Tārā, with her star-bright face, embraced her husband’s body. ‘Oh great hero, so ruthless in battle, why do you not speak to me? I stand here before you, utterly wretched! Stand up, tiger among monkeys, and come back to your soft bed. The ground is not an appropriate place for a king like you! Ah! my heart must be hard indeed that it does not shatter into a thousand pieces when I see you dead on the ground! You exiled Sugrīva and took his wife. Now you are paying the price for that!
‘But Rāma, who did this terrible thing, killing Vālī while he was fighting another, feels no remorse! And I, who have never known any sorrow, shall burn in the fires of my grief as a widow with no one to protect me. What about my son Angada? He has been raised in the lap of luxury and has known only happiness! How will he live with an uncle who is a slave to anger?
‘My son, take a good look at your father, who loved dharma, for you shall not see him again. Reassure your son and give him some final advice. Kiss him on the forehead, for you have embarked on your final journey! Rāma did a great thing by killing you and paying off his debt to Sugrīva. You have got what you wanted, Sugrīva, you have Rūmā back. Enjoy your kingship, for your brother who was your enemy is now dead! Why do you not speak to me even as I babble on with love as I weep? Look at all your lovely wives, king of the monkeys!’
Seeing Tārā’s distress, all the other female monkeys clung to Angada and began to wail.
Vālī was now breathing with difficulty and his life was ebbing fast. He looked around him and saw Sugrīva standing in front of Angada. ‘Sugrīva, do not hold a grudge against me for what I have done!’ he said affectionately to the victorious king of the monkeys. ‘I did it because my mind was confounded by fate and there is no resisting that! I can only think that we were not destined to enjoy kingship and brotherly love at the same time! Today, you shall take over as the king of the monkeys and I shall go to the abode of death.
‘Look at Angada, lying on the ground and weeping! He is still a boy but he is no fool! He has grown up without any hardships and he deserves all happiness. He is dearer to me than life, this son of mine. Look after him as your own and protect his interests at all times. Be his protector and benefactor in times of trouble, as I have been. Tārā’s son is equal to you in strength and courage and he will be in he forefront of the battle with the rākṣasas. He is young but his performance in battle will be worthy of him in every way.
‘Tārā, the daughter of Suṣeṇa, is intelligent and understands the subtleties and nuances of every situation. She can see danger and prepares for it. You should follow her advice without hesitation. Her judgement is flawless and she is never wrong. Do Rāma’s work without thinking twice. To not do so would be unrighteous. But do not slight him for he will punish you! Take this celestial golden necklace, Sugrīva. I will not need its glory when I am dead!’
Sugrīva’s elation vanished before Vālī’s affection like a moon under an eclipse, and he began to feel wretched and sad. His resentment disappeared and eager to follow Vālī’s instructions, he stepped forward to receive the necklace. Vālī was ready to give up his life, but then his eye fell on his son.
‘Receive the good and the bad with equanimity,’ he said lovingly. ‘Learn to understand what is appropriate for time and place and always listen to Sugrīva. Do not ally yourself with his enemies or those that oppose him. Be restrained. Devote yourself to your king and obey his orders at all times!’
Vālī’s eyes rolled upwards, and baring his teeth in a grimace of pain, he fell back, dead. His subjects were distracted and confused like cows in a forest frequented by lions, when the leader of the herd dies. Tārā was plunged into an ocean of grief as she gazed at her husband’s lifeless face. She threw herself on the ground beside Vālī like a creeper entwined around a tree that has been cut down.
‘You would not listen to me and now you lie here on this hard, bare ground, covered with stones!’ wept Tārā as she kissed Vālī’s dead face. ‘The earth must be dearer to you than I am for you lie here in her embrace and you do not even speak to me! You lie on a hero’s bed on this battlefield, where you yourself killed so many enemies in the past!
‘Ah! my hero, so eager to fight! Your bloodlines were pure and noble! You looked after me so well, and now you have left me unprotected! No thinking man should ever marry his daughter to a valiant warrior. Look at me, widowed and destroyed in an instant! A woman without a husband is considered vulnerable, no matter how many children she has, or how much wealth or how much grain!
