living creatures in his heart. The first is such as Ravan has become, and Dashrath of Ayodhya before him, and Dashrath’s grandfather Raghu; the second is what we aspire to create’.

Chapter Text

Another time, Subodhi said to Hanuman, ‘You must know, disciple, ours is a troubled land’.

Hanuman answered: ‘This I know, Guruji, but I recall the scripture which says, In times of trouble, the Supreme Lord Protector takes mortal birth, to restore the balance’.

Subodhi said: ‘That is true; and it is our task, to seek out that One, and strive alongside him, or her, to that end’.

Hanuman said: ‘May I ask, Teacher, if there is one such now on life, and who it is?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘There are several possibilities. The last two incarnations, Vaman and Parshuram, were of the scholarly caste of the Brahmins, and it is now the turn of the Kshatriyas, the royals and warriors. Among those, now, there are only two families in which there is any promise. One is the family of the emperor Dashrath, who has four sons, resplendent in every virtue. The other is the king of Mithila, who has two wise and beautiful daughters’.

Said Hanuman: ‘If the princes were wedded to the princesses, perhaps they could all be heroes together’.

Subodhi answered: ‘That is indeed the plan’.

Hanuman asked: ‘Guruji, what made Lord Parshuram so famous as an incarnation of Vishnu?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘What made him? Nothing. Lord Parshuram is famous, because he was the last avatar of Vishnu before our time, and people always remember latest things best. As for what he actually did: Lord Parshuram conquered the Hundred Kingdoms of the Age of Heroes, and re-arranged them into the Seven Domains of the Sapt Sindhu. You know that already. In Lord Parshuram’s day, nobles, kings, and princes were allowed to do whatever they pleased and take whatever they wanted, for any reason or no reason at all. They were not even required to respect the Brahmins, who even then were in name at least a higher caste. When a class of people is allowed to do as they please and take what they want, and no-one is allowed to question them, what do you expect to happen?’.

Said Hanuman: ‘History teaches, Guruji, it makes them unfeeling, rash, and cruel, and unwilling to listen to advice, even for their own benefit'.

Subodhi answered: ‘Yes; exactly right. And so it was with the Kshatriyas of the Hundred Kingdoms, until Lord Parshuram came along with his axe'.

Said Hanuman: ‘But I wonder, Guruji, is there no way to be privileged in this way, and not become an oppressor?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Yes, there is a way. That is what we call dharm, and in particular the kshatriya dharm, the warrior code. But when that code is abandoned, it must be re-established. Even though Lord Parshuram exterminated the Kshatriyas of his day, he still re-established dharm, and for this reason is remembered as an incarnation of Vishnu. He also got rid of one of their reasons for arrogance. The Kshatriyas of his time believed themselves a master-race on account of racial purity. In actual fact there is no such thing. People mingle, and there is no-one on Earth who does not have some mixed ancestry. But the Kshatriyas of Lord Parshuram’s day believed themselves racially pure, or as near as makes no difference, and therefore, believed themselves inherently superior to all other castes and communities. That too is a lie. Every people, every tribe, every caste, every lineage, has its day in the sun. The privileges of this world, which the people of Pariha call the divine Farr, those of Akkad call the blessing of the gods, and those of the Yellow River basin call the Mandate of Heaven, come and go, and it is possible to lose this blessing before one’s time through sheer carelessness.

The Kshatriyas of Lord Parshuram’s time had forgotten this. Therefore they roamed the land, killing and plundering, and fought among themselves without rhyme or reason. Lord Parshuram was a Brahmin and not normally allowed to raise weapons, but all the same he did, and killed off all those who behaved with such arrogance, and spared only their wives and daughters. These in turn took husbands from other castes, and so did away with the imagined racial purity which allowed the Kshatriyas to grow so cruel in the first place’.

Said Hanuman: ‘Then, it is not the caste that makes the men, but the men who make the caste’.

