Sugriva, weighed down by grief and remorse, spoke to Rama with anguish in his heart. “O Rama,” he began, “how could a brother ever wish for the death of his own sibling, especially one so virtuous? Even if the pain of the kingdom and desire clouded my mind, I never truly considered killing him. That would have been a betrayal of my own greatness. Yet, through the fault of my misguided mind, I committed this fatal transgression.” He recalled the moment of his brother’s fall. “Broken, like a branch torn from a tree, I lay in sorrow. But he comforted me and said, ‘You must not do such a thing again.’ By him, brotherhood, nobility, and righteousness were upheld; by me, only anger, desire, and baseness were displayed.” Sugriva lamented his actions. “This act is unthinkable, to be shunned and examined within oneself. I have incurred this sin, O friend, by killing my brother—just as Indra did when he slew Tvaṣṭṛ’s son. The earth, waters, trees, and women all accepted Indra’s sin, but who could bear mine, or wish to follow the path of the monkey who killed his own brother?” He continued, “I am unworthy of honor from the people, nor of succession, much less the kingdom, O Rāghava, after such an unrighteous, family-destroying deed. I am the doer of a sinful, contemptible act, condemned by the world. Sorrow overwhelms me, like a torrent rushing into a hollow. Having struck down my own brother, grief stains my hands, eyes, and head. This disease of sin assails me, like a maddened elephant attacking a riverbank.” Sugriva’s lament deepened. “Alas, this unbearable sin, O best of men, has destroyed my noble nature within. Like gold burning in the fire, so too am I, O Rāghava. Because of me, this whole clan of mighty monkey chiefs is afflicted. Even Angada’s life remains only half, consumed by grief and sorrow. A son may easily be found, a good and obedient one, but where could there be a son like Angada? Nor is there any land where one could have a brother so close.” He foresaw tragedy. “Today, the heroic Angada will not live. His mother survives only for his protection. But without her son, stricken with grief, she surely will not live—this is my certain belief. Therefore, I shall enter the blazing fire, wishing for the company of my brother and my son. These foremost monkeys will search for Sītā, ever revolving around your command. Your task will surely be accomplished, O prince, even after I am gone. But know me, who have committed this offense and am unworthy to live, as the destroyer of my lineage, O Rāma.” At that moment, Rama, patient as the earth and protector of the world, saw Tara, plunged in grief and weeping, and became anxious. The ministers and chief counselors, seeing Tara, queen of the monkeys, embracing her husband as he lay there, gently raised her, though her spirit was utterly dejected. As she was being led away from her husband’s side, Tara, struggling, saw Rama, holding his bow and arrows, shining with splendor like the blazing sun. He, whose eyes were beautiful like those of a deer, whose body bore all the marks of a great king, and who had never before been seen, was recognized by Kakutstha as a foremost among men. Tara, overwhelmed with grief, quickly approached that one who was like Indra, difficult to face and of great might. Coming before him, pure in spirit but her body shaken by sorrow, the wise Tara spoke to Rama, who had gained his aim through prowess in battle. She said, “You are immeasurable, difficult to oppose, self-controlled, supremely righteous, your fame undiminished, discerning, patient as the earth, and your eyes are bloodshot like those wounded in battle. You, armed with bow and arrows in hand, are mighty and well-built; though you have assumed a human form, you are endowed with a divine body. With the very arrow by which my beloved was slain, strike me as well. Slain, I will go to his side, for Vali would not find joy without me, O hero.” Tara continued, “Even in heaven, Vali will experience grief and pallor without me, just as you, separated from the daughter of Videha, would find no joy on the beautiful slopes of the king of mountains. You know well, O prince, that a man deprived of his beloved suffers; knowing this, slay me, so that Vali may not endure the pain of my absence. And if you, O great soul, think that killing a woman is a sin, know that I am his own, so strike me; the slaying of a woman would not apply to you, son of the king of men. According to the scriptures and the Vedas, a man’s wives are not distinct from himself; among the wise, no gift is greater than the giving of a wife. And you, O hero, will give me, his beloved, to him, considering righteousness; by this act, you will not incur unrighteousness from my death. You should not kill me, who am afflicted, helpless, and being led away in this state; O king, I will not be able to live long without that wise bull among the monkeys, who roamed the groves of Matanga and wore the finest golden garlands.” Thus addressed, the mighty and noble Rama comforted Tara and spoke words of benefit: “O hero’s wife, do not let your mind waver, for the entire world is governed by the Creator. All the happiness and sorrow that befalls the world is ordained by the Creator; even the three worlds do not transgress the order established by Him, for all are under His control. You will attain supreme happiness, and your son will obtain the heir-apparency; the order established by the Creator is thus, and the wives of heroes do not lament.” Thus comforted by that great-souled, powerful subduer of enemies, Tara, the hero’s wife, with her face resounding with sobs, adorned and beautiful, became silent. Now listen to the twenty-fifth chapter in the glorious Ramayana of Valmiki, in the Kishkindha Kanda. Then Kakutstha, sharing the same grief, consoled Sugriva, Tara, and Angada, together with Lakshmana, and spoke these words: “One does not attain what is best for the departed through grief and lamentation; you ought to accomplish whatever immediate duty is at hand. The ways of the world must be observed; you have already shed your tears. No action can be undertaken beyond its proper time. Destiny is the cause in this world; destiny is the means of action. For all beings here, destiny is the cause in all undertakings. No one is the agent of another’s actions, nor is anyone a lord over destiny; the world proceeds according to its own nature, and time is its ultimate refuge.