‘You lie in a pool of your own blood, as you used ṭo lie in your bed with its blood-red quilt! Your body is covered with dust and blood but I cannot hold it in my arms. Sugrīva gained his objectives with a single arrow. Rāma liberated him from this deadly enmity as well as from the fear that shadowed him. I can only look at your dead face. I cannot even hold you because of the arrow that sticks out of your heart!’
Nīla pulled the arrow out of Vālī’s body and it emerged like a poisonous snake that had hidden in a rocky crevice. It shone like the sun as it sets behind the mountains and blood poured forth from Vālī’s many wounds like mountain waterfalls carrying coppery ore. Tārā wiped the dust from the battlefield off her husband’s body and bathed him with her tears.
‘Excess grief is of no help to the dead,’ said Rāma practically to Sugrīva when he noticed that all life had left Vālī’s body. ‘You must now get on with the task at hand. You have shed enough tears, now do what is required for worldly life. Everything has its proper time and place.’
Lakṣmaṇa organised Vālī’s cremation and helped Sugrīva perform the last rites for the king of the monkeys. Then Hanumān, the son of the Wind, his face shining like the rising sun, joined his palms and said to Rāma, ‘Thanks to you, Sugrīva has gained the lordship of the monkeys, which is hard to obtain and which has come down from his forefathers. With your permission, he would like to enter the city and begin the tasks of administration in consultation with his supporters. Come with us to our beautiful city set in a hollow of the hills! Accept our loyalty and make us all happy!’
‘Hanumān, by the orders of my father, I am pledged not to enter a city or a village for fourteen years. But let Sugrīva enter his city and be crowned king of the monkeys without any further delay,’ said Rāma. Then he turned to Sugrīva. ‘Anoint Angada your heir!
‘This is the first month of the rainy season which will last for four months. The rains are heavy and this is not the right time for us to start on our expedition. Go into your city and Lakṣmaṇa and I will live here on this mountain. The cave is large and pleasant and the area abounds in water and lotus ponds. We shall start on our journey to kill Rāvaṇa in the month of Kārtik. Now that we have agreed on this, go back and crown yourself among your friends and well-wishers and give them cause to celebrate.’
Sugrīva returned to the city of Kiṣkindha which had been under Vālī’s protection and thousands of monkeys surrounded him and greeted him joyfully. All kinds of monkeys, from the common and ordinary to the noble and high-born, bowed low and prostrated themselves at his feet. Valiant Sugrīva spoke to them all kindly and raised them up from the ground and then he entered his brother’s beautiful palace. When he emerged, his friends and supporters crowned him the way Indra had been crowned by the gods.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Meanwhile, Rāma went with Lakṣmaṇa to Mount Prasravaṇa, which was full of deer and tigers and fierce, roaring lions. It was heavily wooded and thick creepers covered the trees and bushes. Bears, different kinds of monkeys and wild cats also lived on this mountain where fresh, clear water was plentiful, and which was as huge as a bank of clouds.
Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa settled in a long, wide cave at the top of the mountain. But though they lived on such a pleasant and bounteous mountain, Rāma was not happy. He thought constantly about his abducted wife who was dearer to him than life. He would lie down every night, but the be
auty of his surroundings made it impossible for him to sleep. Never really free from sadness, Rāma would find his eyes brimming with tears at times like this. But his brother, who was equally unhappy, would plead with him.
‘You must stop grieving like this! It does not become you. You know all is lost when you succumb to grief! You believe in destiny, in the value of human effort, and you also believe in the gods. You are righteous and enterprising. You cannot overcome your enemy if you do not pull yourself together. Especially since he is a rākṣasa who uses unfair tactics in battle. Pull out your sorrow from its roots and then you will be able to destroy the roots and the branches of the rākṣasa’s tree with a sincere effort! You can turn the world with its forests and oceans and mountains upside down! What of Rāvaṇa? I am only trying to rouse the valour that sleeps inside you with my words, like a fire is raised from smouldering ashes when oblations are added at the right time!’
