With great force, I battered the entrance with repeated kicks, and by that means managed to break free and return to the city. But when I arrived, Sugrīva, seeking the throne for himself, cruelly forgot the bond of brotherhood and barred me from the kingdom. Vāli, now fearless, exiled me from the city with only a single garment, casting me out without mercy. Thus deprived of my wife and cast out by my own brother, O Rāghava, I wandered the earth—through forests and across seas—driven by fear of him. Grieving for my abducted wife, I took refuge in the great mountain Ṛṣyamūka, which Vāli could not approach for reasons of his own. Thus, O Rāghava, