Hear now the seventeenth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. When Vāli, fierce in battle, was struck by Rāma’s arrow, he fell suddenly, like a mighty tree cut down. Adorned with ornaments of burning gold, Vāli’s body crashed to the earth, his limbs outstretched, shining like Indra’s banner whose radiance has been released. As the lord of the monkeys and bears lay fallen, the world seemed to lose its brilliance, just as the sky is darkened when the moon is absent. Even as he lay on the ground, Vāli’s body did not lose its splendor, nor its life, energy, or valor, though struck down. The golden garland, adorned with jewels and gifted by Indra himself, preserved the life, energy, and glory of this foremost monkey. With the garland glowing on his chest, Vāli, heroic leader of the monkeys, looked like a sunset cloud fringed with light. His garland, his powerful body, and the arrow that had struck his vital spot—all three shone together, even as he lay fallen. The weapon released from Rāma’s bow, which opens the path to heaven for heroes, carried Vāli to the highest state. He lay fallen in battle, like a fire whose flames have died, like Yayāti cast down from heaven at the end of his merit. Like the sun fallen to earth by the force of time at the end of an age, like mighty Indra, hard to withstand, like Upendra, difficult to endure—Vāli, son of Indra, adorned with a golden garland, broad-chested, mighty-armed, with a radiant face and lion-like eyes, lay there, defeated. Rāma, accompanied by Lakṣmaṇa, saw Vāli and approached him—the hero fallen, like a fire whose flames have gone out. The two brothers, both of great valor, came gently near, regarding the honored hero with respect. Seeing Rāma, descendant of Raghu, and mighty Lakṣmaṇa, Vāli spoke harsh words—yet they were courteous and grounded in righteousness. Though his brilliance was diminished and his senses lost, like a demon slain, Vāli spoke words aimed at reason, proud of his prowess in battle. He said, “You, famed and pleasing to behold, son of the lord of men—what virtue have you gained here by killing one who was turned away? For I, enraged in battle, have met my end because of you. Compassionate, of great resolve, keeper of agreements, steadfast in vows—such is the fame all beings speak of you upon the earth. Self-control, restraint, patience, righteousness, fortitude, truth, valor—these are the virtues of kings, O ruler, along with punishment for wrongdoers. Considering these virtues and your noble lineage, I was restrained by Tara, yet I came to meet Sugriva. You ought not to strike me, enraged and careless, by another’s hand; such was the thought that arose in me when I did not see you. I know you as one whose soul is slain, a banner of righteousness yet unrighteous, evil in conduct, like a well covered with grass. A wicked man in the guise of the virtuous, hidden like fire—thus I do not recognize you, concealed by the pretense of righteousness. Whether in your realm or your city, whenever I commit a wrong, I do not disregard you—so why do you slay me, innocent of sin? I am a monkey living in the forest, always eating fruits and roots, not fighting you here, but engaged with another. You, son of the lord of men, renowned and pleasing to see, indeed bear the marks of righteousness, O king, visible to all. What man, born in a warrior’s line, learned and free of doubt, would commit a cruel deed, hiding behind the signs of righteousness? You are born in the Raghava lineage, renowned for righteousness; why do you, who appear noble, act in a manner unworthy of you? Conciliation, generosity, forbearance, righteousness, truth, steadfastness, and valor—these are the virtues of kings, O ruler, as is punishment for wrongdoers. We are forest-dwellers, Rāma, living on roots, fruits, and meat; this is our nature, while you are a man among men, O lord of people. Land, gold, women, and causes for conflict—these are sources of desire; what greed could you have here, in my forest fruits? Both discipline and self-restraint, as well as punishment and favor, are duties of a king; the royal conduct is not tainted—kings do not act on mere desire. But you are led by desire, quick to anger, unstable, and your royal conduct is mixed; you are devoted to the bow and arrow. You have no respect for righteousness, nor is your mind fixed on wealth; ruled by your senses and desires, you are swayed, O lord of men. Having killed me here with an arrow, O Kakutstha, though I am without fault, what will you say among the virtuous after committing such a shameful deed? A king-slayer, a brahmin-killer, a slayer of cows, a thief, one intent on killing living beings, an atheist, and one who violates another’s wife—all these go to hell. A tale-bearer, a miser, a betrayer of friends, one who violates the teacher’s bed—these evil-hearted ones go to ruin; there is no doubt about this. My skin, hair, and bones are not to be accepted by the virtuous, nor is my flesh to be eaten by the righteous like you. Five creatures with five claws are permitted as food for brahmins and kshatriyas, O Raghava: the porcupine, the hedgehog, the iguana, the hare, and the tortoise as the fifth. Wise men do not touch my skin or bones, O Rāma, nor do they eat my flesh; yet I, a five-clawed creature, have been slain.” Thus, Vāli spoke, fallen yet radiant, his words mingling pain, pride, and the pursuit of righteousness, as Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa stood before him in the forest.