Valmiki Ramayana

  Sugrīva was pleased with what Hanumān said and his fear of Rāma left him as a fever leaves the body. He took on the form of a charming and handsome young man and spoke warmly to Rāma. ‘Hanumān has rightly described all your virtues to me. Indeed, you are disciplined and firm in the practice of dharma, you are strong and brave and your love embraces all creatures. It is a great honour as well as a great advantage for me that you seek my friendship and that of the monkeys. Take my hand and let us enter into a firm alliance!’

  Rāma took Sugrīva’s outstretched hand and gripped it firmly. Pleased that he had made the alliance he wanted, Rāma embraced Sugrīva with affection. Hanumān, meanwhile, relinquished the mendicant form that he had taken on and, in his own form, gathered some wood and made a fire. He worshipped it with an offering of flowers and then, with a glad heart, he placed the blazing fire between Sugrīva and Rāma. The two of them walked around the fire to cement their new friendship, gazing at each other fondly, as if they would never tire of the sight of the other.

  ‘My advisor Hanumān has told me how you came to live in this uninhabited forest,’ said Sugrīva to Rāma, ‘and also that while you were living there with your brother Lakṣmaṇa, a rākṣasa abducted your wife Sītā, the daughter of Janaka. The rākṣasa waited for the right moment and did this in your absence. He killed the vulture Jaṭāyu as he carried your wailing wife away. But you shall not suffer this separation from your wife for long! I shall bring her back, just as the sacred scriptures were recovered! Whether she be in the highest heaven or the lowest hell, I shall bring your wife back to you! I promise you this and you can count on my word, Rāma!

  ‘I feel sure, from logical deductions, that it was Sītā I saw being carried off by a cruel rākṣasa. She was crying out “Oh Rāma! Oh Lakṣmaṇa!” piteously as she writhed in Rāvaṇa’s arms like a serpent. Then she saw me and four other monkeys sitting on the top of a mountain and she threw down her shawl as well as some jewelled ornaments. We caught them and have kept them safely. I shall bring them here so that you can identify them.’

  ‘What is the delay, my friend?’ urged Rāma. ‘Have them brought here as soon as possible!’ Eager to please Rāma, Sugrīva ran to his inaccessible cave and fetched the jewels. Rāma’s eyes blurred with tears, as the moon is covered by mist, when he saw the jewels and the shawl. Overcome by his love for Sītā, he burst into tears. Crying, ‘Ah! My beloved!’ he threw himself on the ground. He clutched the jewels to his chest and sighed heavily, like an angry serpent hissing in its hole. His tears flowed thick and heavy and he turned to Lakṣmaṇa who stood by his side.

  ‘Look, Lakṣmaṇa! These are the jewels and the cloth that Sītā threw from her body on to the ground as she was being carried off!’ he said pathetically. ‘She must have thrown them on to the grassy slopes, for the ornaments are not in the least damaged!’

  ‘I cannot recognize her ear and hair ornaments,’ said Lakṣmaṇa. ‘I only know her anklets because I would touch her feet every morning.’

  ‘Tell me, Sugrīva,’ said Rāma, ‘where was this wicked rākṣasa taking my beloved wife, dearer to me than my

  own life, when you saw them? Where does that rākṣasa live? He has caused me so much grief that because of him, I am determined to exterminate the entire race of rākṣasas! Who is this creature who has opened the door of death for himself by abducting Sītā and incurring my terrible wrath? Tell me, great monkey, who was this who abducted my beloved from the forest? I shall send him to meet the god of death this very day!’

  Sugrīva’s eyes filled with tears and in a voice thick with emotion, he replied, ‘I have no idea where that wicked creature lives. Nor do I know anything about his family or his strength and prowess. But do not grieve, I promise you that I shall make every effort to get Sītā back! I shall use all my capacities, that you will find worthy of praise, and kill Rāvaṇa and his rākṣasa hordes. I shall do all that it takes to please you for as long as you want! Do not succumb to this weakness. Resort to your natural fortitude and forbearance! Such behaviour is for lesser men. It does not become you!

  ‘I, too, have suffered the terrible grief of separation from my wife. But I do not weep and lament and I have not lost heart. Even though I am only an ordinary monkey, I do not go on and on grieving. You are great-souled and self-restrained, you should be even stronger! Dry your tears! Do not lose the fortitude that governs the conduct of resolute men!

