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  Hanuman to the Rescue

  Born in 1934, Ruskin Bond grew up in Jamnagar, Shimla, New Delhi and Dehradun. He has been writing for over sixty years and now has over 120 titles in print—novels, collections of stories, poetry, essays, anthologies and books for children. His first novel, The Room on the Roof, received the prestigious John Llewellyn Rhys Prize in 1957. He has also received the Padma Shri, and two awards from the Sahitya Akademi—one for his short stories and another for his writings for children. In 2012, the Delhi government gave him its Lifetime Achievement Award. He lives in Mussoorie with his adopted family.

  Prasun Mazumdar is an illustrator, painter and graphic designer. He studied at the National Institute of Fashion Technology, Delhi, from where he received a Bachelor’s degree in design. Prasun has illustrated and designed children’s books such as The Kashmiri Storyteller and Secrets, both by Ruskin Bond, and Gind by Harini Gopalswami Srinivasan.

  Hanuman to the Rescue

  RUSKIN BOND

  Illustrated by

  Prasun Mazumdar

  Published in

  RED TURTLE by Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd 2013

  7/16, Ansari Road, Daryaganj

  New Delhi 110002

  Text copyright © Ruskin Bond 1993, 2013

  Illustration copyright © Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd 2013

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-81-291-2462-3

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

  Contents

  Introduction

  The Banishment of Rama

  In the Forest of Dandak

  The Demon King

  The Golden Deer

  The Capture of Sita

  Hanuman to the Rescue

  Hanuman’s Tail of Fire

  The Battle Begins

  Ravana Defeated

  Classic Ruskin Bond

  Introduction

  This retelling of the adventures of Rama and Sita was originally written by me for very young readers in the UK, and I tried to tell the story in a simple, unadorned style, knowing that most British children would be unfamiliar with Hindu religion and mythology.

  The storybook was called The Adventures of Rama and Sita, and was first published by Julia MacRae Books, London, in 1987.

  The text of this edition is exactly the same, only the title has been changed. My grandson, Gautam, was particularly fond of Hanuman, and wanted him in the title. One can’t disappoint a grandson. Hence the change in title.

  Ruskin Bond

  The Banishment of Rama

  All through the warm summer night, the people of Ayodhya worked to prepare their city for the morrow’s celebrations, the coronation of their beloved prince, Rama. They hung gay lanterns from balconies and treetops, and adorned the white temples of the city with banners and bamboo archways. They burned fragrant incense and strewed flowers on all sides—roses, jasmine, marigolds. The people were in great good humour; there was not one who did not look forward to the celebrations, for Rama and his young wife, Sita, were the idols of the people’s hearts.

  Now, although Rama was to be crowned, his father, King Dasaratha, was still alive. But the old king felt too tired and weak to perform his royal duties unaided. And so, from his four sons, Rama, Bharat, Lakshman and Shatrughan, he had chosen Rama, his firstborn, to share the throne with him.

  Unfortunately for Rama, he had two dangerous enemies in the palace, through no fault of his own. They were Queen Kaikeyi, his stepmother, and her old maidservant Manthara, who was devoted to her mistress and knew all her secrets. On this night of joyous preparation, the two women were standing at a window in the palace, looking gloomily at the crowded streets below.

  ‘Oh, Manthara,’ Queen Kaikeyi said bitterly, ‘if only these preparations were for my own son, Bharat, instead of for Rama, the king’s favourite.’

  ‘And why shouldn’t they be?’ said Manthara. ‘Isn’t Prince Bharat also beloved of his father, the king?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked the Queen impatiently. ‘Do you think the King would place Bharat before Rama at my request?’

  ‘Stranger things than that have happened,’ said Manthara. And she reminded Kaikeyi how, years ago, the Queen had saved King Dasaratha’s life by tending his wounds upon a battlefield, and how, in return, the grateful king had sworn to grant her two favours, at any time that she should ask for them.

  ‘You have never claimed your rights,’ continued Manthara, ‘but the time has come for those favours to be granted. Listen, my queen.’

  And drawing nearer her mistress, she whispered a few words into her ear that made the queen’s eyes light up with excitement.

  ‘Oh, wise Manthara,’ she cried. ‘I will do as you say.’ And as dawn was now at hand, there was no time to be lost as the celebrations would begin soon after sunrise, Kaikeyi hurried to the king’s apartment.

  ‘My lord,’ she said eagerly to the old king who was reclining upon his couch, ‘tell me this! Do you remember how I saved your life upon the battlefield long ago?’

  ‘How could I forget your loving skill?’ answered the king. ‘Nor have I forgotten the promise that I made you at that time. Have you come to ask for your two favours now, my Kaikeyi?’

  The queen bowed her head in assent.

  ‘Ask those boons of me now,’ said the unsuspecting king, ‘and I swear by my dear son Rama, that if it is in my power to grant your requests, they will be granted.’

  ‘Then,’ said Kaikeyi in triumph, ‘grant me two things, oh King. Let our son Bharat be crowned this day, and let Rama be banished to the forest of Dandak for fourteen years.’

  The king nearly swooned with dismay and anger.

