The rainy season had descended with full force upon the land. The clouds, having risen from the roaring ocean, now hung heavy in the sky, pouring down torrents that seemed to carry away rivers, ponds, lakes, and even the earth itself. The rains fell relentlessly, the winds howled with renewed strength, and the rivers, swollen beyond their banks, rushed swiftly in new courses, sweeping away everything in their path. The great mountains, regal as kings among men, stood tall and magnificent, consecrated by the vast water-jars of clouds brought by the wind and bestowed by Indra. Their forms and splendor shone forth, even as the sky above was veiled in thick clouds, hiding both stars and sun. The earth, now quenched by the new floods, lay cloaked in darkness, and the directions themselves were lost to view. Yet, the peaks of the mountains, washed clean by the streaming waters, gleamed more brilliantly than ever. Broad waterfalls cascaded down their sides, vast and white, draping the cliffs like strings of pearls. These rushing waters, tumbling over rocks, scattered in garlands within caves that echoed with the calls of peacocks. The waterfalls, swift and forceful, cleansed the slopes and filled the hollows of the great caves, shining like pearl necklaces—broken and scattered, as if by the passion of celestial women. As evening approached, birds settled into their nests, lotuses closed their petals, and jasmine began to bloom, signaling the setting of the sun. Armies halted their campaigns, resting on the flooded roads, for the waters had made both paths and hostilities equal. In the month of Bhadrapada, the time arrived for Brahmins to resume their recitations and the singing of Sāma hymns. Rama, reflecting on these changes, thought of Bharata, lord of Kosala, who had surely completed his duties and reached the month of Āṣāḍha. The swelling Sarayu’s current, growing stronger, reminded Rama of the sounds of Ayodhyā as he longed to return home. Meanwhile, Sugriva, now secure in his kingdom, enjoyed comfort and happiness, having conquered his enemies and been reunited with his wife. But Rama, speaking to Lakshmana, lamented his own loss—the separation from Sita and the deprivation of his vast kingdom. He felt as if he were a riverbank eroded by the relentless waters. His sorrow was immense, and the rains made travel impossible, while the shadow of Ravana, his formidable foe, loomed ever larger. Seeing that this was no season for action and that Sugriva was absorbed in his own affairs, Rama had said nothing. He considered, too, that Sugriva, only recently freed from suffering and now reunited with his wife, deserved a period of rest. Rama’s own purpose was pressing, yet he refrained from urging the vanara king. He was confident that, once refreshed and recognizing the right time, Sugriva would remember his promise and fulfill his duty without fail. Thus, Rama resolved to wait for the proper moment, seeking both Sugriva’s favor and the rivers’ cooperation. He reflected that a true hero repays kindness with kindness, while ingratitude wounds noble hearts. Lakshmana, listening attentively, joined his palms and honored Rama’s words, assuring him, “O king, your wishes are clear. The lord of the monkeys will act soon. Wait for autumn, endure the rains, and remain steadfast in your resolve to overcome the enemy.” As the season changed, the sky cleared. The thunder and clouds vanished, replaced by the calls of cranes and the gentle light of the moon. Observing this, Rama saw that Sugriva, now prosperous and content, had become slow to pursue duty or wealth, his mind wholly absorbed in pleasure. With his tasks accomplished and desires fulfilled, Sugriva spent his days and nights in the company of his beloved wife and Tara, free from anxiety, delighting in his good fortune. He lived like the lord of the gods among Gandharvas and Apsarases, entrusting his responsibilities to his ministers and paying little heed to their counsel. All doubts about his kingdom were gone; he lived as he wished, understanding the nature of wealth and the special law of time. Seeing this, Hanuman, the wise and eloquent son of the Wind, sought to gently remind Sugriva of his duty. He approached the monkey king with words that were true, wholesome, and full of affection—words meant to inspire confidence and guide him toward righteousness. Hanuman said, “O lord, the kingdom is yours, fame is secured, and your lineage prospers. Your friends remain at your side—now is the time to act rightly among friends. He who harmonizes his treasury, his justice, his allies, and his own self enjoys great sovereignty. Therefore, you, steadfast in good conduct, should now fulfill the purpose you undertook for your friend. One who neglects a friend’s cause, even in the midst of his own success, does not truly know friendship. And if one delays until the right time has passed, even great deeds lose their value. “Now, O subduer of foes, is the time to fulfill your promise to Rāghava and begin the search for Vaidehī. The wise do not wait until the opportunity is gone, even if they are eager and devoted to your command.” Thus, Hanuman spoke, urging Sugriva to remember his vow and act for the sake of friendship and righteousness.