वालिना रावणस्य धर्षणं सख्यं च

Released by Arjuna, Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, was undaunted despite the humiliation he had suffered, and roamed the whole earth once more; the word "undaunted" shows that his pride had not been broken. He had learned nothing from defeat but went looking for a new rival: whenever he heard of anyone, rākṣasa or man, who excelled in strength, he would go to him in his arrogance and challenge him to battle — even the fame of another's strength was more than he could bear. So Agastya went on telling Rāma, one after another, the defeats Rāvaṇa had suffered, and after Arjuna, Vālin was the second to beat him. Once Rāvaṇa came to the city of Kiṣkindhā, ruled by Vālin, and challenged gold-garlanded Vālin to battle — Vālin was famous for wearing the golden garland Indra had given him. Then Tāra, minister of the vānaras and lordly father of Tārā — and so Vālin's father-in-law as well — spoke to him who had come eager for battle. "Lord of the rākṣasas," he said, "Vālin, who might be a match for you, has gone out. What other monkey could stand before you?" — humbly admitting that he himself was no match. "Vālin has been worshipping at the twilight by all four oceans, Rāvaṇa, and he will be back at this very hour; wait a moment. Look at these heaps of bones, white as conch shells: they belong to kings who came seeking battle and were slain by the might of the lord of the vānaras." The heaps of bones were plain proof of Vālin's past victories. "Even if you had drunk the essence of nectar, Rāvaṇa, once you met Vālin that would be the end of your life" — nectar itself would not make him immortal. "Look now at this wondrous world, son of Viśravas; wait just a moment here, for after it your life will be hard to keep. Or if you are in such a hurry to die, go to the southern ocean; there you will see Vālin, like a fire standing on the earth." Tāra's words mixed mockery with pity: he meant both to frighten Rāvaṇa and to warn him, and the repeated "a moment" sharpened his irony. His pride in Vālin and his scorn for Rāvaṇa both show, and telling one in a hurry to die to go to the southern ocean was enough to set Rāvaṇa's pride ablaze.

But Rāvaṇa — "he who makes the worlds cry out" — rebuked Tāra, mounted the Puṣpaka and went off to the southern ocean. There he saw Vālin, like a mountain of gold, his face like the young sun, absorbed in the twilight worship. Getting down from the Puṣpaka, Rāvaṇa, dark as collyrium, crept forward with soundless steps to seize Vālin quickly: to attack from behind like a thief was his plan. The contrast of colour — Rāvaṇa dark as collyrium, Vālin golden as a mountain of gold — marks the difference between sin and merit. By chance Vālin saw Rāvaṇa too, but though he saw his wicked intent he was not in the least alarmed. As a lion that has spotted a hare, or Garuḍa a serpent, Vālin gave no thought to Rāvaṇa and his wicked purpose; he did not even count him an enemy, only as prey. He thought to himself, "This wicked-minded Rāvaṇa is coming to seize me. I shall hang him under my arm and go round the three great oceans. The worlds will see my enemy, the Ten-necked one, hanging against my side like a serpent dangling from Garuḍa, his thighs, arms and clothes all slipping down." Vālin meant not only to subdue his enemy but to make him a laughing-stock before the world, and the words paint Rāvaṇa's coming plight — thighs, arms and garments all dangling. Having resolved this, Vālin kept silent and went on reciting the Vedic mantras, standing as still as the king of mountains. The two characters stand in contrast: Rāvaṇa wanted to strike from behind by stealth, while Vālin, absorbed in his religious duty, was fearless; he would not give up his twilight worship, and even with his enemy in sight he did not stop his prayers — steady as a mountain.

The two kings, of monkeys and of rākṣasas, each proud of his strength and each meaning to seize the other, set about the task in earnest. Judging from the sound of his footsteps that Rāvaṇa had come within reach of his hand, Vālin, though his back was turned, seized him as Garuḍa, the egg-born, seizes a snake. That is the marvel of the episode: Vālin never looked at his enemy but knew where he was by the sound of his feet alone. Having seized the lord of the rākṣasas who had meant to seize him, Vālin hung him under his arm and sprang swiftly into the sky. Crushed there, Rāvaṇa kept tearing at him with his nails, but Vālin carried him off as the wind carries a cloud — as helpless in Vālin's grip as a cloud in the wind's. Like a child he scratched with his nails, but Vālin did not waver, and even the strength of his twenty arms could not free him from under Vālin's arm. As the Ten-faced one was carried off, his rākṣasa ministers rushed shouting after Vālin to rescue him. With them following, Vālin shone in mid-sky like the sun pursued by masses of cloud, which chase it but cannot cover it. Unable to reach Vālin, those chief rākṣasas, worn out by the speed of his arms and thighs, gave up and halted on the way; their speed was no match for his, and Rāvaṇa was left wholly helpless, his helpers far off and himself pinned under an arm. Even the great mountains would get out of Vālin's way as he went — how much more any creature of flesh and blood that wanted to live! The scene recalls the episode with Arjuna: there too Rāvaṇa was bound and his ministers fled.

