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Bhīṣma said.
Having thus spoken to Śalmali, O king, the foremost knower of Brahman, Nārada narrated all of Śalmali's words to the wind.
A certain silk-cotton tree, born on the slopes of the Himalaya, surrounded by its kin, with great roots and branches, now dares to disregard you, O Vāyu.
He spoke many reproachful words to you; O Vāyu, it was not proper for me to say those things to you, O lord.
I know you, O Vāyu, as the foremost among all beings who sustain life; you are the most excellent and the mightiest, and in anger, you are like Vaivasvata (Yama), the god of death.
Having thus heard Nārada's words, the Wind-god, angry, approached the Śalmali tree and spoke.
O Śalmali and Nārada, regarding the reproach of me that was declared as truth, I, Vāyu, will now show you the power of my own strength.
I do not recognize you, but you are known to me, O tree. At the creation of beings, my grandfather, the lord, rested in you.
The favor done for you by his resting alone protects you, O wicked-minded one, not your own strength, O lowest of trees.
Because you have disregarded me as an ordinary person, I will now reveal my true self to you so that you may understand who I truly am.
Thus addressed, the silk-cotton tree, as if smiling, said: "O Wind, if you are angry in the forest, show your true self by your own power."
Let anger towards me be abandoned indeed; what can you do to me by being angry? I do not fear you, O Wind, even though you are your own master.
Thus addressed, the Wind (god) said: "Tomorrow, I will show you the splendor." Then night fell.
Then, having determined in his mind the silk-cotton tree shaken by the wind, the wind-god, seeing that self as unequal, (acted thus).
O Nārada, what I told Vāyu was untrue; I am truly powerless compared to Vāyu's strength, for he is indeed powerful.
The wind is always powerful, as Nārada said. As for me, I am certainly weaker than others, weaker than the trees; there is no doubt about it.
But there is no tree equal to my intellect. Therefore, I will rely on my intellect and free myself from the fear of the wind.
If the leaf-eaters in the forest act with that wisdom, they will always be safe from the angry wind; there is no doubt about this.
These here are children and do not know, just as the wind does not know them; if the wind, being very angry, were to blow as I know, so it would be.
Then, having resolved in its mind, the agitated silk-cotton tree itself shook off its branches, trunks, and sub-branches.
In the morning, the tree, having shed its branches, leaves, and flowers, looked at the approaching wind.
Then, the furious wind, blowing violently and toppling great trees, arrived at the place where the Śalmali tree stood.
The wind, seeing the silk-cotton tree deprived of leaves, with fallen top branches and scattered flowers, joyfully and smilingly spoke these words to him, the tree with broken branches.
I too, in the same way, will act towards you, O silk-cotton tree, in anger, by myself, just as the complete removal of the branches was done.
You, whose branches are deprived of flowers and whose sprouts and leaves are withered, have here, by your own misguided counsel, come under my power.
When Śalmali heard these words of Vāyu, he became ashamed. Then, recalling the words that Nārada had spoken at that time, he was tormented.
O tiger among kings, in this way, when the weak forms enmity with the stronger, he is tormented, just as a child is scorched like the silk-cotton tree.
Therefore, the weak should not make enmity with those who are stronger. For one who makes enmity will surely grieve, just as the silk-cotton tree does.
Great-souled ones do not display enmity towards wrongdoers. Gradually, O great king, they reveal their strength.
A man of evil intellect should not make enmity with one who lives by intellect. The intellect of the wise moves among obstacles like fire through cotton.
O king, truly, nothing in a person is equal to intellect; likewise, O king of kings, one should consider that there is no equal to strength.
Therefore, O king, you should forgive the child, the dull-witted, the deaf, and the stronger; O destroyer of enemies, you have seen this.
O king, even ten, one, and seven divisions of an army, O greatly radiant one, are not equal in strength to the great-souled Arjuna.
Those were slain and broken by the glorious Pāṇḍava, who, moving in battle, relying on his strength, acted as the subduer of Pāka (Indra).
O Bhārata, I have already explained to you the duties of a king and those in times of adversity. O great king, what more should I tell you in detail?