Rāma considered Lakṣmaṇa’s sound advice which was intended for his benefit. ‘Ah, Lakṣmaṇa! You have spoken sweetly to me, brave words that are imbued with love and intended for my welfare,’ he said affectionately. ‘I shall cast off my grief and revive the spirit that makes me triumph against all odds. We are in the middle of the rains now so I shall wait for the autumn. Then I shall destroy the rākṣasa along with his forces and his kingdom!’
One day, Rāma said, ‘The rainy season has begun. Look at the sky covered with mountainous clouds! It is as if the sky drank the ocean’s essence through the rays of the sun and after holding it in her womb for nine months, now puts it forth! You feel as if you could climb to the sky on this ladder of clouds and place a garland of flowers around the sun. The sky is like a pining lover, the gentle breeze his sighs, the evening clouds the sandalpaste upon his chest, the white clouds the pallor of his face.
‘The earth parched by the summer heat and now flooded with water reminds me of Sītā shedding tears after being scorched by her grief. The mountain covered with flowers is drenched by the rains as Sugrīva was drenched in auspicious liquids when he was anointed king. The sky, struck with lightning’s golden whip, cries out in pain in a rumble of thunder. And the lightning flashing across the dark clouds makes me think of Sītā writhing in Rāvana’s dark arms!
‘Look at the flowers on the hillside, Lakṣmaṇa! They rejoice in the fresh rainwater and make me think of love, even though I am so depressed. The dust has settled, the breezes have cooled and the discomforts of summer have passed. Kings have stopped their expeditions and all the travellers have returned home. Streams flow swift and sure, tinted red with the ores in the mountain soils. They carry flowers with them and peacocks call from their banks.
‘Clouds as big as mountains, which have lightning as their banners and flocks of cranes as their garlands, rumble like rutting elephants on a battlefield. Cranes are drawn to the clouds by desire and fly around them in formation, like a garland of white lotuses that streams in the wind across the sky. Sleep comes as slowly as a river moving to the ocean, but the crane rushes to the cloud and the woman runs to her lover.
‘Elephants enjoy themselves inhaling the fresh fragrance of flowers. Excited by the sounds of waterfalls, they trumpet in time with the peacocks’ calls. An elephant walks along familiar paths in the hills and hearing the rumble of distant thunder he thinks it is a rival elephant trumpeting and turns back, eager to fight. Birds of many colours, anxious to quench their parched throats, drink the drops of water that hang like crystals on the leaves and have been sent to them by the lord of the forests.
‘This is the month in which the brahmins of the Sāma Veda begin their studies in the correct modes of chanting. Bharata, king of Kosalā, must have finished with his administrative activities and should be starting on the vows and rituals for the month of Aṣādha. The river Sarayū must be swelling with water the way the noise will swell when I return to Ayodhyā.
‘Sugrīva has defeated his enemy and regained his kingdom and his wife. He must be enjoying these torrential rains. But I have lost my wife and my kingdom, Lakṣmaṇa, and I suffer like the banks of a river which are being slowly eroded. My grief is boundless, the rains seem endless and Rāvaṇa is a deadly enemy! How will I ever overcome all this, Lakṣmaṇa?
‘I did not suggest that we start on our enterprise, even though Sugrīva would have been amenable, because I knew that the roads would be impassable and that travelling would be dangerous. Besides that, Sugrīva has suffered and been separated from his women for a long time. My mission is very important, but I did not want to start on it then. When he has rested and recovered, I am sure Sugrīva himself will remember that the time has come to start. I have no doubt that he will remember his debt to me.
‘So I wait for that time, the time when Sugrīva and the rivers will be gracious to me! A good man always returns the favour done to him!’
‘The king of the monkeys will soon do as he promised,’ said Lakṣmaṇa. ‘Wait patiently for the rains to end and autumn to begin. Stay firm in your resolve to destroy the enemy!’
