Hanuman and the Sun

When Hanuman was a baby, he was no ordinary baby. His father was the wind, and so the little monkey could leap higher and farther than anything you can picture. He bounced off treetops. He turned somersaults over the hills. His mother could barely keep her eyes on him.

One morning, Hanuman woke up very, very hungry. And as he looked up into the sky, he saw it. Round, and ripe, and glowing a beautiful golden red, just rising over the mountains.

“A mango,” said baby Hanuman to himself. “The biggest, juiciest mango in the whole world. And it is mine.”

It was not a mango. It was the sun.

But Hanuman did not know that, and even if he had, it is not clear it would have stopped him. He crouched down low, he wiggled, and he sprang up into the sky with his mouth wide open, climbing higher and higher, reaching for his enormous golden breakfast.

Well. You can imagine the fright this gave everybody. The sun is rather important, and here was a small monkey rushing straight at it. The king of the gods saw what was happening and threw a bolt of lightning to stop him. It caught Hanuman on the chin with a thump, and the startled baby went tumbling all the way back down, down, down, and landed in a soft heap, more surprised than hurt.

But oh, his father the wind was not pleased. Nobody bumps his little one. In his upset he gathered up all the air in the world and held it close, and suddenly nobody anywhere could catch a proper breath.

So the gods came hurrying, every one of them, to make peace with the wind and to say sorry to one small bruised monkey. They leaned over Hanuman and they gave him gift after gift. You will be mighty, they said. You will be wise. You will be brave, and strong, and you will do great things one day.

Hanuman blinked up at them all, rubbed his sore little chin, and gurgled a happy gurgle. He had not got his mango. But it had, all things considered, turned into a very good morning.