with me.”
Sita grew desperate and burst into tears. Jatayu said, “Don’t fear. No harm will come to you. This demon will be destroyed by me. You don’t have to worry about it at all”—and began his attack. The flapping of his enormous wings created the power of a storm, which shook and paralysed both Ravana and his chariot; then he hit and tore with his whole body, beak, and claws, with such force that Ravana’s ensign with the symbol of a veena9 was torn and the flagstaff was in fragments, his crowns were knocked off and fell to the ground, his royal canopy was in tatters, and the chariot was smashed. Ravana parried and hit and used all the weapons in his command, but Jatayu kept up an unrelenting offensive.
Ravana tried to spare Jatayu up to a point. His anger finally rose and he took a special sword (an infallible one gifted to him by Shiva) called “Chandrahasa” and with a couple of flourishes and swings dealt a final blow to Jatayu, lopped off his gigantic wings, and pierced his throat. After Jatayu fell, Ravana picked himself up, abandoned his chariot, placed Sita on his shoulder with the piece of ground beneath her and, exercising his power to fly in the air, carried her off to Lanka.
Meanwhile Jatayu, with an effort of will, kept himself alive until Rama and Lakshmana, searching for Sita, came that way. With his dying breath, Jatayu gave an account of what he had witnessed and said, “Do not despair. You will succeed in the end.” Rama anxiously asked, “In which direction did they go?” But Jatayu was dead before he could answer.
6
VALI
The perfect man takes a false step, apparently commits a moral slip, and we ordinary mortals stand puzzled before the incident. It may be less an actual error of commission on his part than a lack of understanding on ours; measured in Eternity, such an event might stand out differently. But until we attain that breadth of view, we are likely to feel disturbed and question the action. Rama was an ideal man, all his faculties in control in any circumstances, one possessed of an unwavering sense of justice and fair play. Yet he once acted, as it seemed, out of partiality, half-knowledge, and haste, and shot and destroyed, from hiding, a creature who had done him no harm, not even seen him. This is one of the most controversial chapters in the Ramayana.
The characters in the drama that follows are Vali, Sugreeva, Hanuman, and Rama. The action takes place in the mountainous forest regions of Kiskinda, a kingdom ruled and inhabited by monkeys. In the Ramayana, the participants are not only human beings but many others from God’s creation, intelligent, cultured, and with their own achievements of spirit as well as physique: Jambavan was a bear, Jatayu was an eagle, Lakshmana—Rama’s brother—was himself a human incarnation of the Great Serpent Adisesha in whose coils Vishnu rested. Whatever might be the form and shape, when they spoke and acted, their physical appearance passed unnoticed.
Kiskinda was peopled and ruled by what might broadly speaking be named a monkey race; but they were beings endowed with extraordinary intelligence, speech, immeasurable strength and nobility, and were of godly parentage too.
Rama, in his desperate quest of Sita, was journeying southwards and crossed the frontiers of Kiskinda. Although he was an incarnation of Vishnu, the Supreme God, in human form, as we have seen, he was subject to human limitations of understanding and the despairs arising therefrom. Following Sita’s trail by hearsay and hints, he and Lakshmana arrived on the frontiers of Kiskinda. Their entry was not unobserved. The companion and helper of Sugreeva, ruler of the monkey clan, was Hanuman, who will later take his place in the Ramayana as a major character. Hanuman, watching for intruders, noticed Rama and Lakshmana far off on the mountain path. Assuming the shape of a young scholar, he went down and remained hidden behind a tree on their path. When they approached, he observed them closely and reflected within himself. “So noble-looking! Who are they? They are clad in tree bark, hair matted and knotted, ascetics. But they bear enormous bows on their shoulders. Ascetics armed like warriors or warriors clothed in ascetics’ robes? But they still look like—like whom? They appear to be incomparable beings. No way of judging by comparison. Are they gods?—but they look so human.” Hanuman, unable to contain himself, stepped up before them and announced, “I am the son of Vayu and Anjana. I am called Anjaneya (or Hanuman), I am in the service of my chief, Sugreeva, who is the son of the sun god. I welcome you to our kingdom on his behalf.”
Rama whispered to his brother, “Don’t be misled by his appearance. He looks like a youthful scholar, but he must be possessed of great powers!” And then he said, “Please guide us to your chief.”
Now Hanuman asked, “Whom shall I have the honour of announcing?” While Rama paused, Lakshmana stepped in to say, “We are the sons of Dasaratha, the late King of Ayodhya.” He narrated briefly their history and explained why they were here rather than at the palace in the capital city. On hearing the story, Anjaneya prostrated himself at the feet of Rama. Rama said, “No, you are a man of learning and I am only a warrior and you should not touch my feet,” whereupon Hanuman (or Anjaneya) said, “I assumed the scholar’s form only for the purpose of coming before you,” and resumed his real stature and the form of a giant monkey. He then left them, to return later accompanied by Sugreeva.
Rama, at the first sight of Sugreeva, felt an instinctive compassion and also felt that this was a momentous encounter, a turning point in his own life. Sugreeva, sensing his sympathetic attitude, seized this occasion to mention his difficulties in a general way. “Through no fault of mine, I suffer exile and privations.”
“Have you lost your home and are you separated from your wife?” When this question was asked, Sugreeva, too overwhelmed to speak, remained silent. Whereupon Hanuman stood up and told his story.
SUGREEVA’S STORY
Blessed by the grace of Shiva, there is one who possesses unlimited strength and his name is Vali, the brother of Sugreeva here. In ancient times, when the gods and demons tried to churn the ocean to obtain nectar, using Mount Meru as a churning rod, they were unable to move the churner. Vali, on an appeal by the gods, pushed aside everyone and turned the churner until nectar was obtained, which the gods consumed and which gave them freedom from death. For this service Vali was rewarded with immeasurable strength. He has more energy than the five elements in nature and at one stride could cross the seven oceans and reach the mountain Charuvala, beyond all the seas. Also he was blessed with this peculiar favour. Whoever approached him for a fight lost half his strength to Vali, who thus enhanced his own fighting powers.
Every day Vali visited all the eight directions, worshipped Shiva in all his aspects. When he moved, he was faster than a storm. No lance could pierce his chest. When he strode across the earth the mountains shook, and the storm clouds parted and dissipated themselves at his approach, afraid to precipitate rain. All nature feared him. Even Yama was afraid to approach where he and his armies camped. Thunder softened its voice, and lions and other wild animals refrained from roaring in his presence, and even the wind was afraid to shake down the leaves of trees. The ten-headed Ravana he once just pushed aside and tucked up in his tail.
Vali is elder to Sugreeva, possesses the resplendence and the cool complexion of the full moon. He is supreme and enforces his authority unquestioned like Yama himself. He was our King and Sugreeva was his next in authority. We were all happy under his rule. Then, as if to destroy the harmony of our whole existence, a demon called Mayavi—with protruding fangs and odious features—appeared in our midst and challenged Vali. The moment Vali
