Weakened in frame, his breath labored yet steady, and with a countenance serene, Vali gazed upon his brother Sugreeva and spoke with gentle warmth:
“Sugreeva, my dear brother, let not the deeds I performed for you weigh upon your heart. The course I followed was not of my choosing but dictated by the compulsion of circumstance. Embrace the days ahead and reap their fruits with courage and wisdom.
Fate, it seems, decreed that we could not both dwell in comfort at the same time. Thus did the bonds of brotherhood between us fray and falter. But now, cast aside all bitterness. Accept the crown of Kishkindha, for the hour of my departure draws near. I ascend to realms higher than this mortal plane.
I renounce all that I have achieved—my strength, my victories, my kingdom, and my fame. None could defeat me by their own might, yet here I lie, surrendering all. O valiant king, I implore you—heed my final plea. This young boy, Angada, is dearer to me than life itself. He has known only comfort, untouched by hardship, and now lies helpless, his tears a testament to his grief.
Promise me, Sugreeva, to cherish him as I have done. Let him never feel the absence of his father. In your care, may he find not just a protector but a father, a brother, and a sovereign. Raise him strong and unwavering, for he shall stand by your side in your battles against the demons that threaten our world.
Angada, son of Tara, is swift and mighty. Under your guidance, he shall equal my strength and renown, ever loyal in your cause. And Tara, wise daughter of Sushena, possesses a mind sharp enough to untangle the knottiest dilemmas. In times of peril, her counsel will guide you to safety. Trust in her judgment, for once convinced, she stands firm and unwavering.
Above all, fulfill your vows to Rama without hesitation or doubt. To falter in this duty would be to court ruin. Neglect your promise, and you shall incur not only Rama’s wrath but his righteous retribution, for he is a man of unwavering word and deed. Beware, Sugreeva, and act with the utmost caution in this regard.
Take now this divine garland. While I live, it bears sacred power. But once I am gone, its divinity will depart, and it shall become naught but a string of golden beads.”
Sugreeva, moved by his brother’s earnest entreaty, accepted both the garland and Vali’s words with a heart unburdened by pride or lingering enmity. With a spirit sincere and true, he replied:
“I shall honor your command, my brother.”
Hearing this, Vali, now content, took Angada’s hand and spoke with a father’s final wisdom:
“From this day forth, my son, temper your spirit with patience. The wheel of time turns, bringing both joy and sorrow—bear them both with fortitude. Obey your uncle, King Sugreeva, as you would obey me. I have indulged you in your ways, but with Sugreeva, you must temper your actions. Align yourself with his cause, and count his enemies as your own. Shun those who oppose him and keep a watchful distance from those indifferent to his reign. Be neither too close nor too distant to any, for balance is the key to wisdom.
Avoid entanglements of love or hate, for both cloud the judgment. Maintain equilibrium between your duties and personal bonds. Swear this to me, my son.”
With Angada’s promise secured, Vali, his heart at peace, ascended to the heavens, leaving a kingdom shrouded in sorrow. The people of Kishkindha mourned their mighty king, recalling his valorous deeds and indomitable spirit.
“When Vali took to the skies, a carpet of flowers seemed to follow in his wake, as though the very earth mourned his loss. They spoke of his fifteen-year struggle against the Gandharva Golaka, a battle he waged tirelessly until, in the sixteenth year, he triumphed, securing the safety and dignity of his people. Who, now, could ever replace such a hero?”
As his body lay still, Tara approached, her voice a blend of grief and reproach:
“O mighty king, had you heeded my counsel, you would not now lie upon this cold, indifferent ground. But perhaps it is the nature of Earth’s own son to find rest upon her bosom. Ever were you drawn to perilous adventures, and now fate, in its cruel irony, has seen Sugreeva victorious over you.
Do you hear me, Vali? Do you see Angada, our son, bereft of your guiding hand? You vanquished many foes, claiming fate was not with them—yet now, it has forsaken you. Warriors from distant lands once awaited your command, and your ties to your people were forged in strength and loyalty. But I am now condemned to live without you.
O Angada, behold your father’s final moments. His downfall came not from the strength of his enemies but from the bitterness of enmity and the recklessness of vengeance. Let his fate be a lesson to you. Shun hatred and heed wise counsel, lest you, too, walk a path of ruin.
Pray to your father for the gift of balance and wisdom. His blessings will shield you throughout your life. The battle with Rama was but a ritual, a prelude to his ascension. Even in death, his brilliance lingers, undimmed, his soul now part of the celestial realm. Circumambulate him and seek his guidance for a life governed by thought and reason.”
Thus, Tara’s lament echoed through the hearts of all who gathered, her sorrow a poignant reminder of the fragile line between valor and folly.
Rama, witnessing her despair, prepared to offer solace, his intent to restore balance and heal the rift that fate had woven. The saga of Vali’s fall became a testament to the virtues of tolerance, faith, resilience, and patience—lessons not only for kings but for all who sought to govern their lives with wisdom.
Though the events unfolded swiftly, they served the grand design, balancing the cosmic order with meticulous precision.