Subodhi answered: ‘Precisely so; and likewise for nations, peoples, lineages, and all the rest’.

Hanuman asked: ‘Then, Guruji, what is to be done about the caste-system, if anything?’.

Subodhi answered: ‘The Malayputras have an idea, and for once we Vayuputras agree with them again. The idea is, Caste should not be assigned at birth, but at the child’s coming of age in its fifteenth year. Until then, all children must receive the same education, in what learning is common to all the castes and subcastes: the Vedas, the Shastras, and all other branches of itihasa, of tradition. Only when the child is of age and its guna are known, should it be especially trained in the arts of memorization and teaching, if a Brahmin; in the arts of war and politics, for a Kshatriya; in economics and handicrafts, for a Vaishya; in skilled work of all kinds, for a Shudra. For our part, the Vayuputras have added a further reform: the Amrit, the nectar of immortality, and its brother potion the Somras, must be shared among people of all castes and status, rather than limited to the Kshatriyas and Brahmins as it is now’.

Chapter Text

Because the Vayuputras spent much of their time training in Paradeeza, the secret garden at the heart of the western land of Persia, Hanuman became adept in the use of the kamund: the noose of plaited cords carried by the greatest Parsi warriors.

Originally, before the Parsis built cities, when they were simple, semi-nomadic cowherds, this device had been invented to round up stray cattle. With the coming of civilization and war, it became a weapon, especially to capture an enemy officer alive in the course of the combat, or to draw him near for the purpose of killing him. It was a prized instrument among the Vanars as well and many of their best warriors carried them. Seeing them dangling from the Vanar warriors’ belts, other people called them ‘Monkey’s tails’, and the name stuck. Hanuman became a master of the ‘Tail’ and was seldom seen without it.

In other countries to the far north and west, the kamund was still used for its original purpose of herding cattle, and there known as the riata. The Vanars heard of this from their kinsmen in the underground city of Shanidar, the Land of Saturn, in the realm of the Annunaki to the west, where the descendants of the mighty King Sargon ruled the river city of Akkad; and the Vanars of Shanidar in turn learnt it from another settlement of their people, much further north, in the faraway Valley of Neander.

It was with this in mind, Hanuman asked Subodhi one day: ‘Guruji, I have heard all the subcontinent and much of the land beyond once belonged to the Vanars. There are still some in other countries (where they live among other peoples like the Yakshas, the fairy-folk); but we are few and far between in comparison to the Manavas, the descendants of Manu, who now occupy much of the known world. Is this a bad thing? Are we to disappear altogether? If so, why?’.

Subodhi said: ‘Maruti, because I am a Manav myself I might be considered to speak from self-interest. But I do not. History, my pupil, is in part comprised of the mixing of different peoples, and often that mixing comes about through invasion or immigration. Sometimes this immigration is peaceful, and the invader marries into the native population and becomes assimilated. Just as often, the invasion is violent, or partly so, and the two peoples remain distinct. Either course of events can end in peace, if each side comes to respect the other. If not, there is resentment between them for a long time. The Manavas are still new in this land, even if they now consider it theirs. As such, your people have the right and the duty to guide and protect them, so even if they come to conquer or replace you, your people will always be remembered. The alternative course is to hold out against the invader; but that almost never succeeds, and brings death and destruction to both sides and all the land.

Ravan, in a way, represents the result of that decision to hold out against the invader. His people, the Asuras, descendants all of the ancient Asura Empire, were once the rulers of all the subcontinent and many lands beyond. When the Aryas came, who now hold most of the Sapt Sindhu, the Asuras resisted them, and that resistance was driven further and further south, until it came to be centred on Lanka. When Ravan vanquished the Emperor Dashrath at Karachapa, he put an end to that southward conquest. It was really for that reason he usurped the throne of Lanka from his brother Kuber: to use Kuber’s wealth to equip armies and put a stop to the expansion of the Aryas, rather than make concession after concession as Kuber did’.

