The Disguise of Hanuman: A Devotional Reflection
A reflection on courage, sacrifice, and spiritual truth.
You wouldn’t find my name in any scroll, but I stood beneath the walls of Lanka that day. Not as a soldier. Not as a god. I was a monkey—Vanara-born—sworn to Lord Rama’s service. My name is Hanuman.
When Rama—exiled prince, son of King Dasharatha—called for aid to rescue his wife Sita, who had been taken by the demon king Ravana, I bowed before him. He wasn’t just a prince. He was Lord Vishnu in mortal form. And Sita, his consort, was none other than Goddess Lakshmi.
I knew then: this was no ordinary journey. This was a Spiritual Journey, forged in love, duty, and Divine will.
The moment came in Kishkindha, Rama's temporary home among the Vanaras. Sugriva, our king, asked who among us could leap across the ocean—hundreds of miles wide—and find the demon’s city, Lanka. I watched everyone fall silent. Even Angada, the bravest of us, stepped back.
I knew I had the strength. Lord Krishna—another form of Vishnu—once whispered it into my spirit in lifetimes past. Still, I had forgotten. Fear clouds even the strongest hearts. That’s when Jambavan, the wise elder bear, stepped forward.
“You underestimate yourself, Hanuman,” he said. “You’ve forgotten who you are.”
And suddenly, like sunrise over a dark coast, I remembered. The wind-god Vayu was my father. Devotion—Bhakti—to Lord Rama burned within me like fire. I wasn’t just a Vanara. I was called for this. Formless power surged through my limbs.
I stood tall. “I will go,” I said.
One breath, and I was in sky. One thought on my mind: Sita. Not to rescue her—I couldn’t. That was Lord Rama’s destiny. My role was to find her. To offer her hope.
But when I reached Lanka’s golden gates, I faced a problem.
Lanka was guarded all over—Ravana’s city was no ordinary place. Sprawling towers, demon sentries, spells of illusion everywhere. If I entered as myself—a Vanara—it would be over. I'd be caught in seconds.
So I changed.
I became small. A cat-sized monkey. Ordinary. Silent.
A disguise not to deceive—but to serve Truth.
I crept through the alleys and temples. Gold and blood. Beauty and sin. Ravana had stolen everything sacred and twisted it.
Then, I found her.
Sita sat beneath an ashoka tree in the demon’s garden. Her sari was faded, her body thin, but her eyes burned still with fire. Even in grief, she looked like a goddess.
Demons circled, mocking her. Trying to break her spirit.
I waited.
Then, when they left, I climbed the tree. Dropped down a ring—Rama’s ring—into her lap.
She gasped. Looked up.
I knelt.
“Devi Sita,” I said. “I am Hanuman, servant of Lord Rama. He will come. He has not forgotten you.”
Her eyes filled. But she stayed composed.
“Why are you in this form?” she asked.
“To reach you. Ravana's eyes are everywhere.”
She closed her fingers around the ring.
“This pain…,” she whispered. “It won't end.”
“It will,” I said. “Your Bhakti is stronger than his chains. Rama comes. The Divine does not forget those who wait in devotion.”
That was my message. Hope through loyalty. Truth through sacrifice.
I left the garden, no longer hiding.
I grew again. Towered over the city. Shouted to the skies.
“I am Hanuman, messenger of the Lord!”
I let them catch me.
Let them bind me in ropes and fire my tail.
Because I had already won.
Then, with flames licking behind me, I set Lanka ablaze and leapt into the sky.
I returned to Rama not as a mere messenger—but as proof that truth walks even in darkest places.
That day, I learned disguise can be a tool—not for deceit—but for dharma.
Later, when Rama asked why I risked revealing myself in Lanka, I said this:
“My Lord, your name was the armor. My devotion the weapon. What, then, was left to fear?”
This is the lesson I share—not just with those who read the Ramayana, but with every heart on a spiritual journey:
We are more than what the world sees.
We are what we choose to serve.
I was born a Vanara.
But in service, I became more.
Bhakti changed me.
And it can change you.
—
📜 Keywords: Divine, Spiritual Journey, Bhakti, Krishna, Vishnu, Devotional Story
📖 Themes: truth, bhakti, loyalty
✍️ Style: Minimalist prose, inspired by Raymond Carver
📘 References: Valmiki’s Ramayana, Puranic literature
Final Word Count: 598 words.
