Moved by the gravity of the moment and the righteousness of the situation, Vāli addressed Rāma with humility, acknowledging that every command Rāma gave was justified and proper, grounded as it was in great and noble reasons. He affirmed that Rāma’s restraint and actions were, in every way, in accordance with dharma, and reminded that anyone wishing to help a friend must always act with righteousness in mind. Vāli continued, saying that Rāma, too, was capable of carrying out his duty while adhering solely to dharma. He recalled the virtuous verses sung by Manu—verses cherished and followed by those skilled in dharma—and declared that he himself had lived by that conduct. Vāli reflected on the role of kings: when they enforce punishment, even those who have committed sins are purified and attain heaven, just as the virtuous do. Whether a thief is punished or released, he is freed from his sin; but if a king fails to punish the wrongdoer, the king himself becomes tainted by that sin. He remembered his ancestor Māndhātr̥, who once brought about a dreadful calamity when a sin was committed by an ascetic—a sin much like the one Vāli himself had committed. Even when other rulers, through carelessness, stray into sin, they perform atonement and thereby cleanse themselves of stain. Thus, Vāli concluded, there should be no more sorrow, for the killing was ordained by dharma; none of them were truly independent in these matters. Vāli urged Rāma to listen to another reason, assuring him that, after hearing it, there should be no anger. He declared that he held no grief or anger about what had happened. He compared men who, using snares, nets, and traps—both hidden and visible—capture many animals: those that run, those that fear, those that are careless, and those that stand firm. Hunters strike both inattentive and attentive animals, even those that turn away, and there is no fault in this. Righteous kings, skilled in dharma, also hunt, and so it was fitting that Vāli, as a monkey, was killed in battle by Rāma’s arrow, whether he was fighting or not, for he was a “branch-animal”—one who dwells among the trees. Vāli acknowledged that for rare dharma, for life, and for good fortune, kings are the true givers—there could be no doubt. Such kings should never be harmed, abused, insulted, or spoken to harshly, for they are gods who walk the earth in human form. Yet, Vāli admitted, he had failed to understand dharma and, driven by anger, had accused Rāma of wrongdoing according to the ancient standards set by the ancestors. Hearing these words, Vāli was deeply distressed. He could no longer find fault with Rāma, having now attained clarity about the path of dharma. With hands joined in reverence, the king of the monkeys replied, “What you have spoken, O best of men, is indeed true—there is no doubt.” He affirmed that only the superior can answer the superior, not the inferior. If, earlier, he had spoken carelessly, uttering words unworthy or harsh, Rāma should not hold it against him. For Rāma was one who truly saw the nature of things, devoted to the welfare of all, his clear and unwavering intellect established in discerning right action and its causes. Vāli pleaded, “If I, too, have ever acted outside righteousness, knowingly or unknowingly, O knower of dharma, protect me with words joined to righteousness.” Overcome with emotion, his throat choked by tears, Vāli uttered a cry of pain and spoke slowly, gazing at Rāma like an elephant trapped in the mud. He confessed that he did not grieve for himself, nor for Tārā, nor even for his kin, as much as he did for his son Aṅgada—the foremost in virtue, adorned with golden ornaments. Deprived of his father’s sight, Aṅgada, cherished since childhood, would wither away like a pond dried up by thirsty animals. Still a child, his understanding unformed, Aṅgada was his only beloved son, and Vāli begged Rāma to protect the mighty son of Tārā. He urged Rāma to direct his highest wisdom towards Sugrīva and Aṅgada, for Rāma was both protector and guide, steadfast in discerning what should and should not be done. The same conduct Rāma showed towards Bharata and Lakṣmaṇa, he should also show towards Sugrīva and Aṅgada. Vāli asked Rāma to ensure that Sugrīva would not disregard Tārā, who was devoted to austerity and bore the blame for Vāli’s own faults. Vāli declared that anyone favored by Rāma could rule the kingdom, living according to Rāma’s will and following his mind. It was possible to attain heaven or rule the earth under Rāma’s guidance; yet, even as Tārā tried to restrain him, Vāli had sought his own death at Rāma’s hands. He had entered into single combat with his brother Sugrīva, and, having spoken thus, the lord of the monkeys fell silent. Rāma then addressed Vāli with words approved by the virtuous, filled with the essence of dharma, and offered comfort to the now-clear-minded Vāli. “You should not be troubled, O monkey; there is no need to grieve for us, nor should you grieve for yourself. In this matter, we have acted with firm resolve according to dharma. He who imposes punishment on the guilty, and the one who is punished—both, having fulfilled the purpose of action and its cause, should not be sorrowful. By receiving the due punishment, you are freed from sin and have attained your own righteous nature by the path prescribed by justice.” Rāma urged Vāli to abandon grief, delusion, and fear, for the ordained order could not be transgressed by anyone—not even by Vāli. As Angada was always devoted to Vāli, so too should Sugrīva be devoted to Rāma—there could be no doubt. Hearing these sweet, thoughtful, and righteous words from the great-souled Rāma, Vāli, skilled in battle, spoke again. He recalled that, when distressed by arrows, he had spoken harshly to Rāma unknowingly, but now, recognizing Rāma’s might and valor, he sought forgiveness. Thus concludes this portion of the story, as the nineteenth chapter begins in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā section.