Hanuman asked: ‘Then was Ravan right in what he did, Guruji?’.

Subodhi said: ‘He did it for a right reason, but what he has done since is wrong. Ravan had the chance to make peace;–– to force the Sapt Sindhu and the Asuras to live in peace;–– but instead, he made more enemies, when he imposed raids and embargoes instead of peace-treaties. As a result of those raids and embargoes, the rulers and the people alike of the Sapt Sindhu hate and fear him, and that is very much a cause of war, if they had but the strength and unity to wage it. Meanwhile, Ravan has taught his own people to think of themselves as inherently superior to all others, just as the Kshatriyas did in Lord Parshuram’s day, and declared himself the greatest of all, Lord of the Three Worlds. Thus he and his followers live in luxury, celebrating the end of a war long past, and yet not past enough for people to put aside their resentments, while those he defeated still resent him, and we who watch believe he has mismanaged his power’.

Besides all these lectures, Hanuman’s Vayuputra training meant long journeys across Jambudvipa and the lands beyond, to hear what people said and see what they did, and find out what they wanted, needed, and believed. Very soon he was known and trusted all over the Sapt Sindhu; which in theory meant the whole subcontinent, but in practice meant only the Seven Rivers themselves and the lands around: from Lothal Port in the west to the mouths of the Ganga and Brahmaputra rivers in the east, and from the valley of Svat in the north to the river Narmada in the south. North-east of Ganga and Brahmaputra lay the Himalayas, the Snowcapped Mountains, the highest peaks in the world, where people were few and far between, and lived on the highest plateaux, herding sheep and worshipping the local gods. South of the Sapt Sindhu, the interior was uncharted by either the Vanars or the Aryas, and the coast belonged mostly to Ravan, the enemy of both. Beyond that, lay Ravan’s own capital on the island of Lanka, off the southern tip of the subcontinent; but neither the Aryas nor the Vanars knew any precise route to that. It suited Ravan to keep the way to and from Lanka secret from all but his own people, so none of his enemies might bring armies to the attack.

Everywhere else, Hanuman went freely, and mixed with many peoples and learnt all their laws and languages. This was the beginning of a lifelong interest in the study of language, and an equally long-lasting love of music, which stood him in good stead in after years.

Chapter Text

Five years passed. Training went on. The cadets grew older and stronger and ran faster, leapt higher, and fought harder each day. Hanuman was evermore at the feet of Guru Subodhi, hearing this and that about the proper uses of power and how to recognize a true and deserving leader when he saw one.

'A true hero', said Subodhi, 'has control of his senses and does not hanker after pleasure, any more than a sage does. He is attentive to righteousness, is grateful for good deeds done to him, is gracious, is kind, speaks only truth and never gives up. He is fearless; not out of ignorance or bravado, but out of skill, knowledge, and confidence. He is never jealous, or if he is, does not act on jealousy, nor greed, nor anger. He cares for all he meets, and is not afraid to act. Such a one is worthy of respect, and him, even the gods fear when he goes to war'.

Hanuman asked, 'Are there any such people in the world today, Guruji?'.

His Guru answered: 'A few, and it is your dharm to serve them, Maruti'.

Hanuman asked, 'Are they the next incarnations of Vishnu?'.

His Guru answered: 'Possibly, if any such arise in this day and age. But incarnations are not the only heroes in the world, and you must watch over any you find'.

Hanuman asked, 'How will I find them?'.

His Guru answered: 'You can only serve one, and he will find you. I will not prejudice you with a list of names. One must learn to expect the unexpected. For now, serve Suryakumar. He is brave, but careless, and needs your protection. When you find your true master, enthrone him on your heart! But until then, carry on as you are'.

