Valmiki Ramayana

  Thrilled with Rāma’s feat, Sugrīva said to the man who knew dharma, who was the foremost among skilled warriors and who stood before him like a hero, ‘Bull among men, you are capable of destroying all the gods in battle, even Indra, with your arrows! What then, of Vālī! Who can face you in combat when you have pierced seven trees and a mountain and the earth with a single arrow? Today my sorrows end and happiness returns, for I have the equal of Indra and Varuṇa as a friend! Gratify me by killing Vālī today, this enemy in the guise of a brother! I beg you, Rāma, with folded hands!’

  Rāma embraced the happy Sugrīva and spoke words that Lakṣmaṇa also agreed with. ‘Let us go to Kiṣkindha! Go ahead of us, Sugrīva, and challenge Vālī, who is your brother in name only, to a fight.’

  Ten

  Swiftly, they all went to Kiṣkindha, Vālī’s city, and stationed themselves in the forest, hiding behind trees. Sugrīva girded his loins and, outside the gates of Kiṣkindha, he let out a mighty roar that pierced the sky, challenging Vālī to fight. Vālī heard his brother and charged out in a rage, red as the sun over the western mountains. A huge and noisy fight ensued between Vālī and Sugrīva, like the clash of Mercury and Mars in the sky. In their fury, both the brothers attacked each other with their fists and feet, hitting one another with the force of thunderbolts.

  His bow at the ready, Rāma watched the two monkeys fighting. They looked exactly like each other, like the aśvins. Rāma could not tell which was Vālī and which Sugrīva, so he held back the arrow that was bound to kill one of them. Worsted in combat, his spirit broken, Sugrīva ran back to the Ṛṣyamūka mountain because he could not see his protector, Rāma, anywhere. Vālī followed him, wounded, tired and covered with blood. But when he saw Sugrīva enter the area where he could not go because of the curse, he shouted, ‘You have escaped this time!’ and went back to Kiṣkindha.

  Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa and Hanumān returned to find Sugrīva, his head hanging low, feeling utterly disgraced. ‘Rāma, you showed me your skills and urged me to challenge Vālī. Then you let me be injured by my enemy! Why did you do this?’ said Sugrīva plaintively, wretched and miserable. ‘If you had made it clear before that you were not going to kill Vālī, I would never have left this place!’

  ‘Listen to me, dear Sugrīva, and do not be angry,’ said Rāma. ‘Listen to why I held back my arrows. You and Vālī are exactly alike. You look like each other, your movements are the same, even your clothes and ornaments do not distinguish you from one another! Monkey, I could not even tell you apart by voice and complexion, nor by your skills, your speech or your personalities. I was thoroughly confused by these resemblances and so I did not release my deadly arrow which would have taken a life. But within the next hour, you shall see Vālī laid low by my arrow, writhing on the ground. Put on something that will distinguish you from him so that I can recognize you when you are fighting. Lakṣmaṇa, take this flowering creeper and place it around Sugrīva’s neck as a garland!’

  Lakṣmaṇa picked up the creeper, abundant with flowers that grew on the hillside, and arranged it around Sugrīva’s neck. The monkey shone with that garland like a cloud in the evening sky. Then he made for Kiṣkindha, reassured by Rāma’s words.

  Once again, they all hid themselves in the trees of the forest. Sugrīva looked around the forest that he loved and worked himself up into a rage. Again he let out a great roar that seemed to pierce the sky and challenged Vālī to fight. Sugrīva blazed like the morning sun and his gait was like a lion’s. He turned to Rāma who was skilled at his task and said, ‘We have arrived at Vālī’s city with its golden arches and flying banners, filled with powerful monkeys. Fulfil the promise that you made earlier, as the season brings the vine to fruit, and kill Vālī!’

