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| HANUMAN AND THE MAGIC HERBS |
| Prince Rama and his monkey army had come to Lanka to rescue Rama’s wife, Sita, who was held prisoner by Ravana, the demon-king of Lanka.
Day after day they fought the huge and well armed forces of Ravana. The battles were long and hard and the monkeys were always outnumbered by the fierce demons. It was only because of the leadership of Rama, his younger brother Lakshmana, their own monkey king Sugreeva, and of course the mighty Hanuman, that the monkeys were not defeated.
Ravana became very angry with his commanders who came back every evening tried and wounded, and always making excuses for their inability to defeat the monkeys. Even his favourite brother, the giant Kumbhakarna, pointed out that the war was entirely Ravana’s fault, and he should never have kidnapped Sita. He should have listened to good advice and returned Sita to her husband when Hanuman had come to his court as Rama’s messenger. Ravana refused to admit his wickedness. “I don’t need your lecture, Brother,” he roared. “It is victory in battle that I need. Go and kill Rama and Lashmana.”
Next day, the mighty Kumbhakarna swallowed whole regiments of the monkey army and spread dreadful terror all around him. Prince Rama attacked and wounded his limbs but the giant demon still fought on. Finally Rama shot an arrow through his neck and killed him. Ravana was dismayed at his brave brother’s death.
When his son, Indrajit, saw Ravana sunk in despair, he comforted him, “Do not worry, father, for I am still here. In this war I have already given the enemy a lot of trouble with my sorcery and magic weapons, and earlier that it was I who captured Hanuman and set his tail on fire. With my magic snake-arrow I tied up both Rama and Lakshmana for a full day, so that they could not join in the battle. Now I will kill Rama and Lashmana; it will be my revenge for my uncle’s death.”
Ravana cheered up. He knew that his son was the greatest warrior alive, for Brahma, the Creator, had given him the boon that no god or demon could defeat him. He had even been victorious in battle over Indra, the king of the gods, and so had been given the name Indrajit, meaning ‘one who has conquered Indra’!
Indrajit now stepped up his secret and magic warfare. He hid behind the clouds where he could see the entire battlefield, but was at the same time invisible to those below. From his hiding place he showered arrows and missiles down at the poor monkeys.
In the middle of the field he noticed the tall, handsome figure of Lakshmana single-handedly fighting five demons. “Now is my chance,” thought Indrajit, “to kill this warrior prince. With his death, Rama and his monkeys will be too heartbroken to fight any more.” Taking no chances, Indrajit aimed a powerful missile that Brahma himself had given him. Reciting a magic verse, he let fly the Brahma missile at Lakshmana.
The magic weapon flew through the clouds and pierced Lakshmana’s chest. It went clean through his heart. Lakshmana cried out and fell to the ground. “He is dead! Lashmana is dead!” shouted the demons in glee, while the monkeys wailed in despair and fled from the battlefield.
Indrajit was happy to have killed Lashmana and immediately flew back to Ravan’s palace to give the good news to the demon-king.
“Father, with my Brahma missile I have killed one of the enemy’s greatest warriors. Prince Lashmana, Rama’s favorite brother, is dead,” boasted Indrajit. All the demons of Lanka rejoiced at this news and danced in abandoned glee.
“The war is now as good as won!” declared Ravana.
The monkeys, in the meantime, were in a panic. The message, “Prince Lashmana is dead!” spread like wildfire. “Then we too will die. All is lost!” cried the monkeys.
News of Lakshmana’s death reached Rama’s ears, but he steeled himself to carry on fighting. Bravely the Prince of Ayodhya fought on. Hanuman too heard the awful news and was dismayed to see the monkeys running away. “Stay and fight, my brothers!” he shouted, “remember your courage and your promise to rescue Sita!” Hanuman turned himself into a giant monkey and fought with doubled energy. The example of Rama and of their great monkey-leader made many of the monkeys turn back and fight on. They fought until the sun set and both armies stopped to rest.
Rama and King Sugreeva went straight to the spot where Lakshmana had fallen. King Sugreeva’s wise monkey doctor, Sushena, examined Lashmana. “Noble Prince Rama, your brother is not yet dead,” said Sushena, “but he is dying. His pulse is extremely weak. I am sorry but there is nothing I can do to save him. By morning he will be dead.”
