Rāma, with utmost sincerity, declared, “I have never spoken a lie before, nor will I ever speak one; this I promise you, and I swear by truth itself.” Hearing these words and especially the solemn pledge, Sugrīva was filled with delight, as were his monkey ministers. Thus, the man and the monkey, now united in friendship, spoke openly to each other, sharing both their joys and their sorrows, each heart echoing the other’s feelings. As Rāma, the great-souled lord of men, spoke, Sugrīva, chief among the monkeys, felt his hopes rise—he was certain, deep within, that his task would be accomplished. Now, listen to the next part of the sacred Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā section. Sugrīva, greatly pleased and his heart gladdened by Rāma’s words, addressed the heroic elder brother of Lakṣmaṇa, saying, “Truly, I am especially favored by the gods—there is no doubt—since you, who are adorned with every virtue, have become my friend. O faultless one, with your help, even the kingdom of the gods could be gained; what need is there to speak of my own kingdom, O lord? Among my relatives and friends, O descendant of Raghu, I am honored, for I have gained as a friend—by the witness of fire—one born in the illustrious Raghu lineage. I too am a fitting companion for you, and in time you will come to know this; but I cannot bring myself to praise my own qualities in your presence. “But among great souls like you, who are self-controlled, affection is steadfast and courage is firm, O best among the self-possessed. Whether it is silver, gold, or beautiful ornaments, the virtuous recognize that such things are undivided among the good. For the sake of a friend, O faultless one, people will give up wealth, comfort, even their homeland, when they see such affection.” To these gentle and heartfelt words, Rāma, standing before Lakṣmaṇa and the wise Lakṣmī, replied to Sugrīva, “So be it.” Then Sugrīva, seeing Rāma and the mighty Lakṣmaṇa standing there, looked all around the forest with a restless gaze. Not far away, he saw a śāla tree, richly adorned with blossoms, a few leaves, and humming bees. Breaking off a single, thickly-leaved branch, Sugrīva spread it for Rāma, and together with Rāghava, sat down. Hanumān, seeing the two seated, gently seated Lakṣmaṇa as well on a branch he had broken from the śāla tree. Rāma, now comfortably seated and serene like the calm ocean, sat upon that excellent mountain, covered with śāla blossoms. Then Sugrīva, delighted, addressed Rāma with gentle and auspicious words, his voice trembling with joy and affection: “I, deprived by my brother, wander in fear on this great mountain Ṛṣyamūka; my wife has been taken from me, and I am deeply afflicted. Terrified and sunk in fear, my mind disturbed in the forest, I have been wronged by my brother Vāli and have become his enemy, O Rāghava. Vāli, who terrifies all the worlds, is the cause of my fear; you ought to show favor to me, who am without support.” Hearing this, the illustrious descendant of Kakutstha, knower of righteousness and devoted to virtue, replied to Sugrīva with a gentle smile, “A friend is one who repays kindness; one who does harm is marked as an enemy. Today itself I will slay him who took your wife. Here are my mighty, sharp arrows, adorned with gold, born from the forest of Kārtikeya, blazing with power. Fitted with vulture-feathered shafts, resembling Indra’s thunderbolt, well-jointed and keen-pointed, they are like angry serpents. See your brother, the enemy named Vāli, who has committed evil, struck down by arrows and scattered like a mountain broken apart.” Hearing Rāghava’s words, Sugrīva, the leader of the monkey army, was overwhelmed with joy and exclaimed, “Excellent! Excellent! Rāma, I am overcome by grief; you are the refuge for those afflicted by sorrow. Considering you a friend, I lament before you. By the giving of hands, you have become my friend, with fire as our witness; you are dearer to me than life itself, and I swear this by truth. Taking you as my friend, I speak openly; the sorrow within me always weighs down my mind.” Having spoken thus, Sugrīva’s eyes filled with tears, his voice choked with emotion, and he could not speak aloud. Yet, in Rāma’s presence, Sugrīva composed himself, restraining the sudden surge of tears like a river held back. He wiped his beautiful eyes and, sighing, the radiant Sugrīva again spoke to Rāghava: “Long ago, O Rāma, Vāli cast me out from my own kingdom, and, after speaking harsh words, drove me away with his superior strength. He took my wife, who is dearer to me than my own life, and all my friends were bound and imprisoned by him. That wicked-hearted one has made many efforts to destroy me, O Rāghava, and I have slain many monkeys whom he sent against me. Because of this suspicion, O Rāghava, even seeing you, I did not approach, for in fear everyone is afraid. Only these companions of mine, with Hanumān at their head, are with me; thus, even in great distress, I am able to sustain my life today.