Between such lectures, Hanuman carried on training with the other cadets in music, language, martial arts, and political science. Before long, they could all play the vina and the tabla, and other instruments, recite whole scriptures from memory, and wield the mace, the sword, the staff, the javelin, the trident, the battle-axe, and any combination of bows and arrows with equal ease, though none as well as Hanuman. Every year, Sugreev repeated his promise to make Hanuman his second, when the time came, and Hanuman graciously accepted it.

More years passed, and the cadets graduated.

Guru Subodhi stood and said: ‘All rise, cadets, whom I call by that name for the last time. Come here and take your old teacher’s blessings!’, and the new graduates went to him one-by-one to touch his feet and hand over their gurudakshina, their teacher’s fees, the packets of tuition-money they had saved up all through the years of training.

Then said their guru: ‘Gentlemen;–– for I cannot call you “Boys” any longer;–– I congratulate you a thousand times. You’ve all studied and you’ve read, and your memory, at least, is a credit to your teachers. Now comes the rest of your lives and the true test of your learning. Some of you are destined for one task, others for another. But whatever is your lot in life to do, do it well. May the blessings and peace of Heaven be upon you all’.

With that, the next year's cadets put garlands around the necks of the graduates, while musicians filled the air and made the heavens ring with the thumping of drums and the blare of conches, and the local children scattered scented water on the path and threw flowers over everyone.

As the music died down, Sugreev turned to Hanuman and said, ‘Now, are you coming with me to Kishkindh to be my right-hand-man, as we promised?’.

Hanuman answered: ‘Of course I am;–– my prince’, and the two laughed and cried and clung together, then set off arm-in-arm to join Sugreev’s escort.

Chapter Text

Kishkindh, the royal city of the Vanars, was neither as vast nor as ornate as the cities of the Manavas, but grand and splendid in its own right. It had its own wall, with sentry-posts in the proper places, high gates carved in the shapes of gods and fairy-folk flying across the Heavens, and caves and secret passages to hide the people in days of siege. There were wells brimming with water even in the driest of dry seasons, and granaries stocked with food enough for the hardest famine. There were beautiful, symmetrical gardens, well-laid roads, and houses for all the people. In the very center was the royal house, open to all and guarded by the bravest Vanar soldiers.

On the throne sat Vali: a slightly older edition of Sugreev, but otherwise very much like him in every particular.

As they entered, Vali said, ‘All rise, and welcome your prince!’, and the whole court blew conches, beat drums, and showered flowers on Sugreev and Hanuman.

Sugreev bowed to Vali, who embraced him and said, ‘Welcome home, little brother. And welcome, honoured guest’.

Sugreev corrected him: ‘Brother and King, Hanuman is no guest, but my friend, and he has promised to stay and be my right-hand-man, just as I am yours’.

With a smile, Vali answered: ‘Then so be it. Hear me now, everyone! Henceforth and forthwith, let it be known by all, my royal brother is my viceroy and second self, and you shall respect and honour and obey him as you do me. And Hanuman-ji, likewise. What say you, Vanars?’.

At that, the whole assembly clapped and cheered and blew their conches and beat their drums and showered flowers again, and made the welkin ring with cries of ‘Jai Vali! Jai Sugreev! Jai Hanuman!’. Vali seated Sugreev at his side, with Hanuman just slightly below them, and announced, ‘Now, let the celebrations begin!’, and the whole assembly cheered and leapt and danced, blew trumpets and sounded drums and showered flowers.

The celebrations lasted three days. Vali gave away huge amounts of food and treasure to everyone who came to his door. In the small hours between the third and the fourth day, Sugreev asked Hanuman, 'Well, what do you think? Isn't Vali a king to follow? Isn't he great? Do you see now how he overcame even the terrible Ravan?'.

Hanuman answered, 'Indeed I do'. But inwardly, he was troubled.

Chapter Text

Once he came to live at Kishkindh, Hanuman soon found it was like no where he had lived before. All power rested in the hands of Vali the king, and so much of a courtier's life, or a warrior's, or even a common citizen's was spent in trying to catch the royal ear. All power at Kishkindh lay in the hands of Vali, and Vali used it like his father Indra: he was quick to strike and just as quick to spare, and without warning.

