With the loss of Jaṭāyu and King Daśaratha, and the abduction of Vaidehī—Sītā—the hearts of the monkey warriors were cast into deep uncertainty. They reflected on all that had transpired: how Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, obeying their father’s command, had taken up residence in the forest with Sītā; how Rāghava’s arrow had struck down the mighty Vāli; how, driven by wrath, Rāma had destroyed many Rākṣasas; and how the course of fate had been distorted by the boons granted to Kaikeyī. As these painful thoughts were spoken aloud, the monkeys, overwhelmed by sorrow, fell to the ground. The great king of vultures, his mind deeply agitated, uttered pitiful words, his heart heavy with grief. When he heard these words spoken by Aṅgada, the sharp-beaked, loud-voiced vulture asked, “Who is this who tells of the death of my brother Jaṭāyu, dearer to me than life itself, shaking my heart so? How did the battle at Janasthāna unfold between the Rākṣasa and the vulture? Only today, after so long, have I heard my brother’s name again.” He continued, “You, who are younger and virtuous, praised for your valor—bring me down from this mountain. After such a long time, I am satisfied to hear this tale; O best of monkeys, I wish to know the details of my brother’s end. Tell me of Jaṭāyu, who lived at Janasthāna, and of his friend Daśaratha—how fares he? For whom Rāma, the beloved eldest son, is so precious to his elders. My wings are scorched by the sun’s rays and I cannot fly; I beg you, O destroyers of foes, help me descend from this mountain.” At this, the fifty-seventh chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa, begins. Hearing the vulture’s voice, broken by grief, the leaders of the monkey troops became suspicious. They doubted his words, wary of his intentions. As they sat down to fast, the monkeys eyed the vulture with grim resolve, whispering among themselves, “He will devour us all. If, as we fast, he does not eat us, then our task will be accomplished, and we will quickly attain success from here.” Thus, the monkey chiefs made their decision. Then Aṅgada, having descended from the mountain peak, addressed the vulture: “O bird, there was once a powerful monkey king named Riksharāja, my noble ancestor. His two sons, Sugrīva and Vāli, were both righteous and mighty. Vāli, my father, became renowned throughout the world for his deeds. “The great king of the Ikṣvāku line, Rāma, son of Daśaratha, entered the Daṇḍaka forest with his brother Lakṣmaṇa and his wife Sītā, devoted to his father’s command and the path of righteousness. Sītā was seized by Rāvaṇa from Janasthāna. Rāma’s father’s friend was the king of vultures named Jaṭāyu. “Jaṭāyu saw Sītā, the daughter of Videha, being carried away through the sky. He forced Rāvaṇa to lose his chariot and set Maithilī down, but weary and old, Jaṭāyu was slain in battle by Rāvaṇa. Thus, the vulture was killed by the powerful Rāvaṇa; honored by Rāma, he attained the highest state. “Afterward, Rāma befriended my uncle Sugrīva, the great-souled one, and killed my father Vāli, who had confined Sugrīva and his counselors. Sugrīva was then installed as king by Rāma and became lord of the monkeys. By his command, we chief monkeys were sent out to search for Sītā. “We searched everywhere, but could not find her, as one cannot see the sun’s rays at night. We scoured the Daṇḍaka forest, but unknowingly entered a cave opened in the earth, created by Maya’s magic. There, the month allotted by the king passed away. Now, having exceeded the set time, we are fasting here, out of fear of Sugrīva, Rāma, and Lakṣmaṇa. If they are angered, there is no hope of life for us.” Here begins the fifty-eighth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Hearing these sorrowful words from the monkeys, who had given up hope of life, the vulture, his voice resounding and eyes filled with tears, replied, “O monkeys, my younger brother was Jaṭāyu, whom you say was slain in battle by the mighty Rāvaṇa. Because of old age and the loss of my wings, I endure even hearing of that, for I have no strength today to avenge my brother’s enmity. “Long ago, after the slaying of Vṛtra, both Jaṭāyu and I, desiring victory, soared toward the blazing sun, adorned with rays. We sped through the sky, but when we reached the sun’s midpoint, Jaṭāyu began to falter, scorched by the sun’s rays. Overwhelmed with affection, I shielded him with my wings, but my own wings burned and I fell upon the Vindhya mountains. Living here, I have learned nothing of my brother until now.” Thus did Sampāti, brother of Jaṭāyu, share his story with the monkeys, and as he spoke, the wise prince Aṅgada replied.