Week 3 Storytelling: Hanuman's Escape

Author's Note:
I took this storytelling opportunity to expand upon a moment in the Ramayan that I felt was glossed over: Hanuman's Escape from Lanka. This seen got me so excited, as Hanuman is one of my favorite characters, and I was disappointed it did not receive more attention from the author. So here is my version of it:

Hanuman's Escape:

The veil was wrenched from his head. He saw before him a palatial court of gold and jewels, sparkling so bright it agitated Hanuman’s light-deprived eyes. He’d spent the last day and a half in a cell, a sack pulled taut over his eyes. The canvas veil was actually a ship’s sail, Hanuman suspected, for no other material would be able to wrap around his might head. After all, he had altered his stature to over a hundred feet tall. 

Yet still, Ravana’s court dwarfed even him. The marble pillars were thicker than redwoods, the throne fit for a herd of elephants to sit upon. All of Ravana’s demonic court had assembled to see him, Hanuman, the prince of the monkey kingdom, brought low. All according to plan, he thought, trying not to let his grin show.

“Silence!” Ravana hushed the crowd. Hanuman found that he could hardly bear to look upon the King of Demons. When he tried, his vision became blurry, and it was as if Ravana had a thousand arms, a thousand shifting faces, all displaying the same malevolent glower, all directed at him. Hanuman could see the hatred in his thousand eyes.

“You,” Ravana quaked. “Monkey. Ye who would lay waste to my great and magnificent kingdom. Who are you, to think you could get away with destroying my gardens?”

Hanuman could not stop himself this time. He smirked as he said, “The better question is, who are you? For all I see before me is a dead man and a court of ghosts.”

“Insolence!” Ravana lurched upright, standing opposite Hanuman now, a bolt of lightning materializing into a golden trident in the Demon King’s hand. Hanuman could feel the heat of it even from this distance.

He tread carefully. “Your grace, the words which leave my mouth are not my own. I am but a messenger of Lord Rama, and the words I speak are his alone . . . you big dumb idiot.”

Some amongst the crowd dared to snicker, and were struck dead by a single glance from one of Ravana’s many heads. The King of Demons paced the chamber, his intricate obsidian armor clattering against the golden floor, brows furled in sadistic thought.

“Indrajit,” he said finally. “It was you who captured this foolish monkey. I trust my son will make his death as painful as possible. I want his head delivered to Rama in a box.” He returned Hanuman’s vanishing smile with one of his own, terrible and twisted. “And I shall have Sita kiss his apish forehead before the box is sealed, so that Rama may see what has become of her.”

Hanuman had not planned for such cruelty. Oh Vishnu, what have I done? I should not have played such tricks on this vile monster.

“Brother, I beg you to reconsider,” said one of the gentler-looking demons. “In your extreme magnanimity, surely you must see that one cannot slay a messenger sent in good faith. It betrays all the laws of Gods and Demons.”

“Hmmm. Yes, Vibhishana, perhaps you are right. Though I care not for the Gods laws, I cannot disobey the laws of my fellow demons and still call myself King.” Turning, he addressed the gathered crowd. “I am too forgiving by half, I know. But rest assured, my brothers and sisters, this monkey shall pay for the damages he has inflicted upon your homes. Indrajit! My son, see that this giant buffoon’s tail is padded with cotton, soaked in oil, and set ablaze! So that he does not catch cold on his long way back to Rama’s embrace. He is a messenger, after all.”

Hanuman kicked and squirmed against his restraints, but no matter how large he tried to make himself, the strange metal would not break. He could not enlarge himself out of this problem. In the meanwhile, Ravana’s orders were carried out in painstaking detail. He was brought back to his dark cellar and his tail was padded and soaked. Indrajit smiled, forked serpentine tongue licking his scaly lips, and threw down the torch with glee.

Hanuman shrieked as his tail sparked to fiery life. He needed a way out. His mind was locked in a race with the inferno climbing up his leg.

And then it hit him. He knew what he must do. Hanuman shrank himself down to the size of a grape, appearing as nothing more than a firefly to Indrajit’s eyes. His shackles clattered to floor, and Hanuman grew again, this time a thousand thousand times bigger than before. His massive frame broke through the jail walls.

He stood atop Ravana’s glittering capital like an elephant over an anthill. His tail was still ablaze, but he laughed at his own pain and sprang into a somersault. He flipped and spun through the city, changing his size as he went to confuse his pursuers. The fire sprouting from his tail, now an inferno large enough to rival the sun, now small enough to be dwarfed by an ember, swept over the pagodas and palaces of Lanka. That night the city burned, and the flames spread high enough to singe the very clouds above. 

Arsonist Hanuman: source

Bibliography:

The Ramayana, A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic, R.K. Narayan, Penguin Books, 2006