During the dark hours of predawn, from his shelter in the boughs Hanuman heard the chant of the Vedas by the Brahmins among the rakshasas. Soon one more day dawned on the island kingdom of Lanka and in the palace woke up its ruler to of sounds music. Even as Ravana came awake from his slumber, memories of Sita rose in him like ripples in water. And on the wings of those memories flew Ravana who could not control the impious passion that possessed his soul. His jewels, his garlands and his clothes were in disarray. His mind was still clouded from a night of intoxicating drinks, but the infatuation which was driving him, made him oblivious of all norms of decorum. A bevy of beautiful women followed their master, bearing fans, umbrellas, torches, water pitchers and scented lamps. The wives of Ravana who were in equal disarray traipsed behind him. Red eyed with sleep and languid in the aftermath of night- long revelry they came in Ravana's wake with unsteady gait. Loosened tresses shed flowers and beads of sweat glistened on their foreheads but Ravana unmindful of them all strode along relentlessly. Hanuman witnessed the arrival of Ravana whose power and might were inconceivable. He beheld the glowing bejewelled form enter with an arrogance in his stride and lust in his roving red eyes. His carelessly draped shawl white as the ocean's foam trailed behind him, a symbol of his haste and impatience. Bedazzled by the radiance and power that Ravana exuded, Hanuman clambered down to view his enemy better but quickly scurried back intimidated by Ravana's fierce glow. From his safe perch he watched Ravana walk towards Sita eager to behold the beauty from Ayodhya with her dark lotus eyes soft lips slender waist, and full hips.