The Disguise of Hanuman: A Devotional Reflection
A reflection on courage, sacrifice, and spiritual truth.
You wouldn’t find my name in any scroll, but I stood beneath the walls of Lanka that day. Not as a soldier. Not as a god. I was a monkey—Vanara-born—sworn to Lord Rama’s service. My name is Hanuman.
When Rama—exiled prince, son of King Dasharatha—called for aid to rescue his wife Sita, who had been taken by the demon king Ravana, I bowed before him. He wasn’t just a prince. He was Lord Vishnu in mortal form. And Sita, his consort, was none other than Goddess Lakshmi.
I knew then: this was no ordinary journey. This was a Spiritual Journey, forged in love, duty, and Divine will.
The moment came in Kishkindha, Rama's temporary home among the Vanaras. Sugriva, our king, asked who among us could leap across the ocean—hundreds of miles wide—and find the demon’s city, Lanka. I watched everyone fall silent. Even Angada, the bravest of us, stepped back.
I knew I had the strength. Lord Krishna—another form of Vishnu—once whispered it into my spirit in lifetimes past. Still, I had forgotten. Fear clouds even the strongest hearts. That’s when Jambavan, the wise elder bear, stepped forward.
“You underestimate yourself, Hanuman,” he said. “You’ve forgotten who you are.”
And suddenly, like sunrise over a dark coast, I remembered. The wind-god Vayu was my father. Devotion—Bhakti—to Lord Rama burned within me like fire. I wasn’t just a Vanara. I was called for this. Formless power surged through my limbs.
I stood tall. “I will go,” I said.
One breath, and I was in sky. One thought on my mind: Sita. Not to rescue her—I couldn’t. That was Lord Rama’s destiny. My role was to find her. To offer her hope.
But when I reached Lanka’s golden gates, I faced a problem.
Lanka was guarded all over—Ravana’s city was no ordinary place. Sprawling towers, demon sentries, spells of illusion everywhere. If I entered as myself—a Vanara—it would be over. I'd be caught in seconds.
So I changed.
I became small. A cat-sized monkey. Ordinary. Silent.
A disguise not to deceive—but to serve Truth.
I crept through the alleys and temples. Gold and blood. Beauty and sin. Ravana had stolen everything sacred and twisted it.
Then, I found her.
Sita sat beneath an ashoka tree in the demon’s garden. Her sari was faded, her body thin, but her eyes burned still with fire. Even in grief, she looked like a goddess.
Demons circled, mocking her. Trying to break her spirit.
I waited.
Then, when they left, I climbed the tree. Dropped down a ring—Rama’s ring—into her lap.
She gasped. Looked up.
I knelt.
“Devi Sita,” I said. “I am Hanuman, servant of Lord Rama. He will come. He has not forgotten you.”
Her eyes filled. But she stayed composed.
“Why are you in this form?” she asked.
“To reach you. Ravana's eyes are everywhere.”
She closed her fingers around the ring.
“This pain…,” she whispered. “It won't end.”
“It will,” I said. “Your Bhakti is stronger than his chains. Rama comes. The Divine does not forget those who wait in devotion.”
That was my message. Hope through loyalty. Truth through sacrifice.
I left the garden, no longer hiding.
I grew again. Towered over the city. Shouted to the skies.
“I am Hanuman, messenger of the Lord!”
I let them catch me.
Let them bind me in ropes and fire my tail.
Because I had already won.
Then, with flames licking behind me, I set Lanka ablaze and leapt into the sky.
I returned to Rama not as a mere messenger—but as proof that truth walks even in darkest places.
That day, I learned disguise can be a tool—not for deceit—but for dharma.
Later, when Rama asked why I risked revealing myself in Lanka, I said this:
“My Lord, your name was the armor. My devotion the weapon. What, then, was left to fear?”
This is the lesson I share—not just with those who read the Ramayana, but with every heart on a spiritual journey:
We are more than what the world sees.
We are what we choose to serve.
I was born a Vanara.
But in service, I became more.
Bhakti changed me.
And it can change you.
—
📜 Keywords: Divine, Spiritual Journey, Bhakti, Krishna, Vishnu, Devotional Story
📖 Themes: truth, bhakti, loyalty
✍️ Style: Minimalist prose, inspired by Raymond Carver
📘 References: Valmiki’s Ramayana, Puranic literature
Final Word Count: 598 words.
