My fierce brother swiftly pursued me, but when that mighty one saw me at night, not alone but accompanied, he was seized by fear. Terrified at our approach together, he fled with great haste and disappeared into a vast and dreadful cavern. Knowing he had entered that formidable cave, my brother, grim-faced and resolute, turned to me and said, “Without killing him, I cannot return to the city. Wait here at the cave’s entrance until I have slain him.” Believing that my brother waited outside, I entered that difficult and forbidding place. As I searched for our enemy in the darkness, a whole year slipped by. At last, I found that relentless foe, terrifying in aspect, and slew him at once, along with all his kin. From his mouth poured a torrent of blood, filling the impassable cave, and the earth echoed with its dreadful sound. Having vanquished that powerful adversary, I sought to leave, but could not find the cave’s sealed entrance. Again and again, I called out, “Sugrīva!” but no answer came, and I was overcome with distress. With many blows of my feet, I battered the entrance, and by that means, finally broke free and returned to the city. But there, I was barred from the kingdom by Sugrīva. Seeking the throne for himself, he cruelly forgot our bond of brotherhood. Having spoken thus, Vāli, now fearless, exiled me with only a single garment. Cast out by him and deprived of my wife, O Rāghava, I wandered the earth, through forests and across seas, ever fearful of him. Grieving for my abducted wife, I took refuge on the great mountain Ṛṣyamūka, which Vāli could not approach for another reason. Thus, O Rāghava, I have told you everything—the full story of this enmity. See how, though blameless, I have come to such misfortune. Because of fear of Vāli, who terrifies all the worlds, O hero, I beg you: grant me your favor and restrain him. Hearing these words, the radiant and righteous Rāma, knowing the law, began to speak words of justice to Sugrīva, a gentle smile upon his face. “These arrows of mine, unfailing, sharp, and shining like the sun, will fall upon that wicked Vāli, filled with my wrath. As long as I do not see that Vāli, the abductor of your wife, that evil-hearted destroyer of virtue shall live. By my own judgment, I see you are submerged in an ocean of sorrow; I will surely rescue you, and you shall attain abundant happiness.” Hearing these words, which increased his joy and courage, Sugrīva was greatly pleased and spoke these excellent words. Now, listen to the eleventh sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Hearing Rāma’s promise, Sugrīva honored Rāghava and praised him, saying, “Without doubt, with blazing, sharp arrows that pierce the vital points, you could burn the worlds in anger, like the sun at the end of an age. But listen carefully as I tell you of Vāli’s strength, valor, and steadfastness; then act as you see fit. “From the western ocean to the east, and from the south to the north, Vāli, untiring, traverses the world before the sun has even risen. He climbs the highest peaks of mountains, even the greatest ones, leaps upward with force, and catches them—such is his might. Many sturdy and various trees in the forests have been broken by Vāli’s strength, as he displays his power. “There was once a mighty buffalo named Dundubhi, shining like the peak of Kailāsa, who possessed the strength of a thousand elephants. That great-bodied one, intoxicated by his own power and emboldened by a boon, went to the ocean, lord of rivers. Crossing the wavy, jewel-filled sea, he challenged the great ocean, saying, ‘Grant me battle.’ “Then the ocean, righteous and mighty, rose up and spoke these words to the asura, prompted by fate: ‘The king of mountains, a great refuge for ascetics in the vast forest, renowned as Himavat, the father-in-law of Śaṃkara by name, is adorned with great cascades, many caves, and waterfalls. He may grant you the satisfaction you seek.’ “Knowing the ocean was afraid, the best of asuras, like an arrow released from a bow, sped to the Himavat forest. There, Dundubhi hurled the white, elephant-like stones from the mountain in all directions, and roared fiercely. At that moment, gentle and pleasing Himavat, resembling a white cloud, stood upon his own peak and spoke: ‘O Dundubhi, devoted to righteousness, you should not trouble me. I am skilled in the duties of ascetics and a refuge for the austere, not in the acts of battle.’ “Hearing these words of the wise king of mountains, Dundubhi, his eyes red with anger, replied, ‘If you are unable to fight, or refrain out of fear of me, then tell me who might grant me battle, for I seek an opponent.