The saga begins amidst the heavy air of despair on the southern shores of the Indian peninsula. The great army of Vanaras, led by the monkey-prince Angada and the wise bear-king Jambavan, stood at the edge of the world. Before them lay the salt-sea, a churning, sapphire expanse that stretched beyond the horizon for a hundred yojanas. Their mission was clear but seemingly impossible: to find the Princess Sita, the beloved wife of Lord Rama, who had been abducted by the ten-headed Rakshasa king, Ravana. While the various search parties had scoured the north, east, and west, it was this southern group that had finally received word from the vulture-king Sampati that Sita was being held captive in the golden city of Lanka, across the forbidding waters.
As the Vanaras looked upon the crashing waves, a silence born of inadequacy fell over the host. Angada lamented that while he could leap far, he doubted his ability to return. Other warriors estimated their reach, but none could claim the strength to cross the hundred-yojana gap and maintain enough energy to confront the demons of Lanka. It was in this moment of collective doubt that the elderly and venerable Jambavan turned his gaze toward a silent figure sitting apart from the rest. Hanuman, the son of the wind-god Vayu and the celestial nymph Anjana, sat in quiet contemplation, seemingly unaware of the magnitude of his own potential. Jambavan approached him and began to recount the forgotten history of Hanuman’s birth and the unique boons bestowed upon him by the gods.
In his childhood, Hanuman had once mistaken the rising sun for a ripe fruit and leaped into the heavens to seize it. This act of divine audacity had led to an intervention by Indra, the king of the gods, but subsequently resulted in the child being blessed by the entire pantheon. He was granted invulnerability to weapons, the ability to change his size at will, and speed that rivaled the wind itself. However, due to a youthful mischief involving the hermitage of sages, a mild curse had been placed upon him: he would forget his immense powers until a time of great need when someone of wisdom reminded him of his true nature. As Jambavan spoke, the 'Son of the Wind' felt a dormant fire ignite within his spirit. His stature began to grow, his muscles rippled like the waves of the ocean, and a golden aura began to emanate from his form. The curse was lifted; the hero had awakened.
Recognizing that no ordinary ground could support the force of his launch, Hanuman ascended Mount Mahendra. As he climbed, the mountain groaned under the sudden increase of his weight. Upon reaching the peak, he offered his obeisance to the Sun, the Wind, and his master, Lord Rama. He contracted his body and then expanded it to a colossal size, his head touching the very clouds. With a roar that shook the earth and sent the local wildlife fleeing in terror, Hanuman pushed off from the summit. The force was so great that trees were uprooted and drawn into the vacuum of his wake, and the mountain itself sank several inches into the earth. Hanuman was no longer a mere creature of the earth; he had become a golden projectile streaking across the sky, his tail trailing behind him like a comet.
As he soared, the first of his trials appeared from the depths of the ocean. Mainaka, a golden mountain that had once possessed wings, rose from the waves. In ages past, when Indra was clipping the wings of mountains to stabilize the earth, Vayu had saved Mainaka by blowing him into the safety of the sea. Out of gratitude to the Wind-god, Mainaka rose to offer Vayu’s son a place to rest. 'O mighty Hanuman,' the mountain rumbled, 'come rest upon my peaks and partake in the fruits I grow before you continue your arduous journey.' Hanuman, however, was consumed by his duty. He recognized the kindness but knew that any delay could be fatal to his mission. He gracefully touched the peak of the mountain with a single finger to acknowledge the hospitality, saying, 'I have sworn an oath not to rest until I have found Sita. Your gesture is accepted, but my path is forward.'
No sooner had he left Mainaka behind than a more sinister obstacle appeared. The gods, wishing to test Hanuman’s wit and resolve, sent Surasa, the Mother of Nagas, to intercept him. She took the form of a gargantuan, hideous demoness rising from the water, her mouth agape like a cavern. 'It is my boon that none shall pass without entering my mouth,' she hissed. Hanuman pleaded for his mission, but Surasa remained adamant. Seeing no other way, Hanuman challenged her. As she grew her mouth to swallow him, Hanuman grew his body even larger. Surasa expanded her jaws to fifty yojanas; Hanuman grew to sixty. This cosmic game of size-shifting continued until Surasa’s mouth was a hundred yojanas wide. In a flash of brilliant intellect, Hanuman suddenly shrunk his body to the size of a thumb, flew into her mouth, and darted out of her ear before she could snap her jaws shut. Having technically fulfilled her condition, he bowed to her, and she, impressed by his cleverness, blessed him for the journey ahead.