One day, for example, the outer guards captured two Manavas and brought them to Vali. Sugreev and Hanuman came to see them, and so did all the Vanars of the court. One of the Manavas, who seemed the less modest of the two, spoke up first: ‘My lord, who are you? Where are we? Who are all these people?’.

With a grin, Vali asked back: ‘Who do you think we are, sirrah?’.

The first man said: ‘You, my lord, are the king here, and these are your subjects, your advisors, your warriors, priests, sages, and wise counsellors’.

At that, Vali slapped his arms and thighs and nodded, and all the Vanars did the same and shouted ‘Jai Vali! Maharaj ki jai!’.

Then Vali turned to the second man and asked: ‘And you? Who do you think we are, sirrah?’.

The second man said: ‘You are a monkey, and all these people with you are monkeys also!’.

At that, Vali’s eyes shone like molten copper. He roared and stamped, huffed and puffed, and all the Vanars stamped and bellowed with him, except Hanuman. Vali said, ‘Throw these fools out!’, and the assembled Vanars grabbed their captives and hurled them over the walls of Kishkindh and chased them away.

This was typical of Vali's policy toward visitors, and happened many times.

In the years that followed, Hanuman learned anew the old lesson his guru taught him, to be swift and slow at the same time. As an attaché to the king's brother, Hanuman himself was now part of the royal entourage, and the other Vanars were always coming to him asking him to advise Vali in favour of their plans. To most of these, Hanuman said, "I am Sugreev's man, not Vali's; the senior king himself doesn't listen to me", and sent them away with that; a few he referred to Sugreev, and Sugreev to Vali. He also heard Vali's story of defeating Ravan.

'This I have heard', said one of Vali's praise-singers: 'Our king was engrossed in meditation, in the early years of his reign, when his son the prince Angad was but a child, and the king himself had no enemies living. He left the city that day and went into a secluded spot to meditate. To that spot came Ravan, guided by we know not what evil advice, alone and unescorted, less like a king than a thief. More like a thief than a king, he crept up behind our lord and seized the end of his kamund where it hung behind King Vali's back. Directly he felt that, Vali rose, took the kamund by the other end, and tossed its noose around the intruder. Not knowing who he was, he tied him up and dragged him here, to this very hall, to hold him up for all of us to ridicule.

At first, no-one here recognized Ravan, and so we all laughed and joked and threw things at him, as we might any common prisoner. At last the most wise Sushen, the king's uncle and close advisor, came to the fore of the crowd, and his eyes grew wide and his face pale with shock. Said he, "Vali, do you know whom you have for your captive?".

Vali said: "I know it is a cowardly thief who crept up behind me and tried to steal my kamund. Were I a sage I would have cursed him".

Sushen answered, "This is no ordinary thief. This is Ravan, king of Lanka! Is this any way for one king to treat another?".

At that, Vali untied Ravan and begged his pardon, and told him he might depart in peace. And so he did'.

Hanuman thanked the singer for this story, gave him a reward, and returned to Sugreev.

Besides his post at court, Hanuman also went annually to see informants in other parts of the subcontinent. One of his favourite sources was a bard called Narad.

Said Narad: ‘Namaskar, Hanuman-ji! God be thanked who brought you here to honour my house again, whatever god brought you here. Here, have some water, and sit down. What can I do for you?’.

As courtesy demanded, Hanuman accepted the drink and the seat, and said: ‘Namaskar to you, Narad. Glad though I am to see you, it’s not only a social visit. I’ve heard a Devi astra, a divine weapon, was launched in the city-kingdom of Mithila. You’re the best man I know for news, so I’ve come to you to hear more about it’.

Narad answered: ‘Mithila? Why, yes. You came to the right man! I know all about it. It’s really quite a story!’.

Hanuman said: ‘I’m all ears. Let’s have it’.

