Hanuman Carries the Mountain

Far away, on a green island called Lanka, the day's battles had finally fallen silent. One by one the stars came out over the calm sea, and the wind carried the scent of salt, jasmine, and cool flowers from the gardens. Prince Rama sat on a low stone by the shore, with his little brother Lakshmana resting gently in his lap. Beside them stood the brave monkey Hanuman, perfectly still, his hands folded over his heart. Everything was quiet now, so quiet you could hear the small waves counting out their own foam. But Rama hardly dared to breathe, for he was afraid that even a single deep breath might wake something bad all over again.

Lakshmana had fought bravely all that long day, but an arrow from the cunning sorcerer Meghanada had struck him. Now he lay perfectly still in Rama's lap, and his breathing was as small and light as falling down. Rama stroked his forehead softly, once, and then once more. 'Wake up, little brother,' he whispered. 'You don't have to do anything. Just open your eyes.' But Lakshmana slept a sleep heavier than ordinary sleep, and the wind only carried his name out across the dark sea, as if even the waves wanted him to open his eyes again.

Then the wise old healer Sushena stepped forward out of the shadows beneath the palms. His beard was long and white as moonlit snow, and his voice was as calm as a lamp burning steadily. He crouched down beside Lakshmana, laid one hand on his chest, and listened for a long, long while. Then he straightened up and said: 'There is one herb that can wake him. It grows on only one mountain, high in the Himalayas, where snow meets sky and morning mist rests in the valleys. But someone must fetch it before the night is over, for otherwise Lakshmana will sleep too deeply to find his way home.'

Rama looked up at the stars. The way to the Himalayas was impossibly long, farther than many hundreds of days of walking for an ordinary person, and the night had already eaten away part of its own hours. He turned his eyes to Hanuman, and Hanuman smiled his calm, warm smile, the one that always made people feel safe. 'Dear friend,' said Rama, his voice trembling a little, 'only you can fly so far and so fast. Will you help my little brother?' Hanuman bowed deeply, so deeply that his forehead nearly touched the sand. 'Before the moon stands at its highest,' he promised quietly, 'I will be back. That I promise you, Rama, with all my heart.'