  ‘I speak like this out of concern for the welfare of a friend, Rāma. I do not presume to teach you! Respect my friendship and renounce your sorrow!’

  Somewhat comforted, Rāma wiped the tears from his face with his upper garment. Regaining his natural composure because of Sugrīva’s words, Rāma embraced the monkey. ‘You have fulfilled the duty of a friend who loves and wishes the best for someone,’ he said. ‘You have done what is right and worthy. My natural equanimity has been restored thanks to your persuasive words. It is hard to find friends as good as you, especially at a time like this!

  ‘What do we need to do now in order to find Sītā and the vicious rākṣasa Rāvaṇa? And you must also tell me, without any hesitation, what I have to do to help you. Our efforts will bear fruit like seeds sown just before the rains! You can count on my word, Sugrīva! I have never spoken an untruth nor shall I ever do so! I swear this by all that is true and I shall keep my promise!’

  Sugrīva and his advisors were delighted to hear Rāma’s words, reinforced by his solemn oath. The man and the monkey sat and chatted intimately about all that was important to them. And the king of the monkeys knew in his heart that his ends were as good as achieved.

  Nine

  In a voice that trembled with happiness, Sugrīva began to tell Rāma his story. ‘I have been treated unfairly by my brother and because of that I have to wander around this Ṛṣyamūka mountain, bereft of my wife and stricken with fear and sorrow. I live in constant terror, distracted and disoriented by this fear of my brother Vālī who has taken all that I had and become my mortal enemy. You are the one who rids the world of fear. Take pity on me! I am terrorized by Vālī and I have no protection!’

  ‘To help is the sign of a friend, just as to harm is the sign of an enemy!’ said Rāma who knew and loved dharma and was a man of great power. ‘Today I shall kill the monkey who took your wife away from you! You shall watch as your brother, who has done you wrong and is your enemy, is slain by my arrows as a mountain is split!’

  ‘Good! Good!’ said Sugrīva, reassured by Rāma’s words. ‘Rāma, I am tormented by my troubles and you are the last resort for creatures like me! I come to you with my sorrows because of our mutual alliance. I can tell you about the troubles that consume me like a fire because we are friends!’ Sugrīva’s eyes filled with tears and he could barely speak as they threatened to choke him. His tears flowed like a river in spate but with a great effort he managed to staunch them. He wiped his beautiful eyes, sighed deeply and continued.

  ‘Long ago, I was driven out of the kingdom by Vālī who was stronger and very critical of me. He stole my wife who was dearer to me than my own life and he imprisoned all my friends and well-wishers. That blackguard tried many times to destroy me and I have killed several monkeys that he sent here with that express purpose. That is why I was so suspicious when I saw you and did not move from this place! Everything is terrifying when there is a cause for fear!

  ‘Hanumān and the others are my only companions. And though I am in a bad way, I have survived only because of them. They protect me from all sides and look after me because they love me. They go where I go and stay where I stay. This, in short, is my story, Rāma. Why go into any details? The gist of it is that my own older brother, who is known for his strength, is my deadly enemy. My sorrows will end when he is destroyed. My life and my happiness depend on his death!’

  ‘But what is the reason for this hostility?’ asked Rāma. ‘I would like to hear about that! Then I will consider the matter carefully and decide upon the best way to rest
ore you to happiness. The tale of your humiliation makes me very angry. You shall see your enemy destroyed the moment I release my arrow!’

  The monkeys and Sugrīva were thrilled when they heard what Rāma said and with a lighter heart Sugrīva began to tell Rāma the whole story.

  ‘My brother, the slayer of his enemies, is named Vālī. In the old days, my father thought very highly of him and so did I. When my father died, Vālī was placed on the throne by the ministers because he was older and because they held him in high regard. He ruled the kingdom that has come down to us from our forefathers and I obeyed him at all times.

  ‘Long before that, Vālī had a famous fight over a woman with Māyāvī, the oldest son of Dundubhi. One night, when everyone was asleep, Māyāvī came to the gates of Kiṣkindha and created a mighty din, challenging Vālī to a fight. My brother was also asleep but he woke when he heard that great shout and, unable to tolerate the insult, came out quickly. Determined to kill that mighty asura, Vālī left Kiṣkindha immediately. Even though his wives and I pleaded with him in all humility, he brushed us aside. But I followed him out of affection.

