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(c)2003, Bent Lorentzen & DANE, all rights reserved. No parts may in any way be reproduced, copied or used without the author's consent. See email address above for contact.

He was an ordinary Hindu child who, although born to poverty, was extremely happy. He never despaired, though his father often came home to their hut without having sold his wares in the streets.

His parents always embraced their only child with a smile. Thus the day's worries would disappear. The three would loudly talk of their day while devouring meager but spicy morsels of rice and fried vegetables.

Without fail, their conversation always turned to the Ramayana, an ancient tale of heroes and villains, love and God. As the evening dipped into darkness, the boy and his mother would attentively watch as the father reverently lit the butter-ghee lamp by the small murti of Hanuman, and the three bowed in devotion to the monkey God who served Ram. Always the lad felt there was more to the little Hanuman than just brass, or an old story, and one day he asked his father if Hanuman were alive.

"Oh yes, son. Even as we talk he is probably flying over us on some errand for God. Perhaps he must find medicine, or send a message to Sita, Ram's abducted love. Or perhaps he is hungry and wishes to eat the big mango in the sky--"

"Father, you are so funny! Hanuman wouldn't eat the sun!"

With a twinkle in his eyes, the father related the story of Hanuman's birth and how he had been so hungry that he had wanted to eat the sun, which had so looked like a ripe mango.

"Why can't I see him?" asked the boy.

"Son, if you close your eyes and have love in your heart, then you will see him."

The lad was used to such answers and insisted, "Father, I don't mean like that! I want to see him like I see you. I want to feel his fur against my face. Father, I want to fly with him. Why can't I do that?"

The father looked to his wife in the dim light cast by Hanuman's lamp and shrugged. What can I say? he asked silently with his eyes. His wife's eyes answered, Whatever you must say.

So the father thought for a moment. With a burst of inspiration, he grasped his son's shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. "My son, if that's what you want then I promise you will someday see Hanuman as you see me."

The boy was thrilled and hugged his father.

"In fact, my son--" and he went over to a small wooden box by the Hanuman murti and took out something. "Here is a ring just like the one that Ram had Hanuman give Sita in the Asoka grove in Ceylon."

To his mother, the boy's face became brighter than the lamp still flickering in front of the old statue.

"See," and his father pointed to the inscription on the ring. "There is Ram's name."

The mother then spoke up. "Now now! We must go to bed. Tomorrow is a long day and it would be wrong to not give our bodies their needed rest."

It took a very long time for the boy finally to surrender to sleep that night.

Many many years passed. He had offered both his parents' ashes to the Ganges at Kashi in Benares, and he had lost much of his hair. He had never married, and had spent several years alone in the jungles and mountains in meditation. For the past two years he had worked as a grounds-keeper on the property of a rich family. Every night he would bow before the little Hanuman and, as his father, he would offer his day to the monkey God. Before going to sleep he would always whisper, "Tomorrow I'll see you."

He loved working close to the earth. Making beautiful flowers grow, and creating lushness to the land around the mansion was his passion. The rich family accepted his eccentricity, and though he wasn't of the Brahman class, family members confided their difficulties to him. Problems had a tendency of diminishing when presented to him. Sometimes he was ridiculed though, because he acted oddly. And though the caste system was waning, most took it to be as his karma for being an outcaste.

Once, while the family had guests over for a holiday, he burst out of the surrounding forest and jumped as high as he could, all the while happily shouting, "Hanuman Ji! Hanuman Ji!" When he suddenly realized that everyone was staring at him, he bashfully walked away.

"He jumps like that all the time," said the landowner. "I don't know why. --But he works hard."

No worry lines etched his brow, but deep rifts had grown around his mouth. As he worked the gardens, he was often overheard grunting like an animal. And the monkeys in the surrounding woods played about him like one of their own.

When he acted like a monkey, his mind was totally immersed in the Ramayana, especially the Sundrikan. He often envisioned himself running all over for Ram, or jumping to the heavens and flying to retrieve a mountain for want of a medicinal plant. More and more, as he worked, he worked for Ram. Ram was his love and his devotion. He lived for Ram. He breathed for Ram.

