वैरकारणनिवेदनम्

Sugrīva began to tell Rāma the root of the enmity. "Vālī is my elder brother, a destroyer of enemies. Our father always held him in high regard, and before this feud so did I." With these first words Sugrīva makes clear that the enmity was not born with them but arose later. "When our father died, the ministers decided, 'He is the elder,' and consecrated him king of the monkeys, with the full approval of everyone." Vālī did not seize the throne by force; everyone agreed to it, and Sugrīva had no quarrel with that. "While he ruled that great kingdom handed down from our father and grandfather, I stood before him at all times, bowing low like a servant." The comparison shows his humility: he was like his brother's servant, not his rival. So the background of the feud begins in affection, which makes the break to come all the more painful. Sugrīva lays no blame here; in the first three verses he sets out three facts — Vālī was the elder, the ministers approved, and he himself served — so that Rāma receives a fair picture of the quarrel.

"There was a mighty demon named Māyāvī, the elder brother of Dundubhi, and between him and Vālī there was a great feud over a woman." The root of the feud is named but not dwelt on. "One night, when everyone was asleep, he came to the gate of Kiṣkindhā, roaring in fury, and challenged Vālī to fight." Night, a sleeping city, a roar at the gate — with that picture the poet raises sudden alarm. "Fast asleep though he was, my brother heard that fearful roaring and could not bear it; he rushed out at once." His inability to bear the challenge shows the intolerant nature that will later cause great harm. "As he burst out in anger to kill that chief of demons, the women tried to hold him back, and so did I, bowing low before him. But the mighty one shook us all off and went out, and out of affection I followed him." "Out of affection" is important: Sugrīva followed his brother not from greed or fear but from love. Māyāvī appears as the aggressor in every way — coming at night, roaring at the gate, reviving an old feud over a woman; Vālī's one fault is that in his impatience he went out alone at night. Sugrīva's following him was pure love, and that is the foundation of all that follows, which Sugrīva wants Rāma to see clearly.

"Seeing my brother, and me standing a little way off, the demon was seized with terror and fled at full speed. As he ran we pursued him faster still, and the moon, rising just then, lit up the path for us" — the poet makes the moon a witness, as if to say that even in darkness there was no escape. "The demon plunged at great speed into a huge fissure in the earth, a stronghold hidden under grass, and we reached it and stopped at its mouth. Seeing his enemy gone into the cave, Vālī was overcome with rage, and with his senses in turmoil" — his power of judgement lost — "he said to me: 'Stay here at the mouth of the cave today, Sugrīva, alert and watchful, until I go in and kill this enemy in battle.' When I heard this I begged to go with him, but that scorcher of foes made me swear by his feet and went into the cave alone." So the order that would later be the cause of the feud was given in affection. It was Vālī himself who ordered Sugrīva to stand at the mouth of the cave; Sugrīva did not choose it, and this matters later, because it is Vālī who will blame him for staying there. Making him swear by his feet shows Vālī's confidence: he posts his brother not as a kinsman but as a sentry bound by oath.

"A full year and more passed after he went in, and all that time I stood at the mouth of the cave. Thinking him lost, I grew anxious out of love; I could not see my brother, and my mind began to fear the worst. Then, after that long time, foaming blood came flowing out of the cave, and seeing it I was overwhelmed with grief. The roaring of demons reached my ears, but no cry of my elder brother, though he was fighting and shouting." From these three signs — the blood, the roaring of the demons, and the silence of his brother — Sugrīva concluded that his brother had been killed; the poet shows his judgement to be not wicked but based on evidence. "So, so that the demons could not come out, I blocked the mouth of the cave with a rock as big as a hill, and, stricken with grief, I offered my brother the funeral water and returned to Kiṣkindhā, my friend. I tried to keep the truth hidden, but the ministers found it out by their efforts." A year is a long time, and in all that time Sugrīva did not run away, which proves his loyalty. He blocked the cave not from greed but for fear the demons would come out, and he performed the funeral rite believing his brother dead. Both acts were right and proper, yet it is these that Vālī later counted as crimes — and that is Sugrīva's pain.

"Then the ministers gathered, came to me together and consecrated me king. While I was ruling the kingdom lawfully, Rāghava, Vālī came back, having killed the demon. Seeing me consecrated, his eyes red with fury, he had my ministers bound and spoke harshly to me." Vālī turned his anger not only on Sugrīva but on his supporters too. "Though I was able to restrain him, Rāghava, my mind would not turn against that wrongdoer, held back by respect for my elder brother." Sugrīva does not boast of his generosity; in that one phrase he tells Rāma of his loyalty to dharma — he did not answer back or retaliate. "Having killed his enemy, my brother entered the city. Honouring that great one, I greeted him as was proper, but he spoke no blessing with a glad heart. I bowed and touched his feet with my crown, my lord, and still in his anger Vālī showed me no favour." Touching his brother's feet with his crown was the utmost humility: with the very emblem of kingship he touched Vālī's feet, as if surrendering the kingdom to him. Still Vālī would not be appeased. So by the end of the sarga the cause of the enmity has been fully laid before Rāma, and with this ending the poet sets the listener's sympathy with Sugrīva.