Placing his brother’s head in his lap, Rama wept softly. You could have lived at the palace in Ayodhya. But your love and loyalty made you follow me into the forest and share my hardships. You made my battle your battle, and now you will soon be dead. How can I ever return to Ayodhya without you? What shall I tell our mother? What shall I tell dear Sita.
Moved by Rama’s grief, King Sugreeva pleaded with Sushena, “You are a great doctor. Surely there is something you can do.”
Sushena shook his head. “Alas, your Majesty, a magic weapon has wounded him. There is only one thing that could save him- the juice of three magic herbs, and even so it must be given to him before the sun rises tomorrow. Since we don’t have the herbs, there is nothing we can do.”
The magic herbs were extremely rare and grew only on the slopes of the Dronagiri Mountain high among the Himalayas, far to the north of India. “There is no way we can go there and get the herbs in time,” said Sushena sadly.
By now Hanuman had joined the little group around Lakshmana. On hearing the doctor’s words, he turned to King Sugreeva and asked for permission to go and bring back the herbs. “Yes,” said the monkey king, thoughtfully, “if anyone can do it, it is you, Hanuman!”
“My friend,” said Rama, “can you really do it? Today you fought hard, and saved us with your courage when all seemed lost. Now you must be tired and the Himalayas are so far away. When you leaped across the ocean from South India to Lanka it was an amazing sight. But now you must cross the ocean again, the whole of India, and then return here to us. All this in one night!”
Hanuman said he would try or die in the attempt. Moved at his devotion, Rama blessed him.
When Hanuman felt Rama’s hand on his head, his tiredness disappeared and new energy flooded though him. He quickly checked the names of the herbs, which were needed, and bidding goodbye, Hanuman leaped into the air.
The vision of his father, Vayu, the powerful god of the Wind, came to him. “Father, I need your strength and your speed as I have never done before,” prayed Hanuman.
Like lightning Hanuman flew over the tall towers of Lanka, the silvery sea, the dark forests and sleeping cities of India. At last he came to the vast and snow-peaked mountains of the Himalayas. Although it was dark he searched feverishly until he found the Dronagiri Mountain, which shone brightly because of the magic herbs, which grew on it.
Frantically Hanuman sought the three herbs, which had been described to him. He found two of the plants without much trouble. Like many of the herbs on the mountain, they radiated a soft glowing light and were sweet-smelling. But the third herb, Sanjivani, he could not find, although he looked all over the mountain. Finally he began to wonder if he had mixed up the description that he had been given.
The hours of the night were passing quickly and Hanuman was still searching. Suddenly he noticed the first faint rays of the sun peeping over the mountaintops.
“O Surya, do not rise yet,” begged Hanuman. “The life of Prince Rama’s brother, brave Lashmana, depends on your not rising.” But the Sun god would not listen and continued to rise.
Hanuman lost his temper. Once before as a child he had tried to catch the sun. Now he made himself enormous in size and sized the Sun god together with his carriage and horses and hid them under one strong arm so that no sunlight peeped out. Desperate at not being able to identify the Sanjivani herb, he tore up the whole mountain by its roots and place it one his shoulder. Then he leapt into the air once more and flew like the wind back to the island of Lanka.
Rama, King Sugreeva and the entire monkey group waited by Lakshmana’s side all night. It was the longest night that Rama had ever passed. As morning approached they looked at the east in despair. The sun would rise at any moment and with it Lakshmana would draw his last feeble breath.
“Look!” cried a monkey, pointing at the sky. A huge bright round object was hurtling towards them. “Oh no, it is the sun!” thought Rama.
As it came nearer, they saw with relief and astonishment that it was Hanuman carrying the brightly shining mountain of herbs. Sushena quickly found the Sanjivani herb. He squeezed out the juice of all three life-saving herbs and poured this precious liquid into the dying man’s mouth. Lakshmana soon opened his eyes and was surprised to see everyone looking anxiously at him. He stood up and stretched himself as if he had just woken from a long sleep. All the monkeys let out screams of joy leaped about and turned somersaults. Rama embraced his brother tenderly and looked up at Hanuman, “Dear friend, you have served me well in so many ways. You have my eternal thanks.” Hanuman smiled and, raising his giant arm, released the sun. |
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