At that sorrowful moment, Lakshmana, the joy of Sumitra and destroyer of enemy heroes, turned to Tara with urgency in his voice. “Tara, quickly fetch the bier,” he said. “When virtue calls for haste, it is right to act without delay.” He instructed that the monkeys accustomed to bearing the bier should ready themselves, for the strong among them must carry Vali away. Having spoken thus to Sugriva, Lakshmana stood by his brother Rama’s side. Tara, his mind troubled and agitated by grief, heard Lakshmana’s words. Swiftly, his thoughts fixed on the palanquin, he entered the cave. Emerging soon after, Tara brought out the palanquin, and the heroic monkeys—those familiar with such solemn duties—gathered to bear it. The palanquin itself was a sight to behold: adorned with divine, auspicious seats and decorated with wing-like carvings, it gleamed like a chariot. Its woodwork was exquisite, covered with ornate cloths and lattice windows, firmly arranged on all sides, resembling the celestial vehicles of the Siddhas. Spacious and skillfully crafted by artisans, it was fitted with mountain motifs and adorned with masses of flowers and garlands of lotuses, glowing with the radiance of the rising sun. Seeing this splendid palanquin, Rama turned to Lakshmana and said, “Let Vali be laid down quickly, and let the funeral rites be performed.” At Rama’s command, Sugriva and Angada, weeping aloud, gently lifted Vali’s lifeless body and laid him upon the palanquin. There, they adorned him with ornaments, fresh garlands, and fine garments, honoring him as befitted a king. Then Sugriva, lord of the monkeys, gave orders: “Let the funeral rites for this noble one be performed properly.” He commanded that the monkeys should go ahead, scattering many kinds of jewels along the path, while the palanquin followed in solemn procession. “The special splendor of kings is seen on earth,” he declared. “Let us honor our lord Vali in the same manner.” The funeral rites for Vali were quickly set in motion. Tara and the others, embracing Angada, joined in the rituals at once. All the monkeys, bereft of their kinsman, went forth, their cries echoing through the forest. The monkey women, devoted to Vali, followed in grief, led by Tara and the other queens. Their voices rose in lamentation—“O hero, O hero!”—as they mourned their beloved. Their cries, filled with sorrow, echoed through the forest, and even the mountains and rivers seemed to weep. The sound of mourning rose from the riverbanks and secluded, watery places. Meanwhile, many monkeys, dwellers of the forest, prepared a funeral pyre. The foremost among them gently lowered the palanquin from their shoulders. Overwhelmed by grief, they stood together, silent and still. Tara, seeing her husband lying on the palanquin, was overcome with anguish. She placed Vali’s head on her lap and wept: “O great king of the monkeys, my beloved protector! O most precious, mighty-armed one, look at me! Why do you not see me, crushed by sorrow? Even though your life has departed, your face remains radiant, O bestower of honor, as if you were still alive.” She lamented, “It is Time, in the form of Rama, who has dragged you away, O monkey. With a single arrow in battle, he has made us all widows. Here are your wives, O king, the vanara women, who have followed you, their feet weary—do you not notice them? Surely these, with faces like the moon, are your cherished wives. Why do you not look at Sugriva now, O lord of the monkeys? Here are your ministers, beginning with Tara, and all the citizens of your city, gathered around in grief. Dismiss your ministers as before, O subduer of enemies, and let us, filled with longing, wander together in the forests once more.” As Tara mourned, surrounded by the sorrowful monkey women, they tried to lift her up, offering what comfort they could. Angada, together with Sugriva, weeping for his father, placed Vali upon the funeral pyre, his senses overwhelmed by grief. With trembling hands, Angada lit the fire according to the sacred rites and circled his father’s body counterclockwise, preparing him for the long journey beyond. Having performed the funeral rites as tradition prescribed, the foremost monkeys went to the auspicious river with its pure waters, to offer libations for Vali’s soul. Together, placing Angada at the front, Sugriva and Tara with them, they poured water for the departed king. Even Rama, mighty though he was, shared in Sugriva’s sorrow. His heart heavy, he too performed the funeral duties for the fallen Vali. When the funeral fire was kindled for Vali—slain by the illustrious scion of Ikshvaku—the monkeys, their task complete, approached Rama, accompanied by Lakshmana. Thus concludes the twenty-fifth sarga, and the twenty-sixth begins in the glorious Ramayana of Valmiki, in the Kishkindha Kanda. Now, the chief ministers of the monkeys, seeing Sugriva tormented by grief and his garments soaked with tears, gathered around him. Together, they approached mighty-armed Rama, the doer of flawless deeds, and stood before him with joined palms, as the sages do in reverence before Brahma.