As the demon Māyāvī fled in terror, both my brother Vāli and I pursued him with even greater speed. The path ahead was illuminated by the rising moon, casting its gentle light over the earth as we raced after him. Māyāvī, moving swiftly, darted into a vast cavern hidden beneath the ground, its entrance shrouded by grass. We halted nearby, uncertain and watchful. Seeing our enemy disappear into the cave, Vāli was overcome by anger. His senses agitated, he turned to me and said, “Sugrīva, stay here at the mouth of the cave today. Watch carefully while I enter and slay the demon in battle.” Hearing his words, I begged him to reconsider, but his wrath was unyielding. After cursing me, Vāli entered the cave on foot, determined to confront the asura. Once he had entered, I remained faithfully at the entrance, waiting for my brother. A full year passed as I kept my vigil, never leaving my post. When time had elapsed and Vāli did not return, anxiety took hold of me. Out of deep affection and worry, my mind was filled with fearful suspicion; I could not see my brother, and dread grew within me. Then, after a long wait, frothy blood emerged from the depths of the cave. The sight distressed me greatly. The roaring of asuras echoed from within, but I heard nothing of Vāli’s voice, not even a cry from battle. From these signs, I reasoned that my brother had been slain. With sorrow, I closed the cave’s entrance with a stone as massive as a mountain. Grief-stricken, I performed the water-rite in Vāli’s memory and returned to Kiṣkindhā. Though I tried to conceal what had happened, the ministers soon learned of it. After meeting with them, I was installed as king by the assembled citizens and counselors. I ruled the kingdom justly, O Rāghava, for it had rightfully become mine. But then, having slain the demon enemy, Vāli returned. Seeing me anointed as king, his eyes blazed red with anger. He bound my counselors and spoke harsh words, acting wickedly though capable of restraint. My own mind did not incline to action, restrained by reverence for my brother. Having conquered the demon, Vāli entered the city. Honoring him, I greeted Vāli with proper respect, and he, inwardly delighted, spoke words of blessing. I bowed to his feet, touching them with my crown, O Lord. Yet, Vāli, consumed by anger toward me, refused to grant forgiveness. Now, hear the tenth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Filled with anger, Vāli approached me in agitation. I sought to appease my brother, desiring his welfare, and said, “By fortune you have returned safely, and the enemy has been slain by you. For me, who was helpless, you alone are the protector, O joy of the helpless. This umbrella, shining like the full moon and adorned with a yak-tail fan, accept it—held for you alone.” Afflicted, I explained how I had remained at the cave’s entrance for a year, O king, and how blood had risen at the doorway from within. My heart was overwhelmed by grief, my senses greatly disturbed, and so I sealed the entrance with a mountain peak. Departing from that place, I returned to Kiṣkindhā, but the citizens and counselors were sorrowful upon seeing me. I was anointed not out of desire; you should forgive me. You alone are worthy of honor as king, and I remain as before. My appointment to kingship was made only due to your absence; the ministers, citizens, and city entrusted the realm to me, and its thorns were removed. This kingdom is yours; I hand it over to you. Do not be angry, gentle one, slayer of enemies. I was appointed king, desiring only to care for the empty land. As I spoke affectionately, Vāli rebuked me. He cried, “Fie upon you!” and spoke many reproachful words. He assembled the people and the approved counselors, addressing me among friends with utmost reproach. “You all know,” Vāli declared, “that Māyāvī, the great demon, once challenged me at night, enraged and eager for battle. Hearing his words, I left the royal city. My fierce brother swiftly followed after me. But when the mighty demon saw me at night, not alone but with another, he was terrified and fled, rushing into a great cavern. Knowing he had entered that dreadful, vast cave, my brother, grim in aspect, said to me: ‘Without killing him, I cannot return to the city. Wait at the cave’s entrance until I slay him.’ Thinking, ‘He is waiting here,’ I entered that difficult-to-approach place. I searched for him, and a year passed. There I found my terrifying enemy, relentless and fierce. I slew him at once, along with all his kin. From his mouth, a torrent of blood flowed, filling the impassable cave and resounding upon the earth. Having slain that powerful foe, I sought to leave, but I could not see the cave’s sealed entrance. Though I called out again and again, ‘Sugrīva!’ and received no reply, I was greatly distressed.” Thus, O Rāghava, the events unfolded between Vāli and me, in sorrow, misunderstanding, and the bonds of brotherhood.