Vali, the mighty lord of the monkeys and all forest-dwellers, addressed Dundubhi with calm, measured words that left no room for misunderstanding. “Why do you block the city gate and roar so loudly, Dundubhi?” Vali asked, his voice steady. “I know who you are—protect your life, O mighty one.” Dundubhi, his eyes blazing red with anger at the words of the wise monkey king, replied fiercely. “O hero, it is not fitting for you to speak before women; grant me battle today, and then I will know your true strength. Or, if you prefer, I will restrain my anger for tonight. Let your celebration go on undisturbed, O monkey—enjoy your pleasures as you wish. Let gifts be given and distributed, embrace your followers, and as lord of all the forest-dwellers, bring joy to your friends. Guard Kishkindha well, hold your city as dear as your own self, and delight in play with the women, for I am the one who will humble your pride. “Remember, whoever kills one who is intoxicated, careless, broken, alone, or weak is known in the world as a destroyer of embryos—such as you, deluded by arrogance.” Vali, hearing these taunts, laughed softly but with mounting anger. He released the women, beginning with Tara, and turned to Dundubhi. “Do not think I am drunk—if you are truly unafraid in battle. Let this intoxication prove itself in combat, for such is the drink of heroes.” With these words, Vali, now enraged, seized the golden garland given to him by his father Mahendra and stood ready for battle. Like an elephant among monkeys, he grabbed Dundubhi—who was massive as a mountain—by the horns and hurled him away, roaring mightily. The force of Vali’s blow struck Dundubhi down, and blood poured from his ears as he crashed to the ground. Driven by anger and the desire to defeat each other, a terrible battle erupted between Vali and Dundubhi. Vali, whose prowess rivaled that of Indra himself, fought fiercely, using his fists, knees, feet, rocks, and trees as weapons. As they struck each other, the asura Dundubhi began to weaken in the fight, while the son of Indra, Vali, only grew stronger. In the end, Vali lifted Dundubhi and hurled him to the ground; in that deadly struggle, Dundubhi was crushed. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, and the mighty-armed asura fell lifeless to the earth. Then, Vali swiftly lifted the corpse—unconscious and vast—and with a single motion, flung it a full yojana away. As Dundubhi’s body was hurled through the air, drops of blood from his mouth, carried by the wind, fell towards the hermitage of the sage Matanga. When the great sage saw those drops of blood fall, he was angered and wondered, “Who is this? By whom have I suddenly been touched with blood by this wicked one? Who is this evil-minded, unrestrained, foolish person?” Stepping out, the eminent sage saw the buffalo, mountain-like in form, lying dead on the ground. Realizing through his ascetic power that this had been done by a monkey, he pronounced a great curse upon the one who had hurled it. “Here, entry is forbidden to him; if he enters, he will die—he who has defiled my hermitage, my refuge, with streams of blood. By hurling trees, these have been broken, and the demonic body shattered; if anyone fills my hermitage, extending for a yojana all around—if that wicked-minded one comes, he will surely perish. And any of his counselors who take refuge in my forest—they too must not dwell here; let them leave as they please upon hearing this. If any of them remain, I will certainly curse them as well. “In this forest of mine, always protected as a son, for the destruction of leaves and shoots, and for the sake of fruits and roots—today is the limit; tomorrow, if I see that monkey, for many thousands of years he will become a mountain.” When the monkeys heard these words spoken by the sage, they departed from the forest. Seeing them, Vali asked, “Why have you all, dwellers of the Matanga forest, come together to me? Is all well with the forest-dwellers?” The monkeys then told Vali, adorned with his golden garland, everything—the reason for their departure and the curse that had been pronounced upon him. Hearing this, Vali approached the great sage and, with joined palms, begged for forgiveness. But the sage, disregarding his pleas, entered his hermitage, and Vali, fearful of the curse, became distraught. Thus, out of fear of the sage’s curse, Vali never wished to enter the great mountain Rishyamuka, nor even to look upon it, O king. Knowing Vali’s inability to enter, O Rama, I wander this vast forest with my counselors, free from anxiety. This heap of bones you see, shining forth, is that of Dundubhi—vast as a mountain peak—cast down by Vali’s might. Here too are the seven great sala trees with spreading branches, from which Vali can shake down the leaves of one by his strength alone. Thus, O Rama, I have shown you the unmatched strength of Vali. How, then, will you be able to slay Vali in battle, O king?