तारायाः लक्ष्मणप्रसादनम्

As the son of Sumitrā spoke, seeming to blaze with his own energy, Tārā, her face like the moon, answered him. "You should not speak like this, Lakṣmaṇa; he does not deserve harsh words. The lord of the monkeys does not deserve to hear them, least of all from your lips. Sugrīva is not ungrateful, hero, nor a cheat, nor cruel, nor a liar, nor is the lord of the monkeys crooked. Nor has this heroic monkey forgotten the service Rāma did him in battle, a deed no one else could have done." She begins with five denials, answering one by one the charges Lakṣmaṇa had made. "From your lips" hints that such words might be borne from others but not from a friend, whose closeness makes them sharper. By opening with "you should not speak like this", she objects not to the root of his anger but only to the form of his words, leaving the substance to be weighed later; so at the very start of the dispute she prepares the ground for peace. Lakṣmaṇa makes no reply, and his silence shows the force of her words.

"It is by Rāma's favour, scorcher of foes," said Tārā, "that Sugrīva has won fame here, the lasting kingdom of the monkeys, Rumā, and me as well." She does not defend him by denying the kindness; she admits it fully from the start, and that admission is the ground of her plea. "He lay so long in misery, and now that he has won this great happiness he does not see that the hour has come, as once the sage Viśvāmitra did not. They say, Lakṣmaṇa, that the great and righteous sage Viśvāmitra, held fast by the nymph Ghṛtācī, thought ten years a single day. If even Viśvāmitra of great energy, best of those who know the times, did not know when the hour had come, what of an ordinary creature? He has given way to the needs of the body, he is worn out and not yet sated with pleasure; Rāma should forgive him for this, Lakṣmaṇa." The example of Viśvāmitra, whose story is told in the Bāla Kāṇḍa, is subtle: if even a treasure-house of austerity forgot the time, how could a monkey king sunk in pleasure not forget it? The fault is admitted, but softened as a weakness common to all. Ten years seeming like a day shows how natural such a mistake about time is, and the needs of the body, food, sleep and love, belong to beasts as much as men, so slipping in them is weakness, not wickedness.

"Dear Lakṣmaṇa," Tārā went on, "you should not give way to anger rashly, like a common man, before you have learned the truth of the matter. Men of firm nature like you, bull among men, do not fall under the sway of anger without thinking." She reminds him of the root of justice, that judgment must come before punishment, and by saying "like a common man" she appeals to his own dignity, for sudden anger does not become one of high standing. "Knower of dharma, I beg you with all my heart for Sugrīva's sake: set aside this great agitation born of anger." In calling him a knower of dharma she takes refuge in that very knowledge. "I believe that for Rāma's sake Sugrīva would give up Rumā and me, Aṅgada and the kingdom, wealth, grain and cattle. Sugrīva will kill that vilest of rākṣasas and bring Rāghava together with Sītā, as the moon is joined with Rohiṇī." Her argument has two sides: first she reminds Lakṣmaṇa of his own nature, then she speaks of Sugrīva's readiness to give everything up; and by counting herself among what he would give up, she proves her own selflessness. Naming his son makes the sacrifice sharper still, and so reason and feeling together give her words their strength.

"In Laṅkā, they say," Tārā said, "there are a hundred thousand crores of rākṣasas, and thirty-six myriads, thousands and hundreds besides. Without killing those rākṣasas, who can take any form and are hard to overcome, Rāvaṇa, who carried off the princess of Mithilā, cannot be killed. They cannot be killed in battle by one who has no allies, Lakṣmaṇa, and least of all Rāvaṇa of cruel deeds without Sugrīva." The numbers are not mere exaggeration; they serve to prove that allies are needed. Her counsel is that the work will be done not by anger but by gathering forces. By saying "they say" she admits that her knowledge rests on hearsay, not on what she has seen, and so keeps her word honest. All three verses lead to one conclusion: allies are indispensable.

"Vālin, the lord of the monkeys, who knew such things, told me this," Tārā said; "how the knowledge came to him is not clear to me; I speak only from what I heard from him." So she states the limits of her own knowledge, a mark of her honesty. "It is to help you that the leading monkeys were sent out, to bring very many more of the chief monkeys for the war. It is while he waits for those valiant and mighty ones, for the sake of Rāghava's cause, that the lord of the monkeys has not yet set out. As Sugrīva arranged long ago, son of Sumitrā, all those mighty monkeys are to arrive this very day." "Long ago" shows that the promise was already being kept, not a new decision, and so Lakṣmaṇa's charge answers itself. "Thousands of crores of bears, hundreds of hundreds of long-tailed monkeys, and many crores of monkeys of blazing energy will come to you today, Kākutstha. Put your anger away, tamer of foes. When they see your face in anger and your eyes red as blood, the wives of the monkey chiefs can find no peace; remembering that first terror, we are all afraid." In the end she leaves reasoning for feeling: the women's fear is her last weapon, for a hero who frightens women will of himself draw back. The last verse is in a longer metre, and the sarga ends with the women's fear, which paints once more how terrible Lakṣmaṇa's anger was.