  ‘When the asura saw my brother and me coming after him from a distance, he fled in terror. We both ran after him and the moon lit up our path. The asura ran into a crevice that was covered with grass and seemed hard to access but we followed him to the mouth of the cave. Vālī was enraged when he saw his enemy disappearing into the hole and in a frenzy he said to me, “Stand here, Sugrīva, and guard the entrance to the cave. I will go and kill this hostile creature!” I begged him to let me go with him but he made me swear that I would stay there and plunged into the cave.

  ‘An entire year went by after he entered there and all that time I stood guard at the entrance. I saw no sign of Vālī and I assumed the worst. I presumed that he was dead and because of my affection for him, I was very upset. I heard the shouts of the asura but I heard nothing from my brother who was engrossed in the fight. That made me think that my brother was dead. I covered the entrance to the cave with a rock that was as big as a mountain and after performing the funeral rites for my brother, I returned to Kiṣkindha with a heavy heart.

  ‘Though I made every effort to hide the truth, the ministers heard what had happened and after consulting each other they crowned me king. While I was ruling the kingdom justly and well, Vālī returned, having killed the hostile asura. His eyes blazed with anger when he saw that I had become king. He imprisoned my councillors and berated me harshly. I could have had him thrown into prison but, out of respect for the fact that he was my older brother, I did not want to treat that wicked creature so badly. I honoured him and treated him with respect but Vālī did not invoke blessings upon me.

  ‘I tried to placate my brother who was in a towering rage. “Thank goodness you are well and that the enemy has been destroyed! I am vulnerable and you are my only protector! Accept this fly whisk and this royal umbrella, that shines like the moon, which I shall hold over your head. You are the rightful king now, as you were before. I return to you the kingdom that I held in trust. Do not be angry with me, dear brother! I beg you with my palms joined and my head at your feet! The councillors and the citizens felt that a kingless country would be vulnerable to conquest and so they conferred and forced me to be king!”

  ‘And though I spoke from deep and sincere affection, that monkey was not moved. “Damn you!” he shouted and began to berate me and say all kinds of terrible things about me in front of the citizens and the ministers whom he had called together. “You know how the asura Māyāvī came here one night. That cruel and wicked fool, eager for battle, challenged me to a fight” he said. “I came out of Kiṣkindha when I heard his call and this ill-intentioned brother of mine followed me quickly. When the great asura saw us coming after him, he ran away in fright and entered a huge hole in the earth. I saw that and told this wicked brother of mine to wait for me at the entrance because I could not return to the city without killing Māyāvī. I thought my brother would do as I asked. When I entered the cave, it took me a whole year to find the asura. I saw that creature who strikes terror into the hearts of his opponents and I killed him and his entire family. Blood poured out of the asura’s mouth when I killed him and it filled the cave. I wanted to get out but I found that the entrance was blocked. I called out to Sugrīva again and again and was very angry when there was no response. I began to kick at the blocked entrance until, finally, I got out and returned to the city. This ruthless creature forgot all about filial love and trapped me in there because of his desire for the throne!”

  ‘Then Vālī threw me out with only the single piece of clothing that I was wearing. He threw me out and took my wife. Since then, I have wandered all over the earth with its forests and oceans, living in fear of him. Grieving for my lost wife, I came to live here on the Ṛṣyamūka mountain because the area is forbidden to Vālī for a certain reason.

  ‘Now that I have told you everything about this terrible enmity, you will see, Rāma, that I have been made to suffer even though I am utterly innocent. You rid the world of fear. Be gracious to me and destroy this creature that I fear so much!’

  Righteous Rāma smiled. ‘My arrows are sharp and as bright as the sun. They never miss their mark. They shall be sped on their way by my anger and shall fall upon the wicked Vālī!’ said Rāma, his words filled with dharma. ‘Immoral Vālī, the abductor of your wife, shall not live a single moment after I have set eyes on him! From my own experience, I know that you must be plunged in an ocean of sorrow. But I shall help you across it and you shall have what your heart desires.’

