High in the heavens, Indra listened as Rahu recounted his tale of a small child brazenly flying toward the sacred sun.

Indra knew that the sun must always be protected, for its light and warmth sustained every living being across the three worlds.

Fearing that something terrible might happen if the sun were disturbed, Indra rushed to see for himself what was happening.

Below him, Indra spotted the small figure of Maruti, still climbing eagerly through the sky, reaching for the sun with innocent delight.

"Stop, child!" Indra called out, but Maruti, filled with joyful hunger, did not hear him, or perhaps did not understand the danger at all.

Left with no choice, and fearing for the safety of the sun and the balance of the heavens, Indra raised his mighty Vajra, the thunderbolt.

With a heavy heart, Indra hurled the thunderbolt toward the small child, hoping only to stop him, never intending true harm.

The thunderbolt struck Maruti squarely on his jaw, and the little one tumbled from the sky, falling swiftly toward the earth below.

He landed upon a great mountain, his jaw injured and swollen from the impact, lying still and silent upon the rocky ground.

Vayu, sensing at once that his beloved son had been struck, rushed to the mountain, his heart aching with fear and sorrow.

When he found Maruti lying motionless, injured and unmoving, a great and terrible grief overtook the god of wind.

Vayu gently lifted his son into his arms, his sorrow turning swiftly into a righteous fury at what had been done to his innocent child.

In his grief and anger, Vayu withdrew himself entirely from the three worlds, taking with him every breath of wind and air.

Without Vayu's presence, the air grew perfectly still — no breeze stirred the leaves, and no breath could be drawn by any living being.

Across the heavens and the earth, all creatures began to struggle, gasping for air that no longer moved through the world at all.

Rivers stopped rippling, birds could not fly, and even the gods themselves felt the terrible weight of a world without wind.

Alarmed by the sudden crisis, the gods gathered together, realizing at once that only Vayu's return could save the three worlds from suffering.

Brahma, the creator, along with Indra and the other gods, hurried to the mountain where Vayu sat grieving over his injured son.

"Vayu, dear friend," Brahma said gently, "your sorrow is just, but the whole world suffers in your absence. Let us heal your son together."

Moved by Brahma's words, Vayu allowed the gods to approach, watching closely as they gathered around his beloved child.

Brahma placed his hand gently upon Maruti's jaw, and at once, the child's injuries began to heal, his breathing returning steady and strong.

Overjoyed at his son's recovery, Vayu's fury began to melt away, and slowly, the winds of the world began to stir once more.

Grateful for Vayu's mercy, and touched by the child's fearless, innocent heart, each of the gods chose to offer their own blessing in return.

Indra himself, feeling remorse for striking the child, granted that Maruti would never again be harmed by any thunderbolt.

"And because his jaw, his 'hanu,' was struck by my own hand," Indra declared, "let him be known from this day forward as Hanuman."

Surya, the sun god, moved by the child's fearless devotion in reaching for him, promised to one day share his own wisdom and teachings with young Hanuman.

Varuna, lord of the waters, blessed him with protection from ever being harmed by water or by any of his weapons.

Yama, keeper of life and death, granted that Hanuman would remain forever healthy and unharmed by disease or untimely death.

Kubera, lord of wealth, promised that Hanuman would never be struck by his own mace, and blessed him with unshakeable courage.

Vishwakarma, the divine architect, blessed him with protection from all of his own divine creations and weapons.

One by one, the gods offered their blessings, until young Hanuman had been granted strength, protection, and powers beyond any ordinary being.

Vayu gathered his son into his arms once more, overwhelmed with gratitude and pride at the extraordinary destiny now woven into his tiny life.

He carried Hanuman gently back down to the forest, where Anjana and Kesari waited anxiously, and placed their son safely back into his mother's arms.

As Anjana held her son close, she looked upon him with wonder, sensing that this little one — blessed by the wind, the sun, and every god in the heavens — was destined for a journey far greater than she could ever have imagined.