Rāma, standing before the wounded Vāli, spoke with clarity and firmness. He explained that in the world, both hidden and visible creatures—those who run, those who are frightened, those who are careless, and even those who stand their ground—are captured and hunted. Men who eat meat strike down animals, whether they are attentive or inattentive, turned away or facing them, and there is no blame in this. Rāma reminded Vāli that royal sages, skilled in dharma, have always hunted in such ways. Thus, he declared, “O monkey, whether you fought or not, I have struck you down with my arrow, for you are a branch-animal, and this is the way of kings.” He continued, “For the sake of rare dharma, for life, and for good fortune, kings are indeed the givers—there is no doubt about this. One should not harm, abuse, insult, or speak unpleasantly to them, for they are gods who wander this earth in human form. Yet you, not understanding dharma and relying only on anger, accuse me in matters of righteousness, which are established by our fathers and grandfathers.” Hearing these words, Vāli was deeply distressed. Yet, reflecting on Rāma’s reasoning, he found no fault in him, and his heart became clear about the nature of dharma. With hands joined in reverence, Vāli replied, “O best of men, what you have said is indeed true—there is no doubt. Only the superior can respond to the superior, not the inferior. If, earlier, I spoke words that were unfitting or unpleasant out of carelessness, O Rāghava, you should not blame me. For you perceive the true nature of things, are devoted to the welfare of the people, and your unwavering intellect is established in discerning right action and its cause.” He pleaded, “If I too have acted against righteousness, knowingly or unknowingly, O knower of dharma, protect me with words joined to righteousness.” Overcome with emotion, Vāli’s throat tightened with tears, and he cried out in pain, speaking slowly to Rāma and looking at him like an elephant mired in mud. “I do not grieve for myself, nor for Tārā, nor for my kin, as much as I do for my son, Aṅgada, who is foremost in virtue and adorned with golden ornaments. Deprived of seeing me, my cherished child will wither away like a pond whose water has been drunk dry. He is but a child, his understanding unformed, my only beloved son. O Rāma, the mighty son of Tārā must be protected by you. Direct your highest wisdom towards Sugrīva and Aṅgada, for you are both protector and guide, steadfast in discerning what should and should not be done.” Vāli continued, “The conduct you show towards Bharata and Lakṣmaṇa, O king, that same conduct you should consider for Sugrīva and Aṅgada. Just as you would ensure that Sugrīva does not disregard Tārā, who is devoted to austerity and bears the blame for my faults, so you should act. One favored by you can rule the kingdom, living according to your will and following your mind. It is possible to attain heaven and to rule the earth by acting under your guidance; yet, even as Tārā tried to restrain me, I sought my death at your hands. I entered into single combat with my brother Sugrīva.” Having spoken thus, the lord of the monkeys fell silent. Rāma then comforted Vāli with words approved by the virtuous and filled with the meaning of dharma. “You should not be troubled, O monkey. We are not to be grieved over by you, nor should you, best of monkeys, 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. Thus, by receiving the due punishment, you are freed from sin and have attained your own righteous nature by the path prescribed by justice. Abandon grief, delusion, and the fear that dwells in your heart, for the ordained order cannot be transgressed by you.” He added, “As Aṅgada is always devoted to you, O lord of the monkeys, so too should Sugrīva be devoted to me—of this there is no doubt.” Hearing these sweet, thoughtful, and righteous words of the great-souled Rāma, Vāli, skilled in battle, spoke well-chosen words. “When, distressed by arrows, I spoke to you unknowingly, O lord, you—whose might is like Indra’s and whose valor is terrifying—have been appeased; forgive me, O king.” Now begins the nineteenth chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā section. The great monkey king, lying wounded by arrows, though addressed with reasoned words, gave no reply. His limbs, shattered by stones and struck severely by trees, overwhelmed by Rāma’s arrows, at the end of his life he lost consciousness. Tārā, Vāli’s beloved wife, heard that her husband, the tiger among monkeys, had been slain in battle by Rāma’s arrow. Together with her son, upon hearing of her beloved husband’s cruel death, she was deeply distressed and rushed out from the mountain cave. The mighty monkeys who were attendants of Aṅgada, seeing Rāma with his bow, were terrified and fled in all directions. Tārā saw the frightened monkeys running swiftly, scattered from their troop like deer whose leader has been killed. Approaching those sorrowful ones, she too grieving, addressed all the monkeys who were fleeing in fear of Rāma, their ranks broken by arrows. “You monkeys, who were the foremost followers of the lion among kings—why, having abandoned him, do you flee in terror and distress? If, for the sake of the kingdom, a brother has been struck down by his own cruel brother, by Rāma’s far-flying arrows sent from afar—” Hearing the words of the monkey’s wife, the monkeys, who could assume any form at will, spoke timely and appropriate words to the lady.