सीतायाः समुद्रतरणसंशयः हनुमतः आश्वासनं च

When she had given the jewel, Sītā said to Hanumān: "This token is well known to Rāma. When he sees the jewel, the hero Rāma will call three people to mind: me, his mother Kausalyā, and King Daśaratha." Since the sight of it would recall three people, the jewel carried the memories of Rāma's whole family. "Spurred on by fresh zeal, best of monkeys, think out what must be done next in this undertaking. In carrying this task through you are the one who counts; think what effort will put an end to my sorrow. Hanumān, set yourself to the effort, and be the one who ends my sorrow." Promising "So be it," the son of the Wind, terrible in his valour, bowed his head to Vaidehī and made ready to go. Knowing that he was setting out, Maithilī spoke in a voice choked with tears: "Hanumān, give my greetings to Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa together, and to Sugrīva with his ministers and to all the elder monkeys; give them my greetings as dharma requires. See to it that the mighty-armed Rāghava brings me across this flood of sorrow in which I am held. Tell the glorious Rāma how he may find me still alive; by your words you will gain merit. When he hears the words I have spoken, Daśaratha's son, always full of energy, will grow in manly resolve to win me. When he hears my message from you, the hero Rāghava will set his mind duly on deeds of valour." Again and again Sītā reminded Hanumān of his responsibility: "you are the one who counts", "be the one who ends my sorrow", "see to it". Her trust in him was firm, for he was her only bridge to Rāma. "By your words you will gain merit" made carrying her message an act of dharma: to help one in sorrow brings merit. In the image of the flood of sorrow, grief is like water in which Sītā is trapped, and so it is fitting to speak of bringing her across. By asking him to tell Rāma how he might find her alive, she wanted to send Rāma news that she lived, so that he would not despair. The aim of her message was to rouse Rāma's manhood: his resolve would grow and he would set his mind on valour. Her words here fall into two parts: first she laid the task on Hanumān, then she sent greetings to all. In laying the task on him she used the words "the one who counts" twice, in the previous sarga and here, making his responsibility firm. In her greetings she remembered not only Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa but Sugrīva, his ministers and the elder monkeys, which shows her gratitude, for all of them were striving on her behalf. As he was about to go her voice choked with tears, fearing that her only support was going far away. And the jewel, by recalling three people, would awaken in Rāma's heart the memory of his wife, his mother and his father together; that was the emotional power of the token.

Hearing Sītā's words, Hanumān, son of the Wind, joined his palms above his head and answered: "Kākutstha will come swiftly, surrounded by the foremost of the monkeys and bears, and he will conquer his enemies in battle and drive away your grief. I see no one among mortals, asuras or gods who would dare to stand before him as he pours out his arrows. For your sake above all he could withstand in battle the sun itself, or Parjanya the god of rain, or Yama son of Vivasvat. He is fit to subdue the whole earth to the shores of the ocean; Rāma's victory, daughter of Janaka, will be for your sake." Hearing his words, true, well spoken and to the point, Jānakī thought highly of him and spoke again. In his answer Rāma's invincibility rises by three steps: mortals, asuras and gods cannot stand before him; even three gods, the sun, Parjanya and Yama, are within his power to face; and the whole earth is his to subdue. "Pouring out his arrows" pictures his volleys like a cloud pouring down rain. "Rāma's victory will be for your sake" puts Sītā at the centre of Rāma's work: it is for her he will fight, and because of her he will win. Hanumān's joined palms were a sign of his humility, and Sītā's high regard showed her satisfaction; her response was itself proof of the truth of his words, and his comfort steadied her mind a little.

Then, looking at him again and again as he was setting out, Sītā spoke to him warmly, with affection and with love for her husband: "If you think fit, hero, tamer of enemies, stay here one day; rest in some hidden place and go tomorrow. While you are near me, monkey, even I, so unlucky, may be freed for a moment from this great sorrow. When you have gone, best of monkeys, until you come back my very life will be in doubt; of that there is no question. The grief of not seeing you will scorch me again, as though setting fire to one already struck by sorrow upon sorrow. And this great doubt stands before me, hero, lord of monkeys, about your allies the monkeys and bears: how will those hosts of monkeys and bears, or those two sons of the best of men, cross the impassable great ocean? Only three beings have the power to leap this ocean: Garuḍa son of Vinatā, you, and the Wind. So, hero, in this undertaking so hard to accomplish, what way do you see? For you are the best of those who know how to get things done. Granted, you alone are enough to accomplish this task, slayer of enemy heroes; but then the glory of the result would be yours. If Rāma defeats Rāvaṇa in battle with all his forces and, victorious, takes me to his own city, that would be worthy of him. If Kākutstha, crusher of enemy armies, fills Laṅkā with his troops and takes me away, that would be worthy of him. So bring it about in a way that befits the valour of that great-souled hero in battle." Two feelings were in her mind at once: on one side her need for Hanumān's presence, for she did not want to give up his comfort even for a day; on the other, a practical concern about how Rāma could come. "Sorrow upon sorrow" speaks of grief following grief. Counting the three beings, Garuḍa, the Wind and Hanumān, shows her realistic judgement: only they could leap the ocean. At the end she recalled her argument from the previous sarga: Rāma's fame must come from his own valour. Her plea is a fine picture of human nature: the one who had come to her like a kinsman she wanted to keep one more day. "If you think fit" shows that she asked humbly, not commanding, and "in some hidden place" shows that she thought of his safety too. Calling herself "so unlucky" shows her misery, and "my very life will be in doubt" shows how fragile her position was, for once he was gone the rākṣasīs' threats and the fear of Rāvaṇa would return. Then her thoughts moved from herself to the army; setting aside her own sorrow, she considered how the task could succeed. "You are the best of those who know how to get things done" praises his intelligence, not only his strength. And "that would be worthy of him", said twice, reveals her chief concern: her freedom must befit Rāma's honour, and not come in any other way. The order of her reasoning is clear: first her own need, one more day; then the difficulty of the task, crossing the ocean; then her request for a solution, "what way do you see?"; and last her concern for Rāma's fame. So she consulted Hanumān not merely as a messenger but almost as a minister.

