जाम्बवता हनूमतः प्रबोधनं जन्मकथा च

Seeing the monkey army, many hundreds of thousands strong, sunk in despondency, Jāmbavān, king of the bears, spoke to Hanumān. "Hero," he said, "you are the champion of the monkey world and foremost among those who know every branch of learning. Why do you sit apart, silent, saying nothing? Hanumān, in energy and strength you are the equal of Sugrīva, king of the monkeys, and of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa too." The sarga opens with three things: the army's despondency, the hero's silence and the elder's rousing. Jāmbavān knew that Hanumān had forgotten his own strength, so reminding him was the chief remedy. An army of hundreds of thousands is useless once it loses heart, so Jāmbavān set out first to awaken its champion. "Why do you say nothing?" is a gentle reproach meant to break Hanumān's silence, and comparing him with Sugrīva, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa sets him high.

"Garuḍa, son of Ariṣṭanemi Kaśyapa, Vinatā's child, is famous as the mightiest and best of all birds. Many times I have seen that mighty bird, long-armed and powerful, snatching serpents out of the ocean. Whatever strength is in his wings is in your arms; in valour and speed you are in no way less than he. Bull among monkeys, strength, intelligence, energy and courage are all yours beyond all other beings — why then do you not ready yourself to leap the ocean?" His only fault was forgetting himself, and to cure it Jāmbavān began to tell him his past. Garuḍa, king of birds, and Hanumān, son of the Wind, both travel the sky and both are mighty, and by the comparison Jāmbavān shows that leaping the sea is not beyond him. Where strength, intelligence, energy and courage come together, nothing impossible remains. "Why do you not ready yourself?" can be called the centre of the sarga.

"There was an apsaras named Puñjikasthalā, the finest of the apsarases, who became known as Añjanā, wife of Kesarī, lord of the monkeys. Famous in the three worlds and unmatched on earth for beauty, she was born through a curse as a monkey who could take any form she wished. She was the daughter of great Kuñjara, lord of the monkeys. Once, taking human form, radiant with youth and beauty, adorned with lovely garlands and ornaments and dressed in fine linen, she was wandering on a mountain peak dark as a rain-cloud." Though born a monkey, she could take human form at will, and that was her gift; the epithet "able to change her form" is used twice, marking it as her chief trait. An apsaras come down, a curse, birth as a monkey, daughter of a monkey lord, married to Kesarī — by these steps the poet establishes the divine origin of Hanumān's mother. The dark mountain peak and the lovely woman in her bright garment upon it set the scene for what follows.

"That large-eyed lady's lovely garment was yellow with a red border. As she stood on the mountain top, the Wind gently lifted it away. Then he saw her rounded thighs, her full breasts and her beautiful face. Seeing her so — full-hipped, slender-waisted, glorious, lovely in every limb — the Wind was overcome with desire. He embraced the blameless lady with his long, strong arms, and with every limb possessed by love he lost himself entirely." The yellow garment with its red border — the contrast of colours sharpens the picture. The Wind lifting the garment was no wickedness but a wind's natural motion; from it came seeing, and from seeing, desire, and "lost himself" conveys the Wind's self-forgetting. That the formless wind embraces her as if he had a body is a poet's licence. This description is not there for sensuality alone; it tells the cause of a divine birth.

"Startled, that lady true to her vows cried out: 'Who is it that wants to break my vow of faithfulness to one husband?' Hearing Añjanā, the Wind answered: 'Lovely lady, I am doing you no harm; blessed one, have no fear. It is only in my mind, glorious one, that I have embraced you and come to you, and from this you will bear a son, valiant and wise. He will have great courage, great energy, great strength and valour, and in leaping and flying he will be my equal.' At these words your mother was content, great monkey, and then, mighty-armed bull among leapers, she bore you in a cave." Añjanā's virtue is central here: she was not afraid for herself, only of breaking her vow. The Wind too protected her virtue by saying "only in my mind", so the son was born of his mental resolve, not of bodily union; her vow was kept and the boon was won. The son's qualities were promised in advance — great courage and energy, his father's equal in leaping — and the cave, the natural home of monkeys, is named as his birthplace.