After four months, the sky was clear of clouds and lightning. It was filled, instead, with the sounds of cranes and was bathed in a gentle moonlight. Sugrīva had achieved his ends and seemed disinclined towards the path of righteousness. He was obsessed with the gratification of his senses. He turned away from all his official duties and spent his time indulging all his pleasures. Not only had his own wife been restored to him, he now had Tārā as well and he had always desired her. He spent all day and all night enjoying himself with them, with not a care in the world. Sugrīva played all day like the gods with the apsarases in Nandana. He had handed over all the affairs of the state to his ministers and did not even bother to supervise them.
Hanumān knew what was appropriate for time and place, he knew dharma and he understood the need of the hour. He approached Sugrīva with sweet words and gentle talk to put him in a good mood. Then he spoke to him about his duties, about conciliation and the return of favours.
‘You have regained your kingdom and with that you have acquired fame and fortune. Gaining friendships is all that is left and you should attend to that now. He who stands by his friends at the appropriate time augments his own fame, his kingdom and his strength. You have always held to the traditional code of conduct. You should see to the fulfilment of your friend’s goals as you had promised. He who fails to help his friend at the right time will never gain his specific goal, however hard he tries and whatever else he gains.
‘Let us start on Rāma’s venture and begin the search for Sītā. It is long overdue! Rāma knows the appropriate time for action and he knows that the moment for beginning the search is passing. But he will not remind you of this because he expects you to remember it yourself. Mighty Rāma is your well-wisher and he supports your entire clan. His skills and strength are immeasurable and his virtues unrivalled. He did what you wanted. Now you should do what he wants. Get the best of the monkeys started on his task.
‘King of the monkeys, you help even those who do nothing for you. You must help the one who has helped you regain your kingdom and your wealth. You are strong and powerful and can do what will please Rāma. Why do you delay? Rāma can subdue the gods, the asuras and the uragas with his arrows, but he looks to you and your promise to help him with his task. He helped you at the risk of his life. Let us begin searching the earth and the heavens for Sītā. Not the gods nor the gandharvas, the asuras, yakṣas or the troops of māruts hold any fear for Rāma, what then is a mere rākṣasa? King of the monkeys, we would go anywhere, to the forests, waters or the sky, at your command! There are hundreds of thousands of monkeys, strong and powerful, who will do anything you ask!’
Now that he had been reminded of his duty at the appropriate time, the virtuous Sugrīva made a decision. He summoned Nīla and instructed him to call in all the monkeys from all directions. ‘Tell the army commanders and their forces to assemble here immediately. Call in even
the swift and brave monkeys who guard the borders of the kingdom. See to it personally that my orders are carried out. Any monkey who is not here within fifteen days shall be punished with death, let there be no doubt about this!’ Once he had given these instructions, Sugrīva retired to the inner apartments again.
Meanwhile, Rāma had lived through the rainy season and was now tormented with grief. He gazed in anguish at the clear sky and the white orb of the moon. On those autumn nights bathed in moonlight, he thought about Sugrīva who had attained his ends and about Sītā’s absence. He saw that the time he and Sugrīva had agreed upon had passed. But he controlled his anger and, sitting on top of that mountain streaked with metallic ores, his thoughts turned to Sītā.
‘Ah! My beloved! Her voice was as sweet as a bird’s! How can she rejoice in birdsong now as she used to in our forest hut? How can she enjoy these golden flowering bushes like she used to when I was by her side? How must she feel now when she hears birds calling to their mates? I feel no joy in wandering through the woods with their streams and pools without doe-eyed Sītā by my side!’ cried Rāma, lord of all men, lamenting like the cātaka bird begging the gods for water.
Lakṣmaṇa came home from a pleasant walk on the hillside to collect fruit and found Rāma in this state. Seeing that his brother was consumed by grief and was sitting despondent in a lonely place, valiant Lakṣmaṇa said, ‘Why have you succumbed to the pain of separation and longing and allowed your manly spirit to be sapped? You must be firm and resolute and not fritter away your energies. If you are going to achieve your purpose, you must be active, you must concentrate your mind. Display your courage and utilize the strengths of your allies. Sītā cannot be so easily snatched away when she has you as a protector. How can one touch a flame and not be burned?’
Valmiki's Ramayana Page 34