His eyes shining, Narad narrated:

‘It seems King Janak of Mithila wanted to get his daughters married at last, and so he arranged a grand swayamvar, a courtship-test, where Princess Sita, his elder daughter, would invite a few dozen kings and princes and put them all to a test designed by herself. Whoever passed the test, would win her hand; and if he had a younger brother or cousin still unmarried, that cousin or brother would win her younger sister, Princess Urmila. You know, Hanuman-ji, Mithila’s been on hard times for 30 years and not the great center of trade and learning it used to be; but a decent number of kings and princes came, including Ram and Lakshman, two of the sons of Emperor Dashrath of Ayodhya.

Everyone was surprised when Ram and Lakshman entered the swayamvar. They had no formal invitation, and were introduced simply as disciples of Rishi Vishvamitra. Of course, everyone knows the Ayodhya royals have always been disciples of his rival, Rishi Vashishtha. But there they were, in Rishi Vishvamitra’s train, all the same. A dozen other kings and princes were there;–– and even King Ravan of Lanka!’.

Hanuman was surprised, and said: ‘Ravan? Of all the kings and princes King Janak could’ve invited, why and how did he invite Ravan? Ravan is too old for Sita;–– old enough to have a daughter of her age!;–– and what advantage could he possibly have from an alliance with Mithila?’.

Narad answered: ‘My friend, my brother, you must be playing dumb. You know perfectly well a marriage-alliance with any of the Sapt Sindhu would give Ravan more power over the northern kingdoms. As a royal son-in-law, he could even sit down in one of their palaces and carouse all night with wine and dancing-girls, and no-one would stop him (unless one of the girls got up the courage to run a sword through him in the course of the dance!). He hasn’t enjoyed those privileges until now, because none of the northern royalty would trust him with their daughters. There’ve been times when his own relatives couldn’t do that! Rumours say he tried to have his way with his own brother Kuber’s daughter-in-law, against her will and everyone else’s, and she only just managed to escape. But this swayamvar was open to all comers with even the slightest streak of royal blood, and so he came.

The test itself was fairly simple: to lift and string the great bow Pinaka, which (as you know) has for centuries been an heirloom of King Janak’s house, and was most famously used by Lord Rudra, the Mahadev. At this swayamvar, the kings and princes all took their turns trying to lift it. But, as you know, it’s as hard and heavy as an iron bar, and a thousand-odd years since Lord Rudra wielded it have only made it harder and heavier. None could move that bow, nor stir it; not even Ravan, for all his twenty-armed strength, could do more than that, not to speak of stringing it or setting an arrow to it.

But Ram did. How he did it I don’t know, unless by some secret art of the sages; but he did. He went last, after the other princes sat and Ravan stormed off in disgust. They say he waited until last because he was the youngest present, and to give up any advantage he might have as a son of the mighty Raghav dynasty;–– whatever that means; it’s a long time since that dynasty’s power was any more than a name. But he waited, and he went last. He lifted the bow almost with ease, and held it up with one hand while he bent the higher end with the other, preparatory to putting a string around it.

The Pinaka bow (as I said, Hanuman-ji) was as hard and heavy as an iron bar, and so the end of it came down slowly; one could see the prince’s muscles straining to pull its ends together. You could see it in his eyes, his hands, his every limb: either that bow would bend, or he would die trying to bend it’.

Hanuman joked: ‘What do you mean, See it in his eyes? You were hardly there to watch it!’.

Narad answered: ‘No, but I can imagine. Something had to give way, and that something was the bow. It snapped right off, Hanuman-ji; it broke under his strength! The assembly nearly swooned. It broke in half with a crack like thunder, and everyone was stunned;–– everyone except Ram himself, who didn’t falter even then, and Lakshman his brother, whom nothing can frighten, and Rishi Vishvamitra who stood there smiling at the whole affair, and King Janak who was too dignified to be shocked. Sita herself stood motionless, with the garland of victory in her hands, until her lady-companion Radhika nudged her forward. Slowly, slowly, moving like a sleep-walker, Sita came steadily forward and draped the garland of victory over Ram’s neck, and they were married that day’.