  ‘What are you saying?’ he cried, his voice shaking. ‘How can you be so treacherous! What wrong has Rama ever done you? No, such requests shall not be granted.’

  ‘As you like,’ replied Kaikeyi calmly. ‘But you realize, of course, that your subjects will come to know of your broken promises to me. You will for ever be known throughout the land as the king who failed to keep his solemn vow. You will always be spoken of with scorn.’

  Dasartha knew that he was in the queen’s power, for a king always had to be true to his word and had he not vowed, in the name of his dear son, that he would grant her requests, cruel though they had proved to be? In vain, he begged the queen to ask him any other favour, but she had set her mind on Rama’s banishment. She thought that if Rama were sent to Dandak, a forest said to be full of demons and evil spirits, it was most unlikely that he would return alive after the years of exile.

  Finding he could do nothing to make the queen change her mind, Dasaratha resigned himself to his fate, and with an aching heart, he entered the great audience chamber in the palace, where eager crowds were awaiting him.

  To the amazement of everyone in the hall, the king announced that Bharat, not Rama, was to share his throne. There were cries of surprise and dismay from the people, and Prince Rama, puzzled and unhappy, stepped forward.
The excited crowd began to cheer him as he stood before the throne.

  ‘What have I done, my father?’ he asked with simple dignity. ‘Why have you dishonoured me?’

  The king could no longer control his grief. With many bitter tears he spoke of his vow to Kaikeyi—how her demands had to be granted, cruel and unjust though they might be.

  ‘Not only must I deprive you of the throne,’ said the king despairingly, ‘but it is the desire of the queen that you be banished to the forest of Dandak for fourteen years.’

  When Bharat realized what had happened, he took Rama’s hand and vowed that he would never take the throne from his brother.

  But Rama, who had listened to his father’s words in silence, now said, ‘No, Bharat, the crown is yours. I must honour my father’s promise. I will go to the forest of Dandak, and not until fourteen years have passed will I return to Ayodhya.’

  ‘You will not go alone,’ rang out a young woman’s voice, and the beautiful, dark-eyed Sita, who until that moment had been overcome by grief and fear at the strange turn of events, now came and stood by her husband’s side.

  ‘I must share your exile,’ she said. ‘Alone here, I would surely die.’

  ‘But the forest of Dandak is full of danger,’ said Rama gently. ‘You know well that Ravana, the king of the demons, is said to haunt it with his wicked followers. They are always looking for an opportunity to work their evil upon the good and innocent.’

  ‘And I must accompany you too, Rama,’ said Prince Lakshman, the king’s second son, who had always been devoted to Rama. ‘I will help you protect Sita.’

  Rama protested that he could not allow his wife and brother to endure the hardship of forest life, but Sita and Lakshman begged to be allowed to accompany him. At last, he gave way to them. Then he turned to the king, and embracing the old man tenderly, he said, ‘Farewell, father. I do not blame you, for you have been the victim of the queen’s cunning.’

  So, amidst great sorrowing, Rama, Sita and Lakshman took leave of all those who loved them in the palace, and, after changing their royal robes for the plain clothes of forest folk, they set out towards the deep, dark woods of Dandak which lay to the south of the kingdom.

  In the Forest of Dandak

  Scarcely had the three exiles left the palace, than King Dasaratha fell into a coma from which his physicians could not revive him, and a few days later he was dead.

  ‘Now,’ thought Kaikeyi, ‘Bharat will be crowned at last.’

  But the Queen was doomed to disappointment, for Bharat refused to ascend the throne, saying that Rama must be brought back from the forest to take his rightful place as King. Kaikeyi begged her son not to throw away his chance at glory, but Bharat was determined to see justice done, so he journeyed to the forest of Dandak and managed to overtake Rama and his companions.

  Rama was deeply grieved to hear of his father’s death, but he refused to listen to Bharat’s pleas that he return to be crowned the king of Ayodhya.

  ‘My father pledged his word that I should remain in exile for fourteen years,’ he said firmly, ‘and I will remain here in fulfilment of his vow.’

  ‘Then I will govern the people as your regent,’ said Bharat, ‘until the day you return.’

  So Bharat took leave of the wanderers and, returning to Ayodhya, he governed the kingdom with wisdom and justice, but, true to his word, refused to be crowned. He set a pair of Rama’s slippers upon the throne as a sign of his absent brother’s authority.

  Kaikeyi had failed to make her son the real king, but neither she nor Manthara gave up hope, for they felt sure that Rama would never return from the forest of Dandak.

  Meanwhile, the wanderers went deeper into the forest, living upon fruits and herbs. Sometimes they came across a tiny hermitage in which lived some holy man who gave them hospitality. Otherwise they did not see a living soul in the forest. And although they were always on their guard against the demon King Ravana and his followers, so far not a single evil spirit had appeared or troubled them.

  One day, they chanced to arrive at a little hermitage which was inhabited by an old priest of great repute named Agastya.

  The holy man welcomed them, and was astonished to hear that they had been in the forest for so long without being attacked by demons.

  ‘Since I am a hermit, Ravana and his followers do not bother to molest me,’ he said. ‘But I have often seen them lurking near this place, and I fear that you may be attacked by them. It is possible that you have been destined by the Gods to wage war upon these evil spirits who trouble the earth so much. I will give you my store of weapons.’

  Then, to Rama’s delight, Agastya presented him with a bow and a quiver full of an endless store of arrows. Lakshman received a golden-sheathed sword.

  ‘These weapons once belonged to the great god Indra,’ said Agastya. ‘Their aim is true and deadly. Now you may wander where you will, for the demons are afraid of these arrows and this sword.’

  As Rama touched his bow with loving fingers, he solemnly vowed to himself that he would rid the world of all evil.

  They rested for a while at the hermitage, then Rama said, ‘Oh, best and wisest among the sages, please direct us to some pleasant place, where we may spend the remaining years of our exile.’

  ‘Seek the vale of Panchavati,’ advised Agastya. ‘It is a pleasant, fertile glade where you may live in comfort and peace.’

  So the wanderers took leave of him and continued on their journey, armed with the precious weapons.

  Following the sage’s directions, they soon reached the vale of Panchavati, which was indeed a beautiful, tranquil spot. There, magnolia blossomed and the mango trees were laden with fruit. Peacocks danced in the forest clearings, and many-hued parrots flew swiftly from tree to tree. A little stream of fresh water wound its way through the glade.

  ‘Let us remain here,’ cried Sita eagerly, so the brothers set to work to build her a small dwelling.

  This was soon done, and Sita was as delighted with her new home as if it had been a palace. The walls of the hut were made of hardened earth instead of marble, and in the place of gleaming columns, pillars of bamboo supported the thatched roof. But they were happy in this simple abode, and as the years slipped peacefully by, Rama felt convinced that the demons would never trouble them. Had not Agastya given them protection with his magic weapons?

  But he was soon to discover his mistake, and to learn from bitter experience that magic weapons alone were not enough to protect the good and innocent from the evil designs of King Ravana.

  The Demon King

  Ravana, the king of the demons, was determined to do something about the royal forest dwellers, as he was the sworn enemy of gods and virtuous mortals. He knew that the sage Agastya had given them magic weapons, and realized that it would be dangerous for him to attack the brothers openly. He had to find some way of slaying them by stealth. So he constantly lurked unseen near the vale of Panchavati, in the hope of meeting the brothers unarmed; but as yet he had not seen them without their weapons.

  However, one evening while Ravana was watching them from a distance, he had an idea which made him very pleased with himself.

  ‘Sita is most beautiful,’ he said to himself, ‘and she is dearer to Rama than his very life. No longer will I waste time trying to kill the proud prince. Instead I will steal from him his most cherished possession. Sita shall be mine!’

  The longer Ravana thought about his scheme, the more it delighted him, although he knew that the capture of Sita would be no easy task, for neither Rama nor Lakshman ever left her unguarded for a moment. Still, Ravana had all the aids of sorcery at his command, and he decided to ask the help of his brother, Marichi, who was said to be the most cunning of all the demon race.

  Marichi lived alone in a distant part of the forest, so Ravana sent for his chariot.

  The chariot was a golden vehicle drawn by two fierce-looking asses with goblins heads. Not only could this strange car roll over the ground with great
swiftness, but it could also fly through the air like an aeroplane. Ravana stepped inside his car and flew to the most gloomy part of the forest, where Marichi was studying the arts of magic.

  ‘Greetings, brother!’ cried Ravana. ‘I have come to you for help. You know that Rama, Prince of Ayodhya, has dared to enter this forest with Sita, his wife, and his brother, Lakshman?’

  ‘Yes, Ravana,’ said Marichi gloomily. ‘But take care. Do not molest those mortals, for I have a strong feeling that they will bring trouble upon us.’

  Ravana laughed at his brother’s words, but Marichi remained serious.

  ‘I think the gods themselves have sent this powerful prince to destroy us,’ he said. ‘Did you know, brother, that the magic arrows of Agastya are in his possession?’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ answered Ravana, ‘and that is why I do not plan to fight him. But listen! What I propose to do will injure him more than death.’

  Then Ravana told his brother how he planned to carry Sita away to his enchanted palace on the distant island of Lanka.

  ‘She shall become my queen,’ he said. ‘And Rama will look for her in vain, for no mortal can cross the seas which divide Lanka from this land.’

  ‘You shall get no help from me, brother,’ said Marichi firmly, ‘for I know that disaster will be in store for us if we do anything to harm Rama. Let Sita be, I beg you. Go back and find another, more beautiful bride.’

  But Ravana was not to be put off by his brother, and as he knew that he would never be able to carry out his scheme without Marichi’s aid, he raised his sword and shouted, ‘Refuse to help me, and you shall die instantly!’

  Seeing that Ravana was in deadly earnest, Marichi gave in, saying, ‘It is better for me to be killed by Rama than by you. At least then I would lose my life to an enemy.’

  Ravana was overjoyed and embraced his brother, saying, ‘Now you are again my dear old Marichi!’ And stepping inside the chariot, they set out for the vale of Panchavati.