Hearing her remaining words, full of meaning, courteous and well reasoned, Hanumān answered: "Lady, Sugrīva, lord of the armies of monkeys and bears, best of leapers, true to his word, is resolved to act for you. Surrounded by thousands of crores of monkeys he will come swiftly, lady, to destroy the rākṣasas. Under his command stand monkeys full of valour, courage and great strength, who travel as fast as thought. Nothing checks their course, upwards, downwards or sideways, and those monkeys of boundless energy never flag even in great tasks. Again and again, following the path of the wind, they have circled the earth with its oceans and mountains. Among them are forest-dwellers who surpass me and who equal me; in Sugrīva's company there is none lesser than I. If I have come here, how much more easily will those mighty ones! For it is not the foremost who are sent on errands, but others. So enough of grieving, lady; let your sorrow go. The leaders of the monkey troops will reach Laṅkā in a single bound. Those two lions among men, riding on my back like the risen sun and moon, will come to you with their great hosts. The two heroes, the best of men, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, will come together to the city of Laṅkā and destroy it with their arrows. Rāghava, delight of the Raghus, will kill Rāvaṇa and all his followers and take you, fair lady, to his own city. So take heart, and blessings on you; bide your time. Before long you will see Rāma, blazing like fire. When the lord of the rākṣasas has been killed with his sons, ministers and kin, you will be united with Rāma as Rohiṇī is with the moon. Soon, lady Maithilī, you will see the end of your sorrow, and you will see Rāvaṇa struck down by Rāma's might." At the heart of this answer is Hanumān's humility: "none lesser than I", "it is not the foremost who are sent". He made himself small in order to dispel Sītā's doubt: if even a lesser monkey like him had crossed the ocean, what of the greater ones? "Travel as fast as thought" likens the monkeys' speed to the movement of the mind. "Riding on my back" turns his earlier offer around: he would carry not Sītā but Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. The answer to her question about the ocean is plain: the monkeys would come through the sky in a single bound. His reply settled both her doubts, how the ocean would be crossed and how Rāvaṇa would be conquered. The first answer was the monkeys' power of movement: unchecked in the sky, following the wind's path, they had circled the earth many times, so the ocean was no barrier to them. The second was the valour of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, who would destroy Laṅkā with their arrows and kill Rāvaṇa with his followers. "Sugrīva, true to his word" recalls his promise in Kiṣkindhā to search for Sītā, and "crores" shows the size of the army. Hanumān's self-deprecation is supported by a maxim: in the world a king keeps his best men at his side and sends others as envoys. This reasoning cut the root of Sītā's doubt. The sun and moon risen describe the splendour and beauty of the two brothers at once, and "blazing like fire" hints at Rāma's fiery anger. The image of Rohiṇī and the moon comes again, as in the earlier sargas. Notice too how he counted the monkeys' qualities one by one, valour, courage, strength, speed of thought, unchecked movement, tirelessness, the circling of the earth, so that trust grew in Sītā's mind step by step. By saying some surpassed him and some equalled him, he placed himself in the middle of the army or below it, an example of humility, since he was the one who had actually leapt the ocean. "Enough of grieving" sounds like a command, but it was said out of affection.

Having comforted Vaidehī like this, Hanumān, son of the Wind, made up his mind to leave and spoke to her once more: "Soon you will see Rāghava, slayer of foes, master of himself, and Lakṣmaṇa bow in hand, arrived at the gate of Laṅkā. Soon you will see heroic monkeys gathered here, armed with claws and teeth, valiant as lions and tigers, huge as lordly elephants. Noble lady, you will see troop upon troop of the chief monkeys, like mountains and clouds, roaring on the slopes of Laṅkā's Malaya hill. Struck to the quick by the dreadful arrow of love, Rāma finds no peace, like an elephant attacked by a lion. Do not weep in grief, lady; let there be no fear in your mind. You will be united with your husband, lovely one, as Śacī with Indra. Who is greater than Rāma, and who is Saumitri's equal? Those two brothers, like fire and wind, are your refuge. You will not live long, lady, in this dreadful place haunted by hordes of rākṣasas. Your beloved will come before long; bear only the time until I reach him." In this last part Hanumān set a picture of the future before Sītā: Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa at the gate of Laṅkā, troops of monkeys roaring on the mountain slopes. He spoke too of Rāma's pain of separation: struck by love's arrow, like an elephant attacked by a lion, he had no peace. "Bear only the time until I meet him" meant: endure only until I reach Rāma. Here Hanumān used pictures, Lakṣmaṇa bow in hand, monkeys armed with claws and teeth, troops like mountains and clouds, so that Sītā could see the future as if before her eyes. Lions, tigers and lordly elephants convey the monkeys' strength and terror. His account of Rāma's longing answered her doubt in the previous sarga, "if he has any concern for me": Rāma too had no peace without her. Fire and wind are an apt image, for fire blazes up with the wind, as Rāma with Lakṣmaṇa. The last verse asks Sītā for patience: only a little time remained. So by the end of the sarga all her doubts had been removed and Hanumān was ready to depart. "Noble lady" shows his respect and "blessings on you" his affection, and the words "soon" and "before long" recur again and again, for the assurance of speed was Sītā's chief medicine.