But how could Hanuman contain such love? he thought to himself as he fingered the ring his father had long ago given him. At night, he dreamt only of Ram, Sita, and Hanuman. The great monkey God was always before him--sometimes as a mischievous young monkey, but often as an ancient, white-haired monkey living high in the Himalayas, absorbed in his true identity as Shiva. Shiva had come to Earth as a monkey to fulfill a prophecy about humility.

One day, as a hot wind blew and he was struggling to water thirsty plants, he suddenly felt faint. He looked up and to his astonishment saw the mythical flying chariot driven by the evil King Ravana. Mouth dropping in horror, he saw that Sita was being abducted by the monstrous, ten-headed creature. He barely reflected on how unusual it was to have such an apparition.

His heart was torn because he wanted only to bring her back to Lord Ram, but how could he, a lowly servant, do anything about that?

"Sita!" he shouted up to her. "Don't worry. Everything will turn out alright. Ram will rescue you! I've read all about it!"

When she glanced down his heart melted. "I am so grateful," she said, "that you have reminded me of my love. Hurry, you must give me his ring so I'll never forget." She would have said more but one of Ravana's greasy hands went over her mouth while a hideous head looked down at him with a murderous glint.

"Are you all right?" asked a distant voice.

"Oh--" he stammered, looking up to the landowner's wife, "I'm fine. It's just a little hot... and... I was daydreaming."

"You don't look so good." She touched his forehead, something her parents would have thought unclean. "My god, you're hot! I think you should get in the shade and rest for a while. --Here, let me help you up." And she led him to a gazebo. "I'll fetch you a cool drink," she said as he lay down on a bench.

But his mind wasn't on his condition. Sita had asked him to do something. He must find out where Sita had been abducted to. Then he knew! He jumped up and... flew out of the gazebo. This time he was not distracted by the ripe mangos on the trees below. He must find Angada, Jambavan, and all the others frantically searching for Ram's beloved.

And there they were, at the beach. A whole host of monkeys, bears, and other jungle creatures sitting in dejection.

Angada, the monkey leader, scowled at Hanuman. "Where have you been? There is no sign of Sita! Surely King Sugriva will have our heads for not finding Sita yet!"

"I was immersed for a moment in the heart of a pure man--a gardener. --But Angada! Really! You know of Ram's love for you. He won't let Sugriva be nasty."

Jambavan, king of the bears, went over to Angada, and with a knowing smile to Hanuman said, "Ram is not a mortal man. He is God in the form of a man, here to give us the opportunity of serving him. We are all indeed blessed to be in his presence, let alone to serve him."

Suddenly a scream bellowed from out of a cave in the nearby mountains. Sampati, a huge and very ugly vulture, had been awakened by the noisy group on the beach. He was going to have a feast.

Hanuman looked up to the large disfigured bird as it hobbled over trees and stones in pursuit of a small monkey and screamed, "Stop! We are here on a mission for Ram, beloved of all. How dare you eat one of us? Look!" And Hanuman showed Sampati the ring on his finger. "This is Ram's own ring."

The horrid bird frowned, a thousand wrinkles playing in his featherless face. He really was hungry. But what Hanuman said touched an old chord.

"My apologies," said Sampati, whose foul breath could have killed an army. "If you are Rama's retinue then I surely will find my food elsewhere."

When Angada had become less frightened of the wretched bird, he said, "Sampati, we must tell you that your brother Satayu has been slain by the evil Ravana. Satayu valiantly tried to stop Ravana's abduction of Lord Ram's wife, Sita, but he was killed in the attempt."

Sampati was saddened by his brother's demise, but suddenly brightened when he remembered something. He said, "All of this had been foreshadowed by the sage Chandrama. Long ago he turned my eyes to God and explained how my brother would attempt to arrest Ravana's abduction of Sita, the beloved of Brahma's incarnation."

All the monkey hosts were attentive as the nearly featherless bird continued. "The sage, Chandrama, said Ram's beloved will be found in the Asoka grove that lies in Ravana's secret palace on an island many leagues out to sea."

A wondrous thing then occurred as Sampati was relating this information. As though a black veil were lifting from the ugly creature, he slowly transformed into a glowing, healthy, and handsome bird. Feathers of gentle colors appeared where before there had only been ragged, black quill points. Even Hanuman was impressed.

