सुग्रीवस्य प्रोत्साहनम्

Rāma, son of Daśaratha, was worn down by grief, and the glorious Sugrīva spoke to him words meant to drive grief away. "Hero, why do you torment yourself like some ordinary man? Do not be so. Throw off this anguish the way an ungrateful man throws off a friendship. Now that we have news of Sītā and know where the enemy lives, I see no ground for your distress. You are wise, learned in the śāstras, clear-sighted and discerning; cast off this common way of thinking, as a man in command of himself casts off a thought that would ruin his purpose. We shall cross the ocean, for all its great sea-monsters, climb up into Laṅkā and kill your enemy. When a man loses heart, grows dejected and lets grief unsettle his mind, every aim he has comes to nothing and he falls into misfortune." Sugrīva is keeping the duty of a friend: Rāma stood by him when Vālin was slain, and now he steadies Rāma's mind in return. His comparison is sharp: just as an ungrateful man forgets a kindness, so grief must be put away completely. He first removes the cause of grief: what was unknown is now known, so this is a time for action, not for sorrow. The maxim that a man without zeal loses everything is the root of all his counsel. The four words he uses of Rāma, wise, learned, clear-sighted and discerning, remind Rāma of his own understanding; for such a man, grieving like a common person is unbecoming. Sugrīva does not reproach Rāma; he restores him by reminding him of who he is. And when he speaks of climbing up into Laṅkā he hints that the city stands on a mountain peak.

"These monkey chiefs have come from every quarter; they are brave and able, and ready for your sake to walk into fire. I can tell it from their high spirits, and my own judgement is firm: by valour I shall kill the enemy and bring Sītā back. Deal so with Rāvaṇa, that doer of evil. Act, Rāghava, so that a bridge may be built here and we may see the city of the rākṣasa king. Once we have seen Laṅkā standing on the peak of Trikūṭa, take it from that sight alone that Rāvaṇa is dead in battle. Without a bridge over this terrible ocean, the home of Varuṇa, not even the gods and asuras with Indra at their head could crush Laṅkā. But once the bridge reaches across the sea to Laṅkā's shore, count my whole army across and the victory won, for these monkeys, who can take any form they wish, are heroes in battle." Here Sugrīva proposes the bridge for the first time, the bridge that Nala will later build. His reasoning is simple: there is only one obstacle, the sea; the remedy for it is a bridge; and once the bridge is made the war is as good as won. The monkeys' eagerness is his proof. His words "from that sight alone" deserve notice: merely to see Laṅkā is to be sure of Rāvaṇa's death, for Rāma's prowess is such that reaching his target is itself victory. So Sugrīva divides the problem in two: crossing the sea is hard, killing Rāvaṇa is easy.

"So enough, O king, of this faint-heartedness that ruins every aim; in this world grief drains a man's courage. The task a man takes up with proud valour is the very thing that soon becomes his ornament. At a time like this, wisest of men, stand firm with all your fire. For brave and great-souled men like you, grief over something lost or gone astray only wrecks every purpose. You are the best of the wise and know the meaning of every śāstra; with counsellors like me you are fully able to conquer the enemy. I see no one in the three worlds who could stand against you in battle once you have taken up your bow." The word Sugrīva uses for valour carries a note of pride: he is reminding Rāma of his nature as a kṣatriya. In calling himself one of Rāma's counsellors, he counts himself not merely a friend but a minister in Rāma's service. Grief does double damage, to courage and to judgement; so for Sugrīva, casting it off is not mere consolation but the first preparation for war. His words about a thing lost or gone astray are general: whatever has been lost or is out of sight, grief does not become great men. And the unspoken point is that Sītā is not lost, only far away, so there is all the less reason to grieve.

"Your cause, now in the monkeys' hands, will not fail. Soon you will cross the endless ocean and see Sītā. So enough of clinging to grief, lord of the earth; take hold of anger instead. A kṣatriya who does nothing is sluggish and of no use; everyone fears a fierce man. You have come here with us to cross this terrible ocean, lord of rivers; think it through with that subtle mind of yours. Once it has been crossed with these armies, be sure the victory is won; count my whole army across and the battle won. These monkeys are heroes who can take any form they wish, and they will scatter the enemy with showers of rocks and trees. If only I see the home of Varuṇa crossed, I shall think of Rāvaṇa as already dead in battle, destroyer of enemies. Why say more? You will be victorious in every way. I see such omens that my heart is filled with joy." So Sugrīva puts anger in grief's place, for a kṣatriya's anger is what his enemies fear. He repeats almost word for word his earlier claim that his whole army is as good as across, doubling the force of his conviction; and at the end he reads the omens, a trust in signs that returns again and again in this kāṇḍa. By asking Rāma to think it through, he leaves the means of crossing to Rāma's own mind: the army is ready, but the leader must decide the way. The showers of rocks and trees are the monkeys' manner of fighting, since those are their only weapons. So Sugrīva's words lift Rāma's anxiety, and in the next sarga Rāma asks Hanumān about Laṅkā's defences.