Hanuman’s tail snakes up in large fat coils. High on top of the coiled tail he perches, surveying the land below with a smug look on this face. The builder is incensed. He whips his workers who quickly pile bricks and fill with cement. Another floor comes up in nanoseconds. The building is now higher than Hanuman’s head. The builder is satisfied, but worried, after all, Hanuman is a god, is this the limit of his powers? Or can he rise higher? Hanuman laughs and shrinks down to human-size. “Really,” he says, “at that size, I would have to drink the whole ocean to quench my thirst. This is better.” The builder is left scratching his head and wondering who to whip to create water.