The bird became aware that the gathered monkeys and bears were gazing in awe at him, and he felt an inner beauty he had long ago thought lost. He hopped over to a tidal pool and examined himself and leapt up with joy upon seeing his reflection. "Oh Rama Rama Rama! It is true. It is all true!" He turned to Hanuman and everyone, and said, "Ages past, I became the wretched creature you saw earlier because I thought with my pride that I could fly to heaven. I got burned because of my lack of humility. Now I am whole again. --Oh Hanuman, I envy the purity of your devotion, and I thank you for it!" With that he flew off for the first time in ages.

Hanuman was touched by Sampati's faith. Looking to Jambavan and then out to sea towards where he knew Ravana's island must be, he said, "I have never flown such a distance before, but I swear I'll make it. Please tell Ram where I have gone and that I will return to bring him news of his beloved." With that, Hanuman took a mighty leap which shook the neighboring mountains, and flew toward Lanka.

Many creatures and witches tried to stop his journey but Hanuman outwitted them all. Not even the sleeping beauties of Ravana's harem distracted Hanuman as he tip-toed through their midst and around the terrible palace guards in his search for Sita. The moon shined brightly in a garden within the palace's courtyard, and there he saw the Asoka grove. As he stealthily crept through the gardens, he heard the raspy voice of Ravana. Then he saw Sita. Hanuman's heart nearly leapt out of his chest, such was his love and devotion for her. Ravana towered above her beneath an Asoka tree, demanding that she sleep with him. As Hanuman noiselessly climbed that tree he heard Sita angrily tell Ravana to leave her alone--that her only love was Ram.

"Ha!" uttered Ravana. "And where is this Lord of yours? Poor naive Sita, he has already forgotten about you. He probably is sleeping with another woman at this moment. --Come Sita, come to my bed. I'll make you queen above all my other wives."

"Never!"

Ravana was furious, but Hanuman was more furious. But Hanuman's fury did not blind him to his responsibility to keep Sita safe until Ram could muster the army necessary to wipe out Ravana and his demon army. Ravana walked away yelling, "Sita, if you don't oblige me soon I shall kill you."

Hanuman could see that Sita did not care for herself in this threat, and that her concern was for Ram's sadness if she were to die. Sita looked up to the moon and with her heart, sang to her mother; the mother that flows out of the stars into the Himalayan mountains, and brings life to the earth as she journeys the Ganges out to sea. She begged to be delivered from Ravana only to bring joy to her beloved Ram. Hanuman heard her poem, and fingering Rama's ring, he contemplated how he should give it to her. If he were to jump down from this tree he would surely frighten her and make her think he was one of Ravana's demons, come to trick her. As Sita looked to the full moon with tearful eyes, Hanuman suddenly knew what to do. He simply dropped the ring.

Sita saw the ring sparkle in the moonlight as it fell on her sari where she sat. She picked it up, and her eyes erupted with tears of joy upon seeing Rama's inscribed name. She looked up to the Asoka tree and asked, "Where did you get this ring?" She stood up and gently touched the tree, "Oh Asoka, you have brought me great joy!"

Hanuman, with his sweetest voice, said, "My beloved Sita, your husband is at this very hour gathering an army to crush your abductor and bring you home. Be not frightened, for I am a monkey in whose heart you and Ram reside unfalteringly."

Sita looked into the thick foliage of the tree, but she saw no one. "Come down whoever you are. None of Ravana's kind could forge a ring such as this one. Come, I wish to see you for myself."

Hanuman was still concerned that she would be frightened. "I am a monkey."

She laughed, and stood up. "Come to me, my love."

Hanuman came down and Sita enveloped him with her arms. "You have done as I asked. You have brought me my ring. What more could you wish to do with your life?"

For a moment there is a confusion, as if he has forgotten who he is or what he is doing. So powerful is the Mother's embrace, however, that all uncertainty is extinguished. Not even the licking flames of his own cremation fire causes him to look back. He cares not for the landowner or his wife as they look to his ashes being strewn upon the Ganges at Kashi. Before him, he sees only Ram and Sita.