हनूमतः सीताशीलप्रशंसा लङ्काक्रमणाय प्रोत्साहनं च

When he had related all this, Hanumān, son of the Wind, went on to say more. "Rāghava's effort has borne fruit," he said, "and so has Sugrīva's zeal; and having come to know Sītā's virtue, my heart is glad. Bulls among leapers, the noble lady's virtue is worthy of her: by her austerity she could uphold the worlds, or, if she were angered, burn them up. Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, must be surpassing in austerity in every way, since his body was not destroyed by her power when he touched her. Even a tongue of flame, touched by the hand, would not do what Janaka's daughter would do if she were clouded with anger." Here Hanumān describes the power of her faithfulness to her husband. Sītā, he says, could burn Rāvaṇa to ashes herself, but she does not, because Rāma's honour must be upheld by Rāma. Rāvaṇa's survival he explains as the fruit of his past austerities; otherwise the mere touch of so faithful a wife would have consumed him. The image of the flame recalls the thought of the previous sargas, that fire did not burn Sītā because she was herself more radiant than fire. To Hanumān, coming to know her virtue was the highest fruit of his journey: Rāghava's effort, Sugrīva's zeal and his own gladness all found their fulfilment in her virtue. This passage reveals the divinity of her character and awakens the monkeys' devotion to her.

"Now that the task stands thus and has been reported to you," he went on, "it would be fitting, with the leave of all you great monkeys headed by Jāmbavān, to go and see the two princes with Vaidehī at our side. I alone am enough to destroy the city of Laṅkā swiftly, with its hosts of rākṣasas, and mighty Rāvaṇa too; how much more when I have you with me, heroic leapers, strong, self-possessed, skilled in arms, able and bent on victory! I will kill Rāvaṇa on the battlefield with his army and his vanguard, his sons and his brothers. Even if Indrajit's weapons, the missiles of Brahmā, Rudra, the Wind and Varuṇa, are too dazzling to look upon in battle, I will destroy them and blast the rākṣasas. If you give me leave, my valour will hold him in check; the matchless, unbroken rain of rocks I let loose would kill even the gods in battle, let alone those night-rangers. Without your leave, my valour holds me back. The ocean may overflow its shore and Mount Mandara may totter, but no enemy host could shake Jāmbavān in battle. Vālin's son, the heroic Aṅgada, is enough by himself to destroy all the hordes of rākṣasas and their forebears too. The force of the great leaper Nīla's thighs would shatter even Mandara, let alone the rākṣasas in battle. Among gods, asuras and yakṣas, gandharvas, serpents and birds, name anyone who could stand against Mainda, or Dvivida. These two sons of the Aśvins, so swift, are the best of leapers; I see no one on the battlefield who could stand against them." Hanumān's proposal was daring at its height: to conquer Laṅkā and bring Sītā back without waiting for Rāma. His purpose was twofold, Sītā's swift release and the glory of the monkeys, for if the monkeys brought her back themselves they would win the highest fame before Rāma and Sugrīva. Yet he asked for leave, and without it he would not act; that is discipline. The two lines about his valour are finely set against each other: with leave, it holds the enemy in check; without leave, it holds him back. It is an envoy's subtle sense of the bounds he must keep. Indrajit's divine missiles did not frighten him, for by Brahmā's boon even Brahmā's missile had held him only for a moment. By recalling each hero's strength, Jāmbavān's steadiness, Aṅgada's valour, Nīla's speed, the invincibility of Mainda and Dvivida, he raised all their spirits. Here the monkey heroes who will be the chief commanders of the Yuddha Kāṇḍa are introduced, and Mainda and Dvivida, sons of the Aśvins, have a divine birth just as Hanumān is the Wind's son.

"By me alone Laṅkā has been struck down, burned and reduced to ashes, and on all its royal highways I proclaimed my name: 'Victory to Rāma of surpassing strength, and to mighty Lakṣmaṇa! Victory to King Sugrīva, protected by Rāghava! I am the servant of the king of Kosala, born of the Wind, Hanumān by name.' So I proclaimed my name everywhere." This is the famous proclamation of the Sundara Kāṇḍa, in which Hanumān calls himself the servant of the king of Kosala. He introduced himself not by his own name first but as Rāma's servant; he had proclaimed this in Laṅkā during the fighting, and now he repeated it before the monkeys, raising their pride too. Victory is proclaimed first for Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa and Sugrīva, and only then comes his own name, an order that shows his humility. And "by me alone" shows that if he had done this alone, how much more could they all do together.

"In the middle of the evil Rāvaṇa's Aśoka grove, at the foot of the śiṃśapā tree, the virtuous lady lives in a pitiful state, surrounded by rākṣasīs, wasted by grief and anguish, lustreless like the crescent moon ringed by bands of cloud. She takes no thought of Rāvaṇa, proud of his strength as he is; faithful to her husband, the lovely Jānakī is held captive. Vaidehī, the auspicious one, is devoted to Rāma with her whole being, her mind on no one but Rāma, as Indra's wife, Paulomī, has her mind only on Indra. I saw her in the pleasure grove among misshapen rākṣasīs, clad in her one garment, covered with dust, threatened again and again, wearing a single braid, wretched, wholly absorbed in thoughts of her husband, lying on the ground, her limbs pale like a lotus pond when the frost comes, turned away from Rāvaṇa, resolved to die. Somehow I brought that fawn-eyed lady to trust me; then I spoke with her and made the whole matter known to her. When she heard of the friendship of Rāma and Sugrīva she was gladdened. Her conduct is disciplined and her devotion to her husband supreme. That she does not kill ten-necked Rāvaṇa herself shows how great his austerity is; Rāma will be merely the instrument of his death. Slender by nature and further wasted by separation from Rāma, she has grown thin like the learning of a student who studies on the day of the new moon. So the noble Sītā lives, given over to grief. Whatever must be done here in response, let all of it be made ready." Hanumān's description shows Sītā's suffering and her fortitude together. Every image is of waning: the crescent moon behind clouds, the lotus in the frost, and the learning of one who studies on a day when study is forbidden, the subtlest of the three, for learning not studied properly withers as Sītā withered without the sight of Rāma. The comparison with Paulomī, Indra's wife, sets Sītā's faithfulness beside Śacī's, for Śacī too, tormented by Nahuṣa, thought only of Indra. Winning Sītā's trust had not been easy but took great effort; being "turned away from Rāvaṇa" means that she had nothing to do with him and counted his wealth, his kingdom and his temptations as straw; and her "resolve to die" shows how pressing the time was, for any delay might cost her life. Hanumān repeats his earlier description of her at length because his purpose now was different: before, it was to report; now, it was to stir their pity and so spur them to act. So he ended by handing the decision to the whole assembly, "let it be made ready", a call to swift action for which all of them were responsible. These words open the discussion between Aṅgada and Jāmbavān in the next sarga.