When Hanuman heard that, he laughed. It was a perfect plan, he thought; Ram and Sita would marry, and they could both be recognized as incarnations of Vishnu. Even if one of them gathered more authority, and perhaps more recognition than the other, they would still work as one. He said as much to Narad, who answered: ‘Narayan! Narayan! It’s astonishing! Amazing! Marvellous! Staggering! Awesome! Brilliant! Spendid idea!'.

Hanuman laughed again, clapped his friend on the shoulder, and said: ‘You go on singing Narayan, if you’re so surprised as all that. But go on with your story! I don’t suppose Ravan and his Rakshash guards simply marched home after a humiliation like this’.

Narad answered: ‘You know what? I will go on singing Narayan. God works such wonders in such mysterious ways, I’ll sing His name and praises til the day I die! But you’re right, Hanuman-ji: Ravan didn’t go quietly. The day after Ram and Sita’s marriage, he got his troops arrayed for battle and laid siege to Mithila, and pinned the whole city under a rain of spears fired from some newfangled sort of catapault, and arrows from the longest-range bows one can imagine. There was even talk of surrender, in the city, before Rishi Vishvamitra brought out the Asura-astra. You came here to find out about that, so here’s what happened: the Rishi and his regular pupils seem to have been preparing that astra for some time now, and not just that one but dozens more; enough to equip all the heroes ever born. Maybe that’s why the Asuras attacked his ashram in the first place: to stop him, I mean. They say Ram and Lakshman were invited to chase them off or talk them down, or both.

You know, Hanuman-ji, the great sage Vishvamitra was once a king, before he changed caste and became a sage, and he’s still a master of weapons, strategy, and martial arts. He could have driven off the invaders himself; but, I suspect, if he had done that he would prove right all those who might still be sceptical of his change of caste, if he stepped back into his old one even for a moment. It’s strange, you know, but it often happens, when a man rises in society, he makes it near impossible for others to rise after him. Rishi Vishvamitra changed caste, but in so doing he’s made all the authorities of both castes determined not to let it happen again. As a result, he’s the last person of any great importance to do so in living memory, and he might be the last for a long time to come;–– maybe for ever’.

Said Hanuman: ‘No rules last for ever, Narad. You know that. But go on; tell me the rest!’.

Narad answered: ‘With all that in mind, Rishi Vishvamitra dared not use the Asura-astra or any other weapon himself. So he invited Ram and Lakshman to defend his ashram; they killed Subahu, one of the leaders of the raiding-party, and talked his brother Marich and their mother Tataka into giving up the fight. Then it was off with the princes and their new guru to Mithila, where all the rest happened as I’ve told you’.

Said Hanuman: ‘But where and when, then, was the Asura-astra actually used?’.

Narad answered: ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you! They used it against Ravan and his soldiers, when Ravan attacked Mithila to avenge his humiliation at the swayamvar. His soldiers put Mithila under siege, and they were almost inside when Rishi Vishvamitra told Ram to launch the Asura-astra. It worked almost perfectly: the Lankans were all knocked senseless by it, except Ravan himself and his brother Kumbhkaran, and one or two other officers; they were out of the blast-zone and got away in the Pushpak, the last of the flying chariots of the gods, the wondrous flying machine inherited by Ravan’s elder brother Kuber, and seized from him by Ravan along with the throne of Lanka. Their other brother Kumbhkaran, they say, was a little affected, when he shielded Ravan with his own body long enough to mount the Pushpak and escape’.

Said Hanuman: ‘If Kumbhkaran survives that, they’ll have to play drums and throw logs and make elephants walk on him to wake him up again! But is that all?’.

