Sugrīva, his heart full of gratitude and respect, turned to Rāma and spoke with warmth, “O descendant of Raghu, among my friends and kin, I am greatly honored, for with fire as our witness, I have gained as a friend one born in the illustrious Raghu lineage. I too am a worthy companion for you, though in your presence I cannot speak of my own qualities—you will come to know them in time. “But among the noble like you, who are self-controlled, steadfast in affection, and unwavering in courage, bonds of friendship are firm. To the virtuous, silver, gold, and beautiful ornaments are not divided among themselves, for all is shared among the good. “For a friend, O faultless one, people will give up wealth, comfort, even their very homeland, when such affection is felt.” As Sugrīva spoke kindly, Rāma, standing before Lakṣmaṇa and the wise Sītā, replied with gentle assurance, “So be it.” Sugrīva, glancing around the forest, saw Rāma and mighty Lakṣmaṇa standing nearby. His restless gaze fell upon a splendid śāla tree not far away, adorned with blossoms and humming with bees. Breaking off a leafy branch, Sugrīva spread it upon the ground for Rāma, and together with the scion of Raghu, he sat down. Hanumān, seeing the two seated, gently seated Lakṣmaṇa as well on another branch he had broken off. There, on that excellent mountain covered with śāla blossoms, Rāma sat comfortably, serene as the calm ocean. Sugrīva, filled with happiness, spoke to Rāma in gentle, auspicious tones, his voice trembling with joy and affection. “O Rāghava,” he began, “deprived by my own brother, I wander in fear on this great Ṛṣyamūka mountain. My wife has been taken from me, and I am deeply afflicted. Terrified and sunk in fear, my mind is disturbed in the forest. I have been wronged by my brother Vāli and have become his enemy. Vāli, who terrifies all the worlds, is the cause of my fear; I am without support, and I beg for your favor.” Hearing Sugrīva’s plea, the illustrious Rāma, knower of righteousness and devoted to virtue, replied with a gentle smile, “A friend is one who repays kindness; one who does harm is marked as an enemy. Today itself, I shall 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. Behold: your brother, the enemy named Vāli, who has committed evil, will be struck down by these arrows and scattered like a mountain shattered apart.” Hearing Rāma’s words, Sugrīva, leader of the monkey hosts, was overcome 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 joining 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 heart.” Having spoken thus, Sugrīva’s eyes filled with tears, his voice choked with emotion, and he could not continue aloud. Yet in Rāma’s presence, he summoned his courage, restraining the sudden surge of tears like a river held back by a dam. Wiping his eyes and sighing, the radiant Sugrīva spoke again to Rāma. “Long ago, O Rāma, Vāli cast me out from my own kingdom. After speaking harsh words, he drove me away by force of his superior strength. He took my wife, dearer to me than life, and all my friends have been bound and imprisoned by him. That wicked-hearted one has made many efforts to destroy me, and I have slain many monkeys whom he sent against me. Because of this suspicion and fear, O Rāghava, even seeing you, I did not approach at first, for in fear all are wary. “Only these companions of mine, with Hanumān at their head, are with me; thus, even in great distress, I have been able to sustain my life. These affectionate monkeys protect me on all sides, always accompany me wherever I go or stay. This, O Rāma, is the summary; why should I recount every detail? My elder brother Vāli, famed for his strength, is both my enemy and my brother. Even after his destruction, my sorrow will only be wiped away afterward; my happiness and very life depend on his downfall. This, O Rāma, is the end of my sorrow, as told by one afflicted by grief. Whether in sorrow or happiness, a friend always seeks refuge in a friend.” Hearing these words, Rāma turned to Sugrīva and said, “I wish to hear the true cause of your enmity. For, O monkey, once I have heard the cause of your feud, I will act promptly, considering both strengths and weaknesses. Indeed, my anger grows strong upon hearing of your humiliation, swelling in my heart like the rush of water in the rainy season. Speak freely and without fear, while I string my bow; for I have already set my arrow, and your enemy is as good as destroyed.