  ‘You are wearing the flower garland as a sign. I shall recognize you by that!’ replied Rāma. ‘It makes you shine brightly like the moon with a necklace of stars in the sky! I shall release a single arrow, monkey, that will free you from the fear of your enemy Vālī! As soon as that enemy in the guise of a brother appears, I shall strike him down and he will roll in the dust. If he is still alive after I set eyes on him, Sugrīva, then the fault will be mine and you can criticize me and berate me all you want. I have never told a lie, not even in an adversity, and I never shall, for I cannot bear to violate dharma. Have no doubt, I shall make good my promise, as Indra ripens the crops with timely rains! Challenge Vālī, the wearer of the golden necklace! Raise the cry that will bring out that monkey who is so eager to fight!’

  Golden-yellow Sugrīva let out a harsh cry that seemed to split the sky. It troubled the placid cows, who turned pale like high-born women would at the prospect of violence and anarchy. Deer fled like war horses that have been turned loose on the battlefield. Birds fell out of the sky like heavenly bodies that have exhausted their merit. Sugrīva, son of the Sun, his confidence and strength swelling like the ocean agitated by the winds, yelled with all his might, sounding like thunder from gathering clouds.

  Vālī was in the women’s apartments and he was terribly annoyed with his brother’s yells. The sound which had made all the creatures tremble jogged Vālī out of his intoxication and roused him to anger. His anger distorted him so much that Vālī, who was normally the colour of the evening sun, dimmed like the sun in eclipse. He rushed out of the palace, tearing up the earth with his powerful feet.

  Tārā was very upset and she clung to him and spoke to him affectionately, displaying her concern for his welfare. ‘Throw away this anger, hero, that has come upon you like a river in spate, as one who wakes throws away flowers from the night before! Your rushing off like this makes me uneasy. Listen and I will tell you why I want you to hold back!

  ‘Sugrīva came here once before and challenged you to a fight. You went out in a rage and defeated him and he ran away. The fact that he comes to challenge you again after being wounded in body and spirit makes me suspicious. The arrogance and pride with which he shouts now cannot have a trivial cause. I am sure Sugrīva has come here this time with allies and help. He must have an ally who gives him the confidence to shout like this!

  ‘Sugrīva is intelligent and cunning. He would not have come here without making sure of his ally’s strength. I should also tell you what I heard earlier from prince Angada, hero! I shall repeat it now for your benefit. Your brother’s ally is none other than Rāma, who is ruthless in battle and all-consuming like the doomsday fire! But he is also like the shady tree under which the virtuous can gather. He is the refuge of the oppressed and a worthy heir of fame. You should not seek enmity with him, for he is invincible and unrivalled in battle.

  ‘Listen to me, mighty one, I have to say this to you and you must not be angry. I speak for your benefit. Take my advice. Make Sugrīva your heir apparent without any further delay. You should not have enmity with your brother, great king! Put an end to these hostilities. Earn Sugrīva’s affection and make friends with Rāma! Your brother is younger than you and deserves your love and affection. Even if he is not with you now, he remains your brother wherever he is! If you believe that I have your best interests at heart and if you want to make me happy, then do as I ask!’

  When Tārā with her star-bright face had finished speaking, Vālī brushed aside her advice contemptuously. ‘Why should I listen quietly to my brother shouting like this, especially when he is an enemy!’ he said. ‘For brave men who are undefeated in battle and who never turn and flee from the battlefield, to have to listen to threats like this is worse than death! I cannot tolerate this from Sugrīva! He is eager to fight but soon his neck will be lopped off in battle!’

  ‘Don’t worry about Rāma injuring me. He knows and loves dharma and he is gracious. He would never do anything unethical! Why are you still following me, Tārā? Go back inside with your women. You have amply demonstrated your love and devotion to me! I must go forward and confront Sugrīva. Don’t worry, I will crush his pride but I will spare his life. Promise me that you will go back inside. Wish m
e well and I shall return, having defeated my brother in combat!’ Tārā embraced Vālī, weeping softly. She wished him well and invoked blessings upon him with the appropriate mantras. Then, full of sorrow, she went back into the inner apartments with her women.