Narad answered: ‘That’s all. The Malayputras rounded up all the Rakshashas rendered unconscious by the Asura-astra, and ransomed them back to Ravan in exchange for his promise never to attack Mithila or her allies and vassals again. Ram and Sita were married the next day, Lakshman was given her sister Urmila, and all four went home to Ayodhya’.

Said Hanuman: ‘So, now Mithila has no heirs, and must be ruled in absentia by Sita’s loyal officers, when King Janak is no more’.

Narad answered: ‘Yes indeed. But what do the sages mean to do about Ram’s unauthorized use of the Asura-astra? They can’t punish Rishi Vishvamitra, or Sita either (for reasons we both know), but they might punish Ram’.

Said Hanuman: ‘Ram is also too valuable to punish; and besides, after hearing the why of it, chances are they’ll forgive him this once’.

Narad answered: ‘You don’t know Ram yet, Hanuman-ji, if you think so. He’s the very incarnation of honour and justice, as well as that of Vishnu. He lives for justice, in both the legal and moral sense. He knows dharm, moral and legal, better than most people know their own names, and every move he makes is according to it. He is a paragon of righteousness and self-control; no-one can find fault with him, as far as those things go. If justice requires him to go into exile, even temporary exile, from his father’s kingdom and all its allies and vassals, he’ll do it, to prove by example that one should always do the honourable thing, no matter what happens. He never harms an innocent, or lets an innocent come to harm, and he never breaks a promise, or lets one be broken. He is righteousness itself and will never do wrong no matter how small’.

Said Hanuman: ‘That’s high praise, even from you, Narad! But surely if the sages forgive him for this lapse, he’ll forgive himself too?’.

Narad answered: ‘Not he. He makes no exceptions for himself, prince or no prince, avatar or no avatar. He says, Dharm is the same for all people high and low, and he lives by that saying in every move he makes’.

Said Hanuman: ‘Well, then, I find myself wanting more and more to meet him, and see for myself what a wonder he is’.

Narad said: ‘You certainly must. But there’s something in all this I don’t understand, Hanuman-ji. Why do the sages punish those who use the Devi Astras without their permission or order?’.

Said Hanuman: ‘Well, Narad, in the ancient days of the Deva-Asura War, when the Devas, the Shining Ones, whom we worship now as gods, fought the Asuras, the Spirit Lords, whom the people of Persia now worship as gods, the Devi Astras were wielded by both sides in every battle, every siege, every meeting of the two sides. They were created for that war, or for even earlier wars before it, and they were wielded indiscriminately, until they nearly destroyed the world. When the war was ended, the Devas held Jambudvipa and many other lands, and the Asuras had the worst of it and retreated to Persia, where they’re worshipped still. Rumour of this war has spread ever since, even to the realms of the Yavanas in the west, and the countries of the Mlecchas beyond. So even there they tell tales of gods and heroes fighting among themselves at the beginning of time. But the Astras have been forbidden ever since, except in times of direst need, and the sages have made it our business to keep it so’.

Said Narad: ‘Thank you for telling me, Hanuman-ji. But even this is not the first unauthorized use of the Astras in our lifetimes. Not long ago, or so I’ve heard, Prince Meghnadh of Lanka, son of the demon king Ravan, captured several dozen divine weapons during his father’s campaigns in the Sapt Sindhu, when he boasted of conquering Indra himself and took the name Indrajit to commemorate it. What became of those?’.

Hanuman answered: ‘Did he? Someday I’ll have to go south and find out if he still has them. They haven’t been used as far as I know, and it’s only use the sages forbid, not possession. He could keep a whole arsenal of them until they lose their potency and turn to harmless stone, and if he never wielded any we wouldn’t bother. It’s not right to punish a man, even the son of a demon king, for what he hasn’t yet done. But if he fired off even one, I’d be honour-bound to put a stop to him’.

Said Narad: ‘That’s re-assuring. I put my trust in you, Hanuman-ji’.