Sundarakāṇḍa Sarga 32 — Sītā’s Perplexity and Recognition of Hanumān
सुन्दरकाण्ड
This sarga stages the first psychologically complex moments of Sītā’s encounter with Hanumān in the Aśoka grove. She sees a tawny vanara figure, lightning-like in brilliance and clad in pale/white coverings, concealed among branches; the sight destabilizes her already grief-stricken mind. Alternating between fear, fainting, and reflective analysis, Sītā tests whether the experience is dream, omen, or hallucination, citing her sleeplessness under sorrow and separation from the “full-moon-faced” Rāma. She repeatedly verbalizes Rāma’s name and Lakṣmaṇa’s, then reasons: desire (manoratha) is formless, yet the speaker before her has a manifest form—therefore the experience demands a different explanation than mere mental projection. The chapter closes with her reverential invocation to deities associated with speech, sovereignty, creation, and fire (Indra, Bṛhaspati/Vācaspati, Brahmā/Svayambhū, and Agni), wishing that the vanara’s words prove true. The sarga thus combines close interior monologue with ethical-epistemic scrutiny: how a traumatized witness verifies truth when perception is impaired by grief.
Verse 5.32.1
ततश्शाखान्तरे लीनं दृष्ट्वा चलितमानसा।वेष्टितार्जुनवस्त्रं तं विद्युत्सङ्घातपिङ्गलम्।।।।
Then, seeing him hidden between the branches—clad in white and tawny like a mass of lightning—Sītā’s mind grew unsettled and uncertain.
Verse 5.32.2
सा ददर्श कपिं तत्र प्रश्रितं प्रियवादिनम्।फुल्लाशोकोत्कराभासं तप्तचामीकरेक्षणम्।।।।
Seeing the foremost of the monkeys standing near in humility, the noble Maithilī pondered: “Is this a dream?”
Verse 5.32.3
मैथिली चिन्तयामास विस्मयं परमं गता।अहो भीममिदं रूपं वानरस्य दुरासदम्।।।।दुर्निरीक्षमिति ज्ञात्वा पुनरेव मुमोह सा।
As she looked about, she beheld the son of the Wind-god—broad of frame, with a curved face—an obedient servant and minister of the tawny monkey-lord, foremost among the wise.
Verse 5.32.4
विललाप भृशं सीता करुणं भयमोहिता।।।।रामरामेति दुःखार्ता लक्ष्मणेति च भामिनी।रुरोद बहुधा सीता मन्दं मन्दस्वरा सती।।।।
At the very sight of him, Sītā lost consciousness, as though life itself were departing. After a long while, regaining her senses, the large-eyed lady began to reflect once more.
Verse 5.32.5
विललाप भृशं सीता करुणं भयमोहिता।।5.32.4।।रामरामेति दुःखार्ता लक्ष्मणेति च भामिनी।रुरोद बहुधा सीता मन्दं मन्दस्वरा सती।।5.32.5।।
For now I am tormented by love for him, my whole being absorbed in him. Constantly thinking only of him, I seem likewise to see him—and likewise to hear him.
Verse 5.32.6
सा तं दृष्ट्वा हरिश्रेष्ठं विनीतवदुपस्थितम्।मैथिली चिन्तयामास स्वप्नोऽयमिति भामिनी।।।।
I think, “Perhaps this is only a longing of the mind.” Yet I reason with my understanding: what is the cause? For that longing has no form—whereas this one, clearly embodied, is speaking to me.
Verse 5.32.7
सा वीक्षमाणा पृथुभुग्नवक्त्रं शाखामृगेन्द्रस्य यथोक्तकारम्।ददर्श पिङ्गाधिपते रमात्यं वातात्मजं बुद्धिमतां वरिष्ठम्।।।।
Salutations to Bṛhaspati, lord of speech; to Indra, wielder of the thunderbolt; to self-born Brahmā; and to Agni, the sacred Fire. May what this forest-dweller has spoken before me be true—so be it, and not otherwise.
Verse 5.32.8
सा तं समीक्ष्यैव भृशं विसंज्ञा गतासुकल्पेन बभूव सीता।चिरेण संज्ञां प्रतिलभ्य भूयो विचिन्तयामास विशालनेत्रा।।।।
Seeing him, Sītā at once fell utterly senseless, as though life had departed from her. After a long while, regaining consciousness, the large-eyed lady began to reflect again.
Verse 5.32.9
स्वप्ने मयाऽयं विकृतोऽद्य दृष्टश्शाखामृगश्शास्त्रगणैर्निषिद्धः।स्वस्त्यस्तु रामाय स लक्ष्मणाय तथा पितुर्मे जनकस्य राज्ञः।।।।
Today, in a dream, I saw a deformed monkey—an omen the teachings of the śāstras forbid as inauspicious. Yet may well-being and auspiciousness be for Rāma and for Lakṣmaṇa, and likewise for my father, King Janaka.
Verse 5.32.10
स्वप्नोऽपि नायं नहि मेऽस्ति निद्रा शोकेन दुःखेन च पीडितायाः।सुखं हि मे नास्ति यतोऽस्मि हीना तेनेन्दुपूर्णप्रतिमाननेन।।।।
This is no dream—sleep does not come to me, tormented by grief and pain. I have no happiness, for I am separated from him whose face is like the full moon.
Verse 5.32.11
रामेति रामेति सदैव बुद्ध्या विचिन्त्य वाचा ब्रुवती तमेव।तस्यानुरूपां च कथां तदर्थमेवं प्रपश्यामि तथा शृणोमि।।।।
“Rāma, Rāma”—thus I think of him always in my mind and speak of him alone with my voice. And for his sake, fitting tales of him arise: so I seem to see him, and so I seem to hear him.
Verse 5.32.12
अहं हि तस्याद्य मनोभवेन सम्पीडिता तद्गतसर्वभावा।विचिन्तयन्ती सततं तमेव तथैव पश्यामि तथा शृणोमि।।।।
There she saw a monkey who approached with humility and spoke in pleasing words—radiant like a cluster of fully blossomed aśoka flowers, his eyes gleaming like molten gold.
Verse 5.32.13
मनोरथस्स्यादिति चिन्तयामि तथापि बुद्ध्या च वितर्कयामि।किं कारणं तस्य हि नास्ति रूपं सुव्यक्तरूपश्च वदत्ययं माम्।।।।
Maithilī, overcome with great astonishment, began to ponder: “Alas—this form of the vanara is terrifying, hard to approach, and difficult to look upon.” Thinking so, she fainted once again.
Verse 5.32.14
नमोऽस्तु वाचस्पतये सवज्रिणे स्वयंभुवे चैव हुताशनाय च।अनेन चोक्तं यदिदं ममाग्रतो वनौकसा तच्छ तथास्तु नान्यथा।।।।
Overcome by fear and confusion, Sītā lamented piteously. In her sorrow she cried, “Rāma, Rāma,” and “Lakṣmaṇa,” weeping again and again in a faint, subdued voice.