  Sugrīva listened to Rāma’s words which were intended to make him take heart and feel better and he honoured Rāma and praised him. ‘I have no doubt you can consume the world with your flaming arrows, like the fire at the end of time!’ he said. ‘Listen carefully and I will describe Vālī’s courage and strength and his skills. Then you can decide what you should do.

  ‘Vālī can travel from the eastern ocean to the western and from the northern ocean to the southern before the sun has risen and not feel any fatigue. He climbs to the tops of the highest mountains and, breaking off their peaks, he tosses them into the air and catches them before they fall. Vālī breaks sap-filled trees in the forest just to prove his strength to himself.

  ‘There was an enormous buffalo named Dundubhi, white as the peaks of Mount Kailāsa, and he had the strength of a thousand elephants. He was wicked at heart, proud of his strength and courage, and he had become arrogant because of the boons he had received. Himāvat, the lord of the mountains, sent Dundubhi to challenge Vālī to a fight, for Vālī was invincible. Dundubhi arrived at Kiṣkindha in a rage. He had taken on the form of a terrifying buffalo with sharp horns, dark as the rain-filled clouds in the monsoon sky.

  ‘Mighty Dundubhi roared like the rumble of war drums and it was a sound that made the earth tremble. Nearby trees split open and the buffalo dug up the earth with his hooves. In his arrogance, he gouged at the city gates with his horns, like an elephant in rut. Vālī was in the inner apartments at the time but he came out in a temper when he heard that sound, like the moon surrounded by stars.

  ‘Vālī, lord of the monkeys and of all the forest creatures, spoke clearly and distinctly to Dundubhi. “Why are you blocking the gates of my city and roaring like this? I know that you are Dundubhi. Protect yourself, mighty one!” Dundubhi’s eyes blazed with anger as he replied. “You should not speak like this in front of women, hero! Come and fight with me so that I can assess your strength! Or if you like, I shall contain my anger for the night. Indulge your pleasures until the morning, monkey!”

  ‘Vālī dismissed Tārā and the other women and smiled slowly. “Do not assume that I am drunk!” he shouted in his rage. “Unless, of course, you are scared to fight me! Assume that I have drunk what heroes drink before they go into battle!” Vālī threw off the golden necklace that had been given to him by his father Indra and prepared himself for combat.

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nbsp; ‘He grabbed the mountainous Dundubhi by his horns and with a mighty roar, flung him to the ground. Blood poured from Dundubhi’s ears when he hit the ground and he lay there, dead. Vālī lifted that heavy and inert body in his arms and hurled it away with great force. It landed one full yojanā away but a few drops of blood fell from the body and were carried by the wind to the sage Matanga’s hermitage. Matanga saw the enormous carcass of the buffalo lying near by and, inflamed with anger, he cursed Vālī, who had thrown it. “Whoever threw this thing can never enter this area. He will die if he does so!” Vālī begged the sage to release him from the curse but to no avail. Since then, Vālī has not set foot on the Ṛ ṣyamūka mountain, nor even looked at it, for fear of the sage’s curse.

  ‘And I wander through these forests with my companions, free from fear, because I know that Vālī cannot set foot here. Look, you can see Dundubhi’s skeleton over there, large as a mountain. He was so proud of his strength that he brought about his own death.

  ‘See those seven sāla trees over there with their thick branches? Vālī could shake the trees and make the branches fall to the ground. I am giving you examples of Vālī’s strength. How will you kill him in battle, Rāma? If you can pierce even one of those sāla trees with a single arrow then I shall believe that you have the capacity to kill Vālī.’

  Rāma playfully lifted Dundubhi’s skeleton with his big toe and kicked it a distance of ten yojanās. Sugrīva watched and then, in front of Lakṣmaṇa, he said significantly, ‘The body was covered with flesh and blood when it was kicked away before, my friend! Now, Rāma, it is all bones and is as light as straw. Under these circumstances, I cannot judge who is stronger, you or Vālī!’

  Sugrīva’s pointed words made Rāma lift his mighty bow. He fitted it with a single arrow, aimed at the sāla trees and let it go with all his strength. The arrow resounded through the air and pierced all the seven trees as well as the mountain behind them before entering the earth. A little while later, the wondrous arrow came back and lodged itself in its quiver. The monkey was astounded and fell on the ground before Rāma, his head bowed, his ornaments dangling. Filled with delight, he honoured Rāma with his palms joined.