Sugrīva spoke to Rāma with warmth and humility, saying, “I too am a worthy companion for you, though you will come to know this gradually. Yet, I am unable to speak of my own virtues in your presence.” He continued, “Among great souls such as yourself, who are self-controlled, steadfast in affection, and firm in courage, O best among the self-possessed, such qualities shine. Whether it be silver, gold, or beautiful ornaments, the virtuous recognize that these treasures are shared among the good and are not divided.” Sugrīva’s voice grew earnest as he said, “For the sake of a friend, O faultless one, people will give up wealth, comfort, even their homeland, when they feel such deep affection.” Rāma, standing before Lakṣmaṇa and the wise Lakṣmī, listened kindly to Sugrīva’s words and replied, “So be it.” Sugrīva, seeing Rāma and the mighty Lakṣmaṇa standing there, cast his restless gaze around the forest. Nearby, he noticed a splendid śāla tree, adorned with blossoms and a few leaves, beautified by bees. Sugrīva broke off a thick leafy branch from the tree and spread it out for Rāma; then, together with Rāghava, he sat down. Hanumān, observing the two seated, gently seated Lakṣmaṇa on another branch of the śāla tree that he had broken off. Rāma, serene and comfortably seated, resembled the calm ocean as he sat on the excellent mountain, which was covered in śāla blossoms. Sugrīva, delighted, spoke to 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, 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 Raghava. Vāli, who terrifies all the worlds, is the cause of my fear; you ought to show favor to me, who am without support.” Hearing these words, the illustrious descendant of Kakutstha, Rāma, knower of righteousness and devoted to virtue, smiled and replied to Sugrīva: “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, with keen points, 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.” Sugrīva, the leader of the army, was filled with incomparable joy upon hearing Rāma’s words and exclaimed, “Excellent! Excellent!” He added, “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 witness; you are dearer to me than life itself, and I swear this by truth. Taking you as a friend, I speak openly; the sorrow within me always weighs down my mind.” Having spoken thus, Sugrīva’s eyes filled with tears, and his voice choked with emotion, so he could not speak aloud. Yet, in Rāma’s presence, Sugrīva summoned his courage and restrained the sudden surge of tears, like a river held back. After wiping 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, I was driven away by his superior strength. He took my wife, who is dearer to me than my own life, and all my friends have been 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 do 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. These affectionate monkeys protect me on all sides, always accompany me when I must go, and remain with me wherever I stay.” Sugrīva concluded, “This, O Rāma, is the summary; why should I tell you the full account? My elder brother Vāli, famed for his strength, is both my enemy and my brother. Even after his destruction, my sorrow would 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 spoke to Sugrīva, “I wish to hear the true cause of your enmity. For, O monkey, once I have heard the cause of your enmity, I will act promptly, considering both strength and weakness. 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.” Thus addressed by the noble son of Kākutstha, Sugrīva, together with his four monkey companions, felt incomparable joy.