Disclaimer: Monkey Fist, Kim Possible and all related characters are the
property of the Walt Disney Corporation. I do not own them, and I am a bad
girl for using them in a story. Please don't sue me, I am a poor college
student and all you'll get is a stack of old textbooks. A greater sin is
my twisting the Ramayana for my own nefarious purposes. Hanuman, Rama,
Sita, Ravenna and Laksmana belong to the Hindu people. I really mean no
disrespect. Forgive me, Vishnu! Those interested in the real Ramayana
should try the translation by William Buck, which makes the epic accessible
to Western readers while not sacrificing its poetry. It's one heck of a
great story. Finally, I'd like to issue a "Mary Sue" alert for those
readers who can't stand original characters. There are a bunch here, and
hopefully none of them hit Mary Sue or Gary Stu status, though she does
seem to pop up at the worst time.
Hanuman speaks:
The story of my land is the story of waves of invaders and conquerors. It is the story of humanity, since the first of the naked apes climbed down from the trees and left the forest. First to my land, my India, were the simple people who came out of the primordial forests; they built shelter, tilled the soil, and came to know us, in their own way. Then from the north rode wild horsemen, who brought their own wild thunder- gods with them. They slaughtered the simple people and took their lands. They spilt lamb blood to the thunder head. And, as with all conquerors, the land they conquered conquered them. Little by little they forgot the cold and lonely steppes they once called home, the noisy and angry war gods they once worshipped. And they came to know us, the gods of the land, and came to tell our stories as their stories. Stories of amorous Krishna and voluptuous Parvati, of generous Ganesh and fearsome Kali. And my favorite, the tale of my good friend Rama, and his lady, Sita.
India 357 B.C.
The fortress of the demon lord Ravenna hovered one hundred feet off the ground. From Rama and Hanuman's viewpoint, it was a small speck in the sky, twinkling like a star, lit up by a thousand torches. The demons were preparing for a great celebration, the victory of their king.
"He has her," Rama said softly. "He has my beloved Sita."
Hanuman was taken aback by the depth of the despair in Rama's voice.
"Fear not, lord Rama," Hanuman said. "We shall get your lady back."
Rama tore his gaze away from the spot in the sky that held his wife, and looked into the wry, intelligent eyes of the his diminutive companion. Ever since his wife Sita had been carried off by a nine-headed demon he had learned to suspend his disbelief. So when, during his desperate search for Sita, a small white monkey climbed down from the trees, bowed to Rama, and offered the prince his services, Rama had accepted the primate's offer with little thought to the bizarreness of the situation. Such was his state of mind at being separated from his love.
During his quest, he had had plenty of time to think about it. Rama, his half-brother Laksmana and Hanuman the monkey had crossed burning deserts, hacked through deep jungles, climbed over mountains and through caves, battling man and demon in pursuit of Ravenna and Sita. During this journey Hanuman performed supernatural feats of strength and agility, and displayed an almost magical skill with medicine and healing. Clearly, Hanuman was no ordinary monkey.
"What are you?" Rama asked the monkey, his voice a half-awed, half- frightened whisper.
Hanuman grinned, his simian face quirked up in a sardonic smile that suggested an understanding of events beyond human ken. "I am your best friend, Lord Rama."
Hanuman speaks:
The story of my land is the story of waves of invaders and conquerors. It is the story of humanity, since the first of the naked apes climbed down from the trees and left the forest. First to my land, my India, were the simple people who came out of the primordial forests; they built shelter, tilled the soil, and came to know us, in their own way. Then from the north rode wild horsemen, who brought their own wild thunder- gods with them. They slaughtered the simple people and took their lands. They spilt lamb blood to the thunder head. And, as with all conquerors, the land they conquered conquered them. Little by little they forgot the cold and lonely steppes they once called home, the noisy and angry war gods they once worshipped. And they came to know us, the gods of the land, and came to tell our stories as their stories. Stories of amorous Krishna and voluptuous Parvati, of generous Ganesh and fearsome Kali. And my favorite, the tale of my good friend Rama, and his lady, Sita.
India 357 B.C.
The fortress of the demon lord Ravenna hovered one hundred feet off the ground. From Rama and Hanuman's viewpoint, it was a small speck in the sky, twinkling like a star, lit up by a thousand torches. The demons were preparing for a great celebration, the victory of their king.
"He has her," Rama said softly. "He has my beloved Sita."
Hanuman was taken aback by the depth of the despair in Rama's voice.
"Fear not, lord Rama," Hanuman said. "We shall get your lady back."
Rama tore his gaze away from the spot in the sky that held his wife, and looked into the wry, intelligent eyes of the his diminutive companion. Ever since his wife Sita had been carried off by a nine-headed demon he had learned to suspend his disbelief. So when, during his desperate search for Sita, a small white monkey climbed down from the trees, bowed to Rama, and offered the prince his services, Rama had accepted the primate's offer with little thought to the bizarreness of the situation. Such was his state of mind at being separated from his love.
During his quest, he had had plenty of time to think about it. Rama, his half-brother Laksmana and Hanuman the monkey had crossed burning deserts, hacked through deep jungles, climbed over mountains and through caves, battling man and demon in pursuit of Ravenna and Sita. During this journey Hanuman performed supernatural feats of strength and agility, and displayed an almost magical skill with medicine and healing. Clearly, Hanuman was no ordinary monkey.
"What are you?" Rama asked the monkey, his voice a half-awed, half- frightened whisper.
Hanuman grinned, his simian face quirked up in a sardonic smile that suggested an understanding of events beyond human ken. "I am your best friend, Lord Rama."