Week 4: The Range of a Mountain

Author’s Note: There are so many characters who you get a tiny bite out of in the Ramayana.  Many of them are interesting and have wonderful and complex stories behind them.  In the story of Hanuman and Medicine Hill there is a brief mention of the Himalaya as Hanuman and his heroics are the main focus of the story since it is meant to progress the Ramayana plot.  However, since Indian myths personify nature like the Himalayan mountain range (AKA King of Mountains Himavath) there is a definite backstory that can be explored about the different characters and the natural elements in the stories.  I chose to explore the personality of the Himalaya so this story is told from third person focusing on his point-of-view.  Since he comes in at around the middle of the myth from the Ramayana, this story opens with Hanuman picking Himavath/Himalaya out of the ground.

The Range of a Mountain/A Mountain’s Travels

Himalaya is the King of the Mountains.  His tallest peak crowns the range with grace and a snow cap untouched by mortality.  Draped down his jagged face is a white casting of silk, which melts in the spring and floods the Ganges with fatherly tears of joy.  His eyes are fogged, stuck in the middle of a blink so his lids hang sleepily over his cavernous eyes.  Deep in his roots, underneath rotting soil and precious gems, is the memory of his life as Himavath for that body has turned into the rock of the range.  Himalaya had stood, sat, slept, wept, and laughed in the same spot for centuries.  He feels himself part of the Earth now, in a bond unbreakable and yet fragile as the Gods fight amongst themselves.

He did not know how the fight would come to him.  It was a peaceful morning.  Steam rises from between the oaks, the pines whispering secrets and sightings of Hanuman racing across the ocean.  Himalaya adored the gossiping trees and how the wind carried their hushed words from one branch to the next.  But this morning, underneath the peaceful song of birds, was a lurking fear of the war which approached with the bounding of Hanuman towards the mountain’s range.  When the Wind-God’s son arrived Himalaya greeted him with the flowing Ganges and bursting fruit from the trees in the valley.

“Friend, I welcome you to the Himalayan Range.”  Hanuman was not interested in pleasantries and he scowled at the mountain’s soft voice.  Himalaya sighed, breath resonating deep in his earthen bones, for he could see the war-sick color of Hanuman’s eyes.  The love which Rama fought for was costing a heavy price of gentleness.

“I seek not pleasures, but of will to defeat Ravana.  I need the herbs which return life to those slain in battle with the rakshasas.”

Hanuman impatiently searched the mountain.  He swept through the valley, dashed through the trees, and left many rocks unturned.  Finally, the son of the Wind-God shouted his anger and announced he would look no longer.  Himalaya was glad to hear Hanuman was planning to leave for his presence brought the mountain great distress.  Then, the most astounding thing happened.

Hanuman placed his hands on either side of the mountain and pulled.  Himalaya tore from the Earth.  Hanuman lifting him felt like an itch finally being scratched as an emptiness overtook the mountain’s connection with the ground.  He tried to protest but Hanuman was already leaping away from the mountain’s range.

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