Rāma’s solemn assurance infused Sugrīva with newfound confidence in Sugrīva, rekindling his spirit and resolve. With deepened reverence, Sugrīva, his devotion taking bold strides, spoke thus:
“O Rāma! I am well aware that your arrows strike unerringly at the vital points, leaving no room for survival. Your wrath, once set into motion, shall manifest in a fiery storm, consuming all in its path until the very world is reduced to ashes—an immutable truth.
Yet before you proceed, allow me to recount the power, blessings, cunning, and habits of Vāli, that you may shape a strategy for his downfall. Each day, before the first rays of dawn, he rises in the auspicious hour and soars over the seas—West, East, South, and North—offering sacred oblations to the Sun God, completing his rituals without weariness. His strength is boundless—he ascends to the mountains, lifting massive boulders with ease, casting them skyward as if they were mere playthings, and catching them flawlessly, returning them to their original places without err. His precision has never faltered.
Vāli has altered the very landscape, moving mountains that obstructed free passage, yet doing so with such mastery that he enhanced nature’s beauty, making the land more habitable for his people. He uproots mighty trees and transplants them deep within the forests, ever testing his own strength. His might is immeasurable, rivaling the power of a thousand elephants. Even the formidable Dundubhi, assuming the guise of a colossal buffalo, dared to challenge him, only to meet a dire fate.
Dundubhi, having received boons yet harboring ill intent, once sought battle with the Lord of the Ocean. The Ocean King, the repository of immeasurable treasures, spoke with wisdom:
‘O demon of great prowess! Your might is vast, yet if you seek a worthy adversary, I shall guide you to one. Deep in the forest dwells the lord of mountains, Himavat, father of the Goddess Pārvatī, consort of Śiva. He is the refuge of sages and the source of sacred rivers and lakes. His power alone may prove a match for you.’
Blinded by arrogance, Dundubhi mistook the Ocean’s words for submission and, propelled by false pride, rushed to Himavat’s abode. There, in his boundless might, he shattered icy peaks, scattering their fragments across the land. Yet the serene Himavat, unshaken in his tranquility, addressed him with grace:
‘O Dundubhi, son of the divine architect Maya! You are not devoid of virtue, and thus, I bid you to depart in peace. I have no skill in warfare, nor do I wish to disturb the balance of nature. Your reckless actions will bring ruin to the world.’
Enraged by this refusal, Dundubhi roared, ‘If you lack the strength to face me, then name one who is my equal!’
With composed wisdom, Himavat replied, ‘O mighty one, there exists a warrior in the forest of Kishkindhā—the great Vāli, son of Indra. His strength is unparalleled, his vigor unyielding. If you truly seek to test your might, then challenge him, for he shall not turn away from battle.’
Hearing of Vāli’s unmatched power, Dundubhi’s pride was wounded, and his rage clouded his judgment. Assuming his formidable buffalo form, he thundered towards the gates of Kishkindhā, his steps causing the earth to tremble. Like a storm-laden cloud, he darkened the skies, uprooting trees and hurling them to the ground, his fury spreading fear among the people.
From his palace emerged Vāli, radiant as the full moon amidst a constellation of celestial nymphs. With measured words, he addressed the intruder:
‘O Dundubhi, why do you stand before my gates and cry out in challenge?’
Provoked by this calm inquiry, the demon scoffed, ‘O warrior, do not feign arrogance in the presence of your women. Face me, if you dare, and prove your strength! But I shall restrain myself for the night. At dawn, bid farewell to your loved ones, bestow gifts upon the worthy, for once we engage in combat, you shall never return.’
Hearing this, Vāli dismissed his women and laughed at the demon’s folly. ‘Do not mistake my patience for fear! If you are not bound by cowardice, let us fight this very moment, for a true warrior does not delay battle.’
Clad in the divine garland gifted by Indra, Vāli seized the buffalo-demon by its horns, hurling him to the ground with earth-shaking force. Then, lifting the demon’s mighty form, he flung him across the land. The beast’s blood, flung afar, defiled the sacred hermitage of Sage Mataṅga.
The sage, perceiving this impurity through his divine vision, uttered a terrible curse: ‘He who has defiled this holy ground shall be shattered to pieces should he ever set foot here again. Let none of his kin linger in this forest, for my curse shall extend to them as well. I have nurtured these trees, flowers, and creatures as my own children—those who desecrate them shall suffer the consequences!’
Terrified, the beings of the land fled, returning to Kishkindhā to inform Vāli of the curse. Vāli, seeking reprieve, approached the sage and pleaded for forgiveness, but Mataṅga, resolute in his wrath, withdrew into his hermitage without a word. From that day forth, Vāli dared not set foot in the region of Mount Rishyamūka. Knowing this, I have made it my sanctuary, for here I remain beyond his reach.
Such is the might of my brother, O Rāma. He once shook the seven Śāla trees until their last leaf and fruit fell—a feat even the gods acknowledge. He has never known defeat. His strength is unparalleled, and it is beyond the power of any mortal to vanquish him. This knowledge compelled me to retreat, taking refuge in this forest, where Hanumān and my loyal warriors stand guard.
Yet, Rāma, while I do not doubt your virtue, I have never witnessed your prowess in battle. My words do not seek to insult, but Vāli’s overwhelming might has long overshadowed my faith. Still, within you burns the fire of divine power, concealed behind a veil of humility. If you would grant me proof of your strength, I shall place my trust in you without hesitation.’
With a knowing smile, Rāma, perceiving Sugrīva’s doubt, resolved to dispel his fear. With but a kick, he sent the remnants of Dundubhi’s corpse flying a hundred miles away. Then, drawing his bow, he loosed but a few arrows, each striking through the seven mighty Śāla trees, shattering the ancient wood that had stood untouched for centuries.
In that instant, Sugrīva’s fears dissolved like mist before the morning sun. Hope surged within him, and with deep reverence, he bowed before Rāma, his voice brimming with gratitude.
‘O Rāma, your brilliance rivals that of the sun, your steadfastness equals the Himalayas, and among beasts, you stand as the lion supreme. Truly, you are the foremost among men, and all my anxieties have vanished like shadows at dawn.’
Thus was the grandeur of divine virtue revealed, where strength bowed not to birth but to righteousness, and the impartial hand of destiny shaped the unfolding events of the universe.