Along paths where not even flocks of birds could fly, the swift lord of the vānaras went to all the oceans in turn and saluted the twilight at each. Honoured by the beings who travel the sky — even the siddhas and gandharvas revered him — Vālin, best of sky-rovers, came to the western ocean with Rāvaṇa. There he worshipped the twilight, bathed and recited his prayers, and went on to the northern ocean, still carrying the Ten-faced one. Carrying him many thousands of yojanas, the great monkey travelled with his enemy like the wind and like the mind. At the northern ocean he worshipped the twilight, and then went on to the eastern ocean carrying the Ten-faced one. There too the son of Vāsava — for Vālin was Indra's son — worshipped the twilight, and then turned back towards Kiṣkindhā with Rāvaṇa in his grip. His round of the oceans went south, west, north and east, keeping them always to his right, and at each he worshipped, bathed and prayed: this was not merely a show of strength but proof of his devotion to his daily rites, for even carrying his enemy he did not miss a single twilight. Having worshipped at all four oceans, the monkey, tired from carrying Rāvaṇa — which shows how heavy Rāvaṇa was, that even so mighty a monkey grew tired, carrying such a load over thousands of yojanas — came down in a grove outside Kiṣkindhā, not in the middle of the city, perhaps so as to release Rāvaṇa quietly and not expose his humiliation before the people.

Then the best of monkeys let Rāvaṇa go from under his arm and, laughing, asked him again and again, "Where have you come from?" He knew very well who he was, but wanted to hear it from his own mouth. Filled with wonder, his eyes rolling with fatigue, the lord of the rākṣasas said to the lord of the monkeys, "Lord of the vānaras, splendid as great Indra, I am Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas. I came here looking for a fight, and today I have found one at your hands." There was humility even in his answer: he had come seeking battle and had got it, and he admitted his defeat. "Ah, what strength is yours, what valour, what depth, that you seized me like a beast and carried me round the four oceans! Who but you, hero, could carry me so swiftly and so tirelessly? Such speed belongs to three beings only, monkey — to the mind, to the wind and to Suparṇa, Garuḍa; and to you as a fourth, beyond doubt." This comparison of speed with mind, wind and Garuḍa will be heard again later of Hanumān. "Now that I have seen your strength, bull among monkeys, I want a lasting and loving friendship with you, sworn before the fire. Wives, sons, city, kingdom, pleasures, clothing and food — let everything be shared between us two, lord of the monkeys." That he offered to share everything, even wives, shows how carried away he was. Then they kindled a fire, and the monkey and the rākṣasa embraced and became brothers — a sacred bond with fire as witness, as Rāma too made his friendship with Sugrīva before the fire. Holding each other's hands, the two entered Kiṣkindhā joyfully, like two lions entering a mountain cave. Rāvaṇa stayed there a month, honoured like Sugrīva himself — like a brother of Vālin — so the friendship was not words alone but lived in deed. Then his ministers came and took him away, for they were eager to lay waste the three worlds, and their plan of conquest was not yet complete. Here we see a turn in Rāvaṇa's nature: when defeated, he did not hate his conqueror but, amazed by his strength, sought his friendship, just as he had done with Arjuna. Agastya concluded, "So it happened long ago, lord: Rāvaṇa was humbled by Vālin, and then chosen by him as a brother before the fire" — defeat and friendship both. "Vālin's strength, Rāma, was supreme and beyond compare; yet he too was burnt up by you, as a moth by a flame." That was the purpose of the whole episode, the answer to Rāma's question: Vālin had been stronger even than Rāvaṇa, and Agastya reminded Rāma what a mighty warrior it was he had slain — and the image of the moth shows that before Rāma even Vālin's strength was of no avail.