  Vālī rushed out of the city, hissing like an angry serpent. Breathing heavily, he looked around for his enemy. Then he saw Sugrīva, shining yellow and golden, blazing like the fire, ready to do battle. Vālī, the mighty one, girded his loins and clenched his fists and advanced towards Sugrīva, eager to fight. Sugrīva raised his fists and came towards Vālī who was wearing his golden necklace. Vālī pounced upon Sugrīva and began to pummel him. Blood poured from Sugrīva’s body like cascades from a mountain but he was undaunted. Enraged, Sugrīva uprooted an enormous sāla tree with all his strength and assaulted Vālī with it, like a thunderbolt striking a mountain. Stunned by the blow, Vālī reeled, as a small boat carrying merchants and their goods is rocked upon the ocean.

  Those mighty monkeys, who had powerful bodies and the speed and strength of Garuḍa, fought each other like the sun and the moon in the sky. Sugrīva began to slow down, his pride crushed by Vālī, and he tried to point Vālī out to Rāma. Rāma picked an arrow that was like a poisonous snake and released it from his bow. It struck Vālī in the chest and he fell to the ground. Drenched with blood and sweat, Indra’s mighty son collapsed, unconscious, on the battlefield, like an aśoka tree felled by the wind or Indra’s toppled flagstaff.

  Eleven

  Vālī lay sprawled on the ground with his golden ornaments like Indra’s fallen banner when the ropes that hold it are severed. And when Vālī, the lord of the monkeys and the bears, lay like that on the ground, the earth’s lustre was dimmed like a moonless sky. But still, Vālī’s personal lustre and majesty did not leave his body, held there by the golden gem-studded necklace that had been given him by Indra. The necklace made him seem like a rain cloud tinged with the light of the setting sun.

  Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa came over and saw that great monkey lying there with his massive arms, his chest as broad as a lion’s and his yellow shining eyes. Vālī looked at Rāma and began to speak righteous words that were harsh and critical, but he spoke them gently.

  ‘What did you gain by shooting me in the back and killing me in this fashion? I was facing away from you and was absorbed in battle with another! You are renowned in the world. All creatures say that you are noble and honourable, that your conduct is impeccable, that you are radiant and compassionate, devoted to the welfare of all beings, resolute in your vows, circumspect, and that you always do the right thing. I knew you had all these great qualities and so, despite Tārā’s advice, I confronted Sugrīva in battle.

  ‘Because I could not see you anywhere, I assumed that you would not attack me when I was fighting Sugrīva. I did not know then that you are, in fact, wicked and unethical, though you pretend to be honourable, like a deep well that is hidden by grass. I could not see the wicked man behind the noble creature, the fire under the ashes. I have never harmed your kingdom or your city. Nor have I ever insulted you. Then why did you do me such grievous harm?

  ‘Why did you do this to me, a harmless monkey who lives in the forest and eats roots and fruits, who had no quarrel with you but was concentrating on fighting with someone else? You are a prince, handsome and distinguished. You carry all the outward signs of dharma. How could someone like you, born a noble kṣatriya, who has all his ethical doubts resolved by the wise, how could you do something so cruel, hidden under the trappings of dharma?

  ‘Truth, patience, courage, the ability to pursue conciliation, generosity and the meting out of punishment are the duties of a king, Rāma! We are but creatures of the forest. We live on roots and fruits, for that is our natural state. But you are human and you are a king. The usual reasons for conquest are land and wealth. What do I have in the forest apart from fruit that you could want so badly? Kings should not live by their whims and do as they please. But you are wilful, quick to anger, and seem to have no fixed views. You do not live by the code of kings and you seem eager to expend your arrows.

  ‘You have killed an innocent creature like me! How will you justify this disgraceful act to good men? My skin cannot be used by men of virtue, my hair and bones are forbidden to them and my flesh cannot be eaten by those who practise dharma. The brahmin and the kṣatriya can eat only five five-toed animals, the rhino, the porcupine, the alligator, the rabbit and the turtle. You have killed me, a five-toed animal, whose skin and bones no virtuous man will touch and whose flesh is forbidden.

