The Ramayana by Linda Egenes M.A

Author:Linda Egenes, M.A.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-08-19T12:08:16+00:00

I cannot identify the armlets or earrings,

but the anklets I remember well,

for I bowed to her feet each morning.

—Kishkindhā Kānda 6.22–23

CHAPTER 28

Rāma Slays Bāli

When she saw the body of valiant

Bāli lying on the ground, his

virtuous wife Tārā lamented,

“You who hurled mountain peaks

like thunderbolts,

whose valor matched Indra’s,

who tossed the titan buffalo

across the skies

like a discarded cloak—

you, hero among monkeys,

lie still before me,

dead to my cries.

“Why do you embrace the earth?

Rise and rest on your silken couch

befitting a great king.

Or do you love lying on the cold ground,

since now you scorn me?

Never again will you frolic with me

under fragrant bowers.

You have found a new and more golden

Kishkindhā in heaven.

“I who have never known pain

must spend my life as a widow.

And our tender son Angada

craves your embrace in vain.

You who were born a hero,

who struck down your enemies

with bare hands,

must return to the elements alone.

If only you had listened to my pleas

and made peace with the magnanimous Rāma.”

Like the sun rising above the mountaintop, Bāli appeared before Sugrīva. Burning with anger, he did not speak a word, but rushed at his brother, striking the first blow. A ferocious struggle began between the two brothers, like a clash between Mercury and Mars in the heavens.

As they struck each other with diamond-hard fists, Rāma stayed hidden in a grove of trees. He strung his bow and took aim. But he could not tell one brother from the other, as they resembled each other like the two divine Ashvins. Afraid to shoot his friend by mistake, Rāma let his bow fall slack at his side.

Sugrīva fought valiantly for a time, but finally, weary and discouraged that Rāma had not helped him, he ran away from his powerful brother. Covered with wounds, he hid himself on Mount Rishyamūkha. There Rāma and Hanumān found him later that day.

Sugrīva hung his head in despair and humiliation. “Why didn’t you keep your promise? I never would have subjected myself to such a battering if you had frankly told me that you did not wish to kill him.”

Rāma knelt at his friend’s side. “Sugrīva, you are my dear friend. Please do not be angry, for when you hear my reason you will understand. When you were wrestling with your brother, the two of you looked exactly alike. There was no way for me to tell you apart. I was afraid to dispatch my arrow for fear it would hit you by mistake. To kill one’s ally is a grave sin. Lakshmana and Sītā and I are completely dependent on your good will; you are our only hope. So let us go back and challenge Bāli again. Only this time wear something around your neck so I can tell you apart.”

At Rāma’s bidding, Lakshmana gathered a blossoming vine and twined it around Sugrīva’s neck like a garland. Revitalized, Sugrīva shone golden and radiant.

On their way back to Kishkindhā, they passed herds of elephants and deer. They saw flocks of birds swimming in an emerald lake thick with water lilies. Rāma found himself gazing at the densely clustered trees ringing the lake.

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