Having been honoured by Sita, Lord Hanuman left that place, thinking that a small work remained: he had seen the dark-eyed lady. Of the four means, he reasoned, treaty, gifts and sowing dissension would not serve with rakshasas proud of their strength, and only a display of prowess seemed to fit. So he resolved to destroy Ravana's grove, expecting that this would send Ravana into a fury.1
Furious as the Wind, he set about knocking down the trees and devastated that garden of the damsels. Then, having done what was most disagreeable to Ravana, the lord of the world, he stood at the main entrance, flaming in effulgence, wanting to meet a vast host alone.2
Grim-faced rakshasis, waking from sleep, saw the wood laid waste and the mighty vanara. They asked Sita who he was. She answered that she had no power to read rakshasas who could change shape: they must know who he was and what he was doing, as serpents know the way of serpents; she was frightened and took him for a rakshasa who had come in some assumed shape. The rakshasis reported to Ravana that a terrible vanara, after speaking with Janaki, stayed in the middle of the Ashoka wood; and Ravana ordered his servants to punish Hanuman.3
Hanuman proclaimed victory to Lord Rama and Lakshmana and to King Sugriva, protected by Raghava; he was the servant of Rama of untiring deeds, Hanuman, the offspring of the Wind. Surrounded at the gate by Ravana's retainers, he took up a bolt and slew them.4
Thinking that he had not yet destroyed the shrine of the rakshasas' gods, Hanuman demolished that building too. Ravana sent Prahasta's son Jambumali, then seven sons of his counsellors, then five of the foremost leaders of his forces, and at last his own son, Prince Aksha; Hanuman slew each in turn and waited again at the same gate.5
Then Ravana, in wrath, ordered Indrajit to take the field against the vanara. Indrajit, son of the lord of the rakshasas, set out, and in the fight he discharged at Hanuman the weapon Lord Brahma, the Great-father, had given him. Bound by it, Hanuman reasoned that he was protected by Lord Brahma, Lord Indra and the Wind-god, and that being carried off by the rakshasas could even benefit him, for he would speak with their lord.6
Before Ravana, Hanuman marvelled at the king's form, patience, strength and splendour; if the lord of the rakshasas were not so impious, he thought, he could be the protector of the celestial regions with Indra. He told Ravana that he came at Sugriva's command, as a messenger of Rama, and asked him to hear words for his own good. He urged Ravana to return Janaki to Rama, and warned that no one in the three worlds could wrong Raghava and find ease. Hearing this distasteful yet excellent speech, Ravana, his eyes whirling in wrath, ordered Hanuman destroyed.7
Ravana's brother Vibhishana disagreed. Rulers who knew right from wrong, he said, never put messengers to death. Ravana agreed that slaying a messenger was improper, and ordered another punishment: let his tail be set on fire, and when it was consumed let him go.8
The rakshasas wrapped his tail in old cotton cloth, soaked it in oil and lit it. Hanuman thought that he could kill them all but let it be, so as not to spoil the delight Rama would take in what he had done. When Sita heard of it, she, burning in grief, approached the Fire and prayed: if she had served her husband, had merit and had been the wife of one alone, he should be cool to Hanuman. Hanuman wondered why the flame did not hurt him.9
Then Hanuman set fire to the houses of Lanka, beginning with Prahasta's and going on to the residence of Ravana himself, but he left Vibhishana's alone. Women with babes at their breasts plunged into the fire, and as fire is never sated with wood, Hanuman never tired of slaying the foremost rakshasas. As Rudra burned Tripura, Hanuman burned Lanka, and the rakshasas raised a great uproar of lament. Having consumed the city, he quenched the fire of his tail in the ocean.10
Looking at the burnt and ruined city, Hanuman was filled with fear and remorse. What a mighty iniquity he had committed, he thought, by burning Lanka of his own accord; blessed were those who quenched their wrath by good sense, as water quenches fire. Surely Janaki had been burnt with the city, and so he had foolishly spoilt his master's work; burning Lanka was a trifle, but in his wrath he had lost his great object. He thought he ought to give up his life.11
Then he took heart. Perhaps she had been preserved by her own energy and had not met her end. As he thought of the greatness of her religious merit, he heard the Charanas say that Lanka was burnt but, to their wonder, Janaki was not. Knowing that the king's daughter was unhurt, he resolved to see her once more before returning.12
Seeing Janaki seated at the foot of the Sinsapa tree, he saluted her and said that by luck he saw her unhurt. He told her to console herself and wait for the hour, for soon she would see Ravana slain in battle by Rama. Having consoled Videha's daughter, he set his heart on departing and saluted Vaidehi.13