  ‘Rāma, if the earth has you as a master, she is as vulnerable as a virtuous woman whose husband is a rake. How could you, so base, mean, deceitful and lying, be a son of Daśaratha’s? If you had fought me face-to-face you would have met the god of death today! You would never have challenged me in battle and yet today I lie dying because of your deceitful arrows, like a sleeping man who has been bitten by a serpent. You killed me to make Sugrīva happy. But if you had come to me first with the same alliance, I would have brought that wicked rākṣasa to you in an instant! If only you had asked me, I would have recovered Sītā from the depths of the ocean or from the bottom of the earth and brought her back to you. It is right that Sugrīva should inherit the kingdom after my death, but it is not right for you to have killed me in this way!’

  His face pale from the pain of his wound, Vālī, the son of Indra, fell silent, looking up at Rāma who shone like the sun. He had spoken harsh words to Rāma which seemed righteous, and were intended for his benefit. Rāma looked at the monkey who was like a dimming sun, a cloud emptied of its rain, a dying fire, and said things that really were filled with dharma and were intended to educate the monkey king.

  ‘Your criticisms of me are childish and immature for you have not truly understood the meaning of dharma, artha, kāma or worldly living. You have never been exposed to the teachings or the wisdom of learned men and yet, you, with your monkey nature, presume to teach me!

  ‘This earth with its mountains and forests belongs to the Ikṣvākus. They have the right to praise or condemn all the birds, beasts and men who inhabit it! It is ruled by the righteous and honourable Bharata. He is learned in the principles of dharma, artha and kāma and he is devoted to justice. We and other kings execute his orders which are rooted in dharma, here and all over the earth so that the eternal dharma may flourish. When the earth is ruled by the righteous and honourable Bharata it is not possible for anyone anywhere to violate dharma and not be punished for it.

  ‘You have transgressed the bounds of dharma. Your conduct is inappropriate because you are ruled entirely by pleasure. You are not fit to be a king! The elder brother and the teacher who imparts knowledge are all regarded as equal to a father by the man who pursues the path of righteousness. A younger brother and a virtuous student are regarded as equal to a son, according to the dictates of dharma.

  ‘Monkey, the dharma followed by truly good men is subtle and hard to understand. How can a fickle creature like you, who learns from other equally fickle monkeys, know anything? Blind men learn nothing from confronting each other! Let me explain things to you. Control yourself and listen to me!

  ‘Here is the first reason for my killing you. You have rejected the eternal dharma and slept with your brother’s wife. You lust for Rūmā and sleep with her even though Sugrīva is still alive. This is unacceptable because you should treat her as a daughter-in-law. I killed you for sleeping with your brother’s wife and because you were motivated by lust! There can be no other punishment for this violation of dharma and of the worldly code. The man who sleeps with his sister, his daughter or his brother’s wife is punished by death according to the traditional texts.

  ‘My friendship with Sugrīva is equal to my love for Lakṣmaṇa. Our pact is that I will restore to him his wife and his kingdom and in return for that, he will devote himself to my interests. I gave him my word on this in front of the other monkeys. How could I then not fulfil my p
romise? It is the duty of a righteous man to help his friend. All the reasons I have given you are rooted in dharma. You have to agree that you have been justly punished! Stop your laments! You were killed because dharma demanded it. We cannot act as we please!

  ‘Traps and ropes and snares of all kinds are used to capture animals. Animals are caught and killed when they are running away, or when they are agitated, even when they have no idea of the danger they are in. Men kill animals for their flesh even when their faces are turned away. There is nothing wrong with that! Royal sages, learned in dharma, go hunting. I killed you with an arrow, monkey. Whether you were in a position to fight back or not is irrelevant, for you are nothing but an animal!

  ‘Dharma is certainly hard to understand. Kings are the source of it, as they are the source of all good things. One should not harm kings, or attack them or criticize them or displease them, for they are gods on earth in the form of men. You are ignorant of these things and that is why you condemn me for following a code that has come down from the time of my forefathers!’

  Vālī began to regret his outburst. ‘What you have said is absolutely true,’ he said with his palms joined. ‘An inferior cannot refute what his superior says. I was careless and wrong when I spoke to you so harshly before. But do not hold it against me, Rāma! You know all there is to know about the goals of life and you are devoted to the well-being of your subjects. You have a clear understanding of cause and effect. I failed in my duties and I violated dharma!’