Rama, accompanied by Sugriva and the assembled monkey warriors, ascended the summit of Suvela—a vast region stretching two yojanas. Standing atop that mountain, Rama paused and gazed out in all ten directions. His eyes fell upon the magnificent peak of Trikuta, where he beheld a city of extraordinary beauty, crafted by the divine architect Vishvakarma. There, splendid Lanka rose before him, adorned with enchanting gardens and perched majestically. At the gateway tower of this resplendent city stood Ravana, the formidable king of the rakshasas, daunting in his presence and difficult to approach. Rama saw Ravana attended by white yak-tail fans and shaded by a victorious parasol, his body anointed with red sandalwood and adorned with dazzling jeweled ornaments. Clad in golden garments, his dark form shone like a rain cloud lit by the setting sun, his chest bearing the mark of Airavata’s tusk, and his robes gleaming with a blood-red hue. As Rama and the monkey chiefs gazed upon this scene, Sugriva, filled with a surge of anger, strength, and courage, could not restrain himself. At the sight of the rakshasa king, he suddenly leapt from the mountain peak and landed boldly on the gateway platform of Lanka. Standing there without fear, Sugriva surveyed the scene, disregarding Ravana, and spoke harshly: “O Rakshasa! I am the friend and servant of Rama, lord of the worlds. Today, by the power of that king of men, you shall not escape me!” With these words, Sugriva sprang up, seized Ravana’s splendid crown, and cast it to the ground. Ravana, seeing Sugriva’s swift approach, addressed him with contempt: “You are Sugriva—I know you! Soon you will be left without your head.” With that, Ravana rose and struck Sugriva with his arms, hurling him to the ground. But, like a resilient stalk of sugarcane, Sugriva leapt back up and retaliated with his own powerful blows. Their bodies soon became slick with sweat and stained with blood as they grappled fiercely, restraining each other’s movements like silk-cotton and kimshuka trees entwined. The battle raged with intolerable ferocity—fists flew, palms slapped, elbows struck, and the edges of their hands landed blow after blow. The lord of monkeys and the lord of rakshasas fought on, wrestling with tremendous speed, lifting, hurling, and bending each other’s bodies, pressing their feet against the gateway platform. Locked together, they tumbled among the sala posts, then sprang up, breathing heavily, standing face to face. Embracing and entwining each other with their arms, they used every skill, technique, and ounce of strength they possessed. Like a tiger and a lion baring their fangs, like two mighty elephants in combat, they grappled and pressed each other until both fell to the ground at the same instant. Again and again, they hurled and raised each other, employing every path of battle, yet neither grew weary. Their arms, strong as elephant trunks, blocked and countered blows as they circled each other in the arena. Each strove with all his might to destroy the other, meeting again and again like two cats fighting for food. They moved in intricate circles, assumed various stances, and performed curious maneuvers, advancing and retreating in many ways—sideways, in curves, evading, parrying, running, charging, leaping, standing ground, turning back, withdrawing, fleeing, and bounding away. Both Sugriva and Ravana, masters in the art of combat, circled each other, each seeking an opening. Then, the rakshasa king, recognizing Sugriva’s prowess, prepared to employ his magical powers. Ravana, conqueror of the sky, leapt into the air, attempting to use his sorcery, but was outwitted by the king of the monkeys. At that moment, Sugriva, renowned for his battlefield prowess, disengaged from the wearying struggle, leapt across the vast sky, and returned to Rama amidst the hosts of monkeys. The son of the sun, having performed this great deed, entered the army with the speed of the wind, his heart rejoicing. His return increased the joy of battle for Rama, son of the Raghu dynasty, and he was honored by the foremost of monkeys and bears as their lord. Witnessing these omens, Rama, the elder brother of Lakshmana, embraced Sugriva and spoke with grave affection: “This bold act was undertaken without consulting me. Rulers of men do not act in such reckless ways. By placing me, this army, and Vibhishana in danger, you have done a grievous thing, O hero, lover of daring deeds. Now, subduer of foes, do not act so again. If anything were to happen to you, what purpose would Sita or even my own life serve for me? “Whether by Bharata, the mighty-armed, by Lakshmana, my younger brother, by Shatrughna, or even by myself—if you had not returned before, this was my firm resolve: for I know your strength, equal to Mahendra and Varuna. Having slain Ravana in battle, along with his sons, forces, and vehicles, and having installed Vibhishana in Lanka, I would place the kingdom in Bharata’s hands and then, O mighty one, abandon my body.” To this, Sugriva replied to Rama with heartfelt devotion: “O Raghava, seeing Ravana—the abductor of your wife—how could I, knowing my own valor, endure it?