Before Hanuman decided to jump across the ocean to know mother Sita’s whereabouts, he was quiet in a reflective mood as if he was not a part of the ‘search mission’.
The demeanor of Hanuman before deciding to jump was rather non-violent and modest, which normally would be appreciated. But on deciding to jump, the same Hanuman completely changed his disposition. He became boastful, even stated himself to be greater than Garuda and became violent. The weight of his body caused the mountain to vomit minerals in liquid form. The animals were disturbed. Snakes, provoked turbulently from their slumber, started throwing up poison from their mouths. When Hanuman took off, most trees were uprooted. Plants, flowers and creepers flew in the air and were scattered hither thither. It was as if an earthquake and hurricane had occurred together.
The great Valmiki Maharshi describes these scenes very beautifully. There was so much violence but so much beauty. He says, “All the flowers were coming with Hanuman to see him off and went along with him over a long distance. Just like relatives come to see off the departing guest. And the large trees that were uprooted were the relatives who came to see off Rama to a little distance.”
Valmiki gives the flavour of opposites in one instance – cruelty in beauty and beauty in violence. He also points out the non-utility of peaceful inaction in this situation.
Hanuman is beautifully tough and violently graceful. It is wonderful how Ramayana and Mahabharata are violently sweet and passionately compassionate. Can we assimilate and digest these pills, which are difficult to swallow but, at the same time, very digestible and sweet?
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