सागरदर्शनेन वानराणां विषादः अङ्गदस्य आश्वासनं च

When Sampāti, king of the vultures, had told them all this, the monkeys, lion-like in valour, leapt up, gathered together in delight and roared. Their joy showed itself not in words but in leaping, as is a monkey's nature. Having heard Sampāti's words about Rāvaṇa's destruction, they went gladly to the sea, longing to see Sītā — even Rāvaṇa's end was for them only a means to finding her. Coming to that place, those monkeys of dreadful valour saw the ocean lying there like a reflection of the whole vast world; the image of a mirror conveys both its size and its stillness. Reaching the northern shore of the southern ocean — with Laṅkā lying to the south — the mighty monkey heroes made camp. Those who set out so eagerly at the end of the last sarga now face the first obstacle to their goal, and here the story turns.

In one place the ocean seemed to sleep, in another to play; here and there it was heaped with masses of water as big as mountains. Sleep and play, two images for its calm and its turmoil, and "as hard to cross as the sky" for its boundlessness. Seeing it teeming with the dānava lords who live in the depths below, a sight to make the hair stand on end, the great monkeys fell into despair. Looking at that sea, as impossible to cross as the sky, they all lost heart together, saying, "What are we to do?" What sets this sarga apart is that the cause of despair is not an enemy but the road itself. That question — what are we to do? — is the subject of the next two sargas; here it is raised, and its answer will come to rest only in Hanumān.

Seeing the army dejected at the sight of the sea, Aṅgada, best of monkeys, reassured his frightened companions: "Don't set your minds on despair; despair is the worst of faults. Despair kills a man as an angry snake kills a child." A snake kills a child because the child does not know how to defend himself; so despair destroys a man who has not steadied his mind. "When the time for valour comes, the man who gives way to despair loses his fire, and his purpose is never achieved." Young as he was, Aṅgada spoke as a commander should, and condemning despair is a lesson the Rāmāyaṇa teaches again and again. A leader's first duty is shown here: first steady the mind, then think of a way.

When that night had passed, Aṅgada met with the monkeys and their elders and took counsel again; the poet counts even the nights, for at the end of the month each day mattered. The monkey host gathered round Aṅgada shone like the army of the Maruts ranged round Indra, an image of its splendour and numbers that gives Aṅgada the place of Indra. Who but Vālī's son, and Hanumān, could have held that monkey army steady? Here the poet singles out the ability of just these two, a hint of the Sundara Kāṇḍa to come. Then glorious Aṅgada, tamer of enemies, honoured the monkey elders and the army and spoke words full of meaning; he did not command the elders over their heads, but asked them with respect.

"Who, of great splendour, will now leap across the ocean? Who will make Sugrīva, tamer of foes, true to his word? What heroic monkey could leap a hundred yojanas and free all these troop-leaders from their great fear? By whose grace shall we go home from here with our purpose won and happily see our wives, sons and homes again? By whose grace shall we go joyfully to Rāma, to mighty Lakṣmaṇa, and to Sugrīva of the forest?" With four questions Aṅgada sets out both the weight of the task and the hope of seeing their families again. "Make Sugrīva true to his word" suggests that the king's promise is the army's burden, and remembering that the month has passed makes their fear grow. By repeating "by whose grace" he shows that whoever leaps the ocean will not only achieve his own task but save everyone's life. The thought of seeing wives, sons and homes touches the monkeys' hearts; a commander knows that duty alone will not move a weary army.

"If any monkey among you can leap across the sea, let him give us here and now the holy gift of fearlessness." The phrase comes from the language of sacrifice, where the gift to the priests completes the rite: the task is a sacrifice, and the leap its offering. When they heard Aṅgada's words, no one said anything at all; the whole monkey army stood there as if frozen, and the double denial conveys how deep the silence was. Then Aṅgada, best of monkeys, spoke to them again: "You are all the strongest of the strong and firm in valour, born of families of good name and honoured again and again. None of you has ever been stopped from going wherever he wished. So tell me, bulls among monkeys, how far each of you can leap." Then Aṅgada took another approach: instead of a general question he asked each monkey his strength, and that makes possible the roll-call of Gaja, Gavākṣa and the rest in the next sarga.