Afflicted by deep sorrow, I performed the water-rite for my brother and returned to Kiṣkindhā, my friend. Though I tried to keep my grief hidden, the ministers, with great effort, discovered the truth of what had happened. After meeting with them, those assembled installed me as king. I ruled the kingdom justly, O Rāghava, for it was rightfully mine at that time. But then, after slaying the enemy demon, that mighty monkey—my brother—returned. When he saw me anointed as king, his eyes grew red with anger. He seized my counselors and spoke harsh words. O Rāghava, though he was capable of self-restraint, he acted wickedly towards me. My own mind, however, did not incline to any action against him, for I was restrained by reverence for my brother. After killing the enemy, my brother entered the city. I honored that great-souled one and greeted him properly; he, inwardly delighted, spoke words of blessing to me. I bowed at his feet, touching them with my crown, O Lord. Yet, because of his anger toward me, Vāli did not grant me forgiveness. Now, listen, for the tenth chapter begins, as told in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Then, filled with anger, Vāli approached in agitation. I sought to appease my brother, desiring only his welfare. I said to him, “By fortune you have returned safely, and you have slain the enemy. For me, who was helpless, you alone are the protector, O joy of the helpless. This many-ribbed umbrella, shining like the full moon, along with the yak-tail fan—accept these, which I have held for you. “I remained at the entrance of the cave for a year, O king, afflicted and waiting. When I saw blood flowing at the doorway, my heart was overwhelmed by grief and my senses greatly disturbed. Believing you had perished, I sealed the cave entrance with a mountain peak. Departing from that place, I entered Kiṣkindhā again. But when the citizens and counselors saw me, they were filled with sorrow. “I was anointed king, not out of desire, but because of your absence. You should forgive me. You alone are worthy of honor as king, and I am as before. This appointment to kingship was made for me only in your absence; with ministers, citizens, and city, the realm stands with its thorns removed. This kingdom is entrusted to you; I hand it over. Do not be angry, gentle one, slayer of enemies.” I spoke thus, O Rāghava, desiring only to restore the kingdom to Vāli. Yet, as I spoke affectionately, Vāli rebuked me. Saying “Fie upon you!” he spoke many harsh words, assembling the people and the approved counselors. He addressed me among friends with words of utmost reproach: “You all know that Māyāvī, the great demon, once challenged me at night, eager for battle. Hearing his words, I left the royal city. My fierce brother followed swiftly after me. But when that mighty demon saw me, not alone but accompanied by another, he became terrified and fled, entering a vast and dreadful cavern. Knowing he had entered that 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 for me outside,’ I entered that difficult-to-approach place. As I searched for the demon, a year passed. There, I found my enemy—terrifying and relentless—and at once slew him 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 could not see the cave’s sealed entrance. I called out again and again, ‘Sugrīva!’ but received no reply and was greatly distressed. With many blows of my feet, I battered the entrance; at last, I emerged and returned to the city. “But there, I was barred from the kingdom by Sugrīva, who, seeking the throne for himself, cruelly forgot the bond of brotherhood. Having said this, Vāli, now fearless, exiled me from there with only a single garment. Thus cast out by him and deprived of my wife, O Rāghava, I wandered the whole earth—through forests and across seas—out of fear of him. Grieving for my abducted wife, I entered the great mountain Ṛṣyamūka, which Vāli could not approach for another reason. “Thus, O Rāghava, I have told you everything—the full account of this enmity. See how I, though blameless, have come to this misfortune. Because of fear of Vāli, who terrifies all the worlds, O hero, I seek your favor—please restrain him.” Thus addressed, the radiant and righteous Rāma, knowing the law, began to speak words of justice to Sugrīva, as if smiling. “These arrows of mine, unfailing, sharp, and shining like the sun, will fall upon that wicked Vāli, filled with wrath. As long as I do not see that Vāli—the abductor of your wife, that evil-hearted destroyer of virtue—he shall continue to live. But know, O Sugrīva, I will surely act for your sake.