The Divine Feast: Hanuman’s Devotion Story – When Lord Shiva Blessed Sankat Mochan

The sun rose over Ayodhya, casting golden rays upon a kingdom that had finally found its rightful ruler. Lord Ram had assumed the throne, and contentment flowed through the hearts of his subjects like the sacred Sarayu through their blessed land. Ram Rajya had begun, and with it came an era of unparalleled peace.

One morning, high above the mortal realm in the snow-clad peaks of Kailash, a desire stirred in the heart of Mahadev. He wished to visit his beloved Ram. Turning to his divine consort, he said, “Come, Parvati. Let us journey to Ayodhya.”

The divine couple descended from their celestial abode, their arrival in Ayodhya bringing waves of joy to the hearts of Sita and Ram. Mother Janaki received them with the reverence befitting such exalted guests, her eyes sparkling with devotion. Soon, she excused herself and made her way to the kitchen, determined to prepare a meal worthy of the lord of lords himself.

As the guests settled in, Shiva’s eyes wandered across the palace chambers. Something—or rather, someone—was conspicuously absent. “Where is Hanuman?” he inquired of Ram. “I do not see him anywhere.”

Ram smiled knowingly. “He must be in the garden, resting beneath his favorite tree.”

Curiosity piqued, Shiva requested permission to visit the garden. With Parvati by his side, he walked through the palace gates into a sanctuary of earthly beauty. Flowers bloomed in riotous colors, and trees swayed gently in the breeze. But what truly captured their attention lay beneath a dense mango tree.

There, the mighty Hanuman—who had leaped across oceans and carried mountains—lay fast asleep, completely oblivious to the world around him. Yet even in slumber, his devotion remained unbroken. With each breath, each rhythmic snore, emerged the sacred name: “Ram… Ram… Ram…”

Shiva and Parvati exchanged astonished glances. Then Parvati, her lips curving into a gentle smile, pointed upward. The branches of the mango tree were swaying—not from the wind, but in response to the divine name emanating from Hanuman. The very leaves seemed to whisper in harmony: “Ram… Ram…”

The melody of devotion proved irresistible. Mahadev, the supreme yogi himself, found his feet moving of their own accord. Before long, he was dancing, lost in the ecstasy of Ram’s name. Parvati joined him, her graceful movements adding to the celestial celebration.

The divine dance created vibrations that rippled through the cosmos. Drawn by this extraordinary display, celestial beings descended from the heavens, gathering in the garden. Soon, the space was filled with gods and goddesses, all swaying to the rhythm of Ram’s name while Hanuman continued to sleep peacefully beneath the tree.

Back in the palace, Mother Sita stood by the beautifully arranged meal, glancing toward the door with increasing concern. The afternoon had stretched into evening, yet her guests had not returned. Finally, she summoned Lakshman. “Please go to the garden and call everyone for the meal.”

Lakshman, whose very purpose of incarnation was to serve his elder brother, promptly obeyed. But when he reached the garden and witnessed the divine spectacle before him—Shiva dancing, celestial beings singing, and all this sparked by the sleeping Hanuman’s unconscious chanting—he too became swept up in the spiritual fervor.

Time passed. The food grew cold. Sita’s worry deepened into genuine concern. “Something is amiss,” she said to Ram. “Come, let us go together and bring everyone back.”

When Sita and Ram entered the garden, they beheld a scene that belonged more to heaven than earth. The air shimmered with devotion, the atmosphere thick with divine presence. And at the center of it all lay Hanuman, still deep in sleep, still breathing out the name of his beloved lord with every snore.

Ram’s eyes filled with tears of love. He approached his devoted servant and gently shook him awake. Hanuman’s eyes flew open, and seeing his master standing before him, he leaped to his feet with characteristic swiftness. The spell broke. The dancing ceased. The celestial visitors returned to their attention.

Shiva’s voice rang out with genuine admiration. “Such devotion! Even in sleep, you remember your lord. This is bhakti in its purest form!”

Hanuman’s face colored with humble embarrassment, though his heart swelled with quiet joy. Ram, with affection brimming in his voice, invited everyone to partake of the meal that had been waiting so patiently.

The divine assembly moved toward the palace. Sita began serving the long-awaited feast, and at Ram’s insistence, Hanuman took his place among the diners. This created an unusual situation for the devoted servant, who had made it his life’s practice never to eat before his master had finished his meal.

Today, however, Ram had commanded him to eat first. Obedience to his lord’s word warred with his ingrained habit.

Sita began placing food on Hanuman’s leaf-plate. She served him once, then again, and yet again. But something was wrong. No matter how much she served, Hanuman showed no signs of satisfaction. His plate kept emptying, yet his hunger remained unabated. This was not the hunger of the body, Sita realized, but something deeper—a spiritual incompleteness.

Understanding dawned in her wise heart. She plucked a single tulsi leaf, inscribed upon it the sacred name of Ram, and placed it atop the food on Hanuman’s plate.

The effect was instantaneous. As soon as Hanuman consumed that tulsi leaf bearing his beloved’s name, complete satisfaction washed over him. The infinite hunger vanished. His soul was nourished. He stood, palms joined, his meal complete not through quantity but through the presence of Ram’s name.

Lord Shiva, witnessing this extraordinary demonstration of devotion, raised his hand in blessing. His voice carried the weight of divine prophecy: “Your devotion to Ram shall be remembered across all ages and through all yugas. You shall be known as Sankat Mochan —the remover of obstacles, the one who delivers devotees from their troubles. Wherever Ram’s name is spoken, there shall your presence be felt.”

And thus, in a garden in Ayodhya, over a meal that taught the universe about the true nature of satisfaction, Hanuman’s eternal glory was sealed—not through mighty deeds alone, but through the simple, profound act of remembering the divine name even in sleep.

For what greater devotion exists than that which continues even when consciousness itself has surrendered to rest?