Within the city, Rama beheld a wondrous sight: mansions and palaces crowded together, each adorned with dazzling jewels and surrounded by blossoming trees that seemed to grant every wish. The city was alive with monkeys—sons of gods and gandharvas—who could change their forms at will, splendid in their divine garlands and garments, pleasing to the eye. Fragrant breezes carried the scents of sandalwood, aloe, and lotus throughout the grand avenues, mingled with the sweet aroma of mead and honey. As Rama wandered, he saw towering, multi-storied palaces rising like the Vindhya and Meru mountains, and within the city flowed pure rivers and sparkling springs. He gazed upon the magnificent homes of the monkey leaders: Angada, Mainda, Dvivida, Gavaya, Gavaksha, Gaja, and Sharabha; and those of Vidyunmali, Sampati, Suryaksha, Hanuman, Virabahu, Subahu, and the noble Nala. There too were the dwellings of Kumuda, Sushena, Tara, Jambavat, Dadhivaktra, Nila, Supatala, and Sunetra. Lakshmana, Rama’s brother, observed these grand abodes along the royal road, each splendid and shining. They gleamed like pale clouds, their halls perfumed with garlands, abundant in wealth and grain, and graced by women of remarkable beauty. Encircled by a pale mountain, difficult to approach, stood the splendid palace of the monkey king, Sugriva—a delightful mansion that resembled Mahendra’s own celestial abode. Its white spires rose like the peaks of Kailasa, and blossoming trees granting every desire beautified its grounds. Glorious trees, gifts from Mahendra, dark as rainclouds, bore divine flowers and fruits, offering cool shade and joy. At the gates, strong monkeys stood guard, armed and adorned with divine garlands, shining beneath archways of refined gold. Lakshmana, the mighty son of Sumitra, entered Sugriva’s splendid house unobstructed, like the sun entering a vast cloud. Inside, he saw seven enclosures filled with vehicles and seats, and beyond them, the vast and well-guarded inner palace. Everywhere, golden and silver couches and excellent seats were arranged, each covered with precious spreads. As Lakshmana entered, sweet music filled the air—melodies of strings perfectly tuned in rhythm and harmony. He saw many women within Sugriva’s palace, each of unique form, proud of their beauty and youth. Noble women adorned with garlands busied themselves making exquisite wreaths, decorated with the finest ornaments. Lakshmana also noticed Sugriva’s attendants, neither dissatisfied nor overly eager, their attire neat and cared for. Hearing the jingling of anklets and the sound of girdles, Lakshmana, the illustrious son of Sumitra, felt embarrassed. Angered by the surge of wrath, and disturbed by the sounds of ornaments, the hero made his bow-string twang, filling the quarters with its sharp sound. Feeling dishonored and filled with Rama’s anger, Lakshmana stood aside in solitude. The sound of his bow alerted Sugriva, the lord of the monkeys, who realized Lakshmana had arrived. Frightened, Sugriva rose from his excellent seat. “As Angada had informed me, it is clear that Sumitra’s son, devoted to his brother, has now arrived,” Sugriva said, his face drying up with fear. Informed by Angada and the twang of the bow, Sugriva’s mind became disturbed, yet he composed himself and spoke to Tara, who was pleasing to behold. “O beautiful one,” Sugriva asked, “what could be the reason that this younger brother of Raghava, whose nature is gentle, has come here appearing angry? If you perceive that we have done anything displeasing to him, then, after careful consideration, let it be quickly and clearly stated. Or, O lovely one, you yourself should go to see him and try to appease him with words full of gentleness. With your presence, his pure-hearted self will not become angry; for truly, great souls never act harshly towards women. When you approach him with soothing words, calming his senses and mind, then I shall see that lotus-eyed subduer of foes, his anger gone.” Tara, her eyes unsteady from intoxication, her golden belt and ornaments hanging loose, her body adorned with auspicious marks, approached Lakshmana with a bowed form. Seeing her, the wife of the monkey king, Lakshmana, the great-souled son of the king, stood with restraint; he turned his face downward, his anger subsiding in the presence of a woman. Freed from shyness by wine and by the gentle look of the prince, Tara spoke to him, her words bold with affection, meaningful and full of gentle persuasion. “O prince, what is the root of your anger? Who does not obey your command? Who, without fear, would stand in the path of a forest fire, like a dry tree?” Hearing her gentle and untroubled words, Lakshmana replied, speaking frankly and with affectionate intent. “Is this your way, driven by desire, neglecting the collection of righteousness and wealth? Do you not understand your husband’s actions, though he is devoted to his own welfare? He does not consider the interests of the kingdom, nor us, who are consumed by grief; O Tara, he attends only to pleasure, ignoring his ministers and assembly. The lord of the monkeys, intoxicated with pleasure, has let four months pass by in enjoyment, unaware of the time gone.” Thus, the grandeur of Sugriva’s city was revealed, but beneath its splendor, Lakshmana’s righteous anger stirred, and Tara sought to calm the storm with gentle words and wisdom.