Gathered before the attentive and silent assembly of monkeys, Sampati, the noble vulture, began to speak, his voice steady with the weight of truth. “Listen to me,” he said, “and I will tell you all that I know about Maithilī, Sītā.” He recalled, “Long ago, O sinless ones, I fell upon the peak of this Vindhya mountain. My body was tormented by the fierce heat, scorched by the unrelenting rays of the sun. For six nights I lay there unconscious, and when I finally awoke, weak and disoriented, I gazed around in all directions, unable to recognize anything I saw. “But slowly, as I observed the vast oceans, the towering mountains, the flowing rivers, tranquil lakes, dense forests, and distant regions, my understanding returned to me. I realized: this was indeed the Vindhya, with its many peaks and hidden caves, alive with the joyous cries of birds, resting on the southern shore of the great ocean. “Here, there once stood a sacred hermitage, revered even by the gods themselves. In that holy place dwelled a sage named Nishakara, who practiced severe austerities for eight thousand years on this very mountain. After the righteous Nishakara ascended to heaven, I, with great difficulty, descended from the summit of Vindhya. My journey was slow and painful, for the earth was covered in sharp darbha grass. “Longing to see the sage, I came here, troubled and weary. Both Jatāyu, my brother, and I had often approached him in the past. Near his hermitage, fragrant winds always blew, and every tree was adorned with flowers and fruit; none stood barren. “As I neared the sacred dwelling, I took shelter at the root of a tree, waiting and hoping to see the venerable Nishakara. Soon, I beheld him from afar, radiant with spiritual splendor, having just completed his ritual ablutions and facing north as he returned. Around him gathered bears, hyenas, tigers, lions, and many reptiles, drawn to him as living beings are drawn to a giver of life. “When the sage arrived, those creatures respectfully withdrew, just as royal ministers withdraw when the king enters. The sage, seeing me, was pleased and entered his hermitage. After a short while, he emerged and kindly inquired about my purpose. “‘Gentle one,’ he said, ‘judging by the state of your feathers, your wings have been scorched by fire, and your life itself clings to your body only with great difficulty. I have seen two vultures before—swift as the wind, kings among your kind, brothers, capable of assuming any form at will. You are the elder, Sampati, and Jatāyu is your younger brother. Assume a human form and come, take refuge at my feet. Tell me, what has caused your suffering? How did you lose your wings? Who has inflicted this hardship upon you? Speak openly to me.’ “Thus, O listeners, I recounted to the sage all that had happened, including the fateful pursuit of the sun. ‘O venerable one,’ I said, ‘wounded and ashamed, my senses shaken and exhausted, I am barely able to speak. “‘Jatāyu and I, overcome by pride and rivalry, once leapt into the sky to test our strength. On the summit of Mount Kailāsa, in the presence of sages, we wagered to follow the sun until it reached the great mountain at sunset. As we soared together, we saw below us many cities, each as round as a chariot wheel, each distinct. In some places, we heard the melodies of musical instruments and the jingling of ornaments. We saw women in red garments, singing as they moved. “‘Rising higher, we reached the path of the sun itself. From there, we gazed down upon forests lush with green meadows. The earth below seemed covered with rocky peaks, encircled by rivers like threads woven around a cloth. The Himalaya, the Vindhya, and the great Meru mountains shone forth, like mighty serpents in a pool. “‘But then, intense sweat, exhaustion, and fear overtook us both. Confused and terrified, we fainted. We could no longer tell south from southeast or west. The world seemed to dissolve, as if at the end of an age, consumed by fire. “‘My mind faltered, my vision dimmed, but with great effort I steadied myself. I looked again at the sun, and to us, it seemed as large as the earth itself. Without a word, Jatāyu fell to the earth. Seeing him plummet from the sky, I too let myself fall. Jatāyu, shielded by my wings, was spared the burning, but I, careless, was scorched and fell from the path of the wind. “‘I believe Jatāyu landed in Janasthāna, but I myself fell upon the Vindhya, my wings burned, my body paralyzed. Bereft of my kingdom, my brother, and the strength of my wings, I resolved to end my life and cast myself from the mountain peak.’ Having spoken thus to the great sage, I, Sampati, was overcome with affliction. The wind-god, deeply moved, meditated for a moment and then addressed me with compassion: ‘Your wings, and even your auxiliary wings, will be restored anew. Your sight, your life-breath, your prowess, and your strength shall all return.’ Thus, Sampati’s tale, woven with sorrow and hope, was revealed to the monkeys, a story of pride, loss, and the promise of renewal.