"As a child, seeing the sun rising over the great forest, you thought it was a fruit and wanted to grab it, so you sprang up and leapt into the sky. You went three hundred yojanas, great monkey, and though you were scorched by the sun's heat you did not lose heart. When you had quickly reached the sun in the sky, Indra, in a rage, hurled his blazing thunderbolt at you. You fell on a mountain peak and your left jaw — your hanu — was broken, and from that you have been called Hanumān." The fearlessness of a child, the unbearable blaze of the sun, Indra's anger and the meaning of his name are all told together. Taking the sun for a fruit shows a child's innocence, while the power to leap three hundred yojanas towards the sun was his from birth. Even Indra's thunderbolt did not kill him but only broke his jaw, so his very name marks not a defeat but his invincibility; and that even the thunderbolt did not dishearten him shows a courage he was born with.

"When he saw you struck down, the Wind, bearer of fragrance, was furious and stopped blowing anywhere in the three worlds." When the wind stops, the breath of every creature stops, and so the three worlds were thrown into turmoil; the Wind's silence was terrible. "All the gods were dismayed, and the lords of the worlds set about appeasing the angry Wind. When he had been appeased, Brahmā gave you a boon: 'Dear child, truly valiant one, no weapon shall kill you in battle.' And seeing you unhurt even by the blow of the thunderbolt, the thousand-eyed Indra was pleased and also gave you an excellent boon." The Wind's anger, born of love for his son, froze the three worlds, and through it Hanumān's unfailing strength was secured. The boons of Brahmā and Indra together make his body proof against death, a hint that he will be able to endure whatever befalls him later in Laṅkā.

"'You shall die only when you yourself choose,' my lord — that was the boon. So you are the son of Kesarī by his wife, and of terrible valour, but the true-born son of the Wind and his equal in energy. You are the Wind's son, dear child, and his equal in leaping too." By naming both Kesarī, in whose marriage he was born, and the Wind, who begot him, the poet makes clear his double fatherhood. "Today we are as good as dead; you alone are left to us as our refuge. With your skill and valour you shine like a second king of birds." "As good as dead" is no exaggeration: without finding Sītā they could not go back to Kiṣkindhā, and there death was certain, so the monkeys' lives now rested on Hanumān alone. The comparison with the king of birds returns, making it plain that leaping is what matters.

"Dear child, at the time of Viṣṇu's three strides I circled this earth, with its mountains, woods and forests, twenty-one times in reverence. And at the gods' command we gathered the herbs that were churned to produce the nectar; in those days we had great strength. Now I am old and my strength is gone. This is our hour, and you are the one who has every quality." Having told of his own glory, he admits it all belongs to the past and lays the burden of the present on Hanumān. Circling the earth twenty-one times and gathering herbs for the nectar prove Jāmbavān's great antiquity, yet he does not boast; in saying "this is our hour" he accepts that his age is over and Hanumān's has begun.

"So stretch yourself out, valiant one; you are the best of leapers. This whole monkey army longs to see your might. Rise, tiger among monkeys, and leap the great ocean; Hanumān, your speed surpasses that of every creature. All the monkeys are despondent — why do you hold back? Mighty in speed, stride out as Viṣṇu strode his three strides." "Stretch yourself" suggests the spreading of limbs, like a lion stretching; and the image of Viṣṇu's three strides returns — once applied by Jāmbavān to himself, it is now laid on Hanumān. Then, urged on by Jāmbavān, that bull among monkeys, the son of the Wind, whose speed was famous, made his body vast, delighting that army of monkey heroes. His answer was not words but the growing of his form: he replied with action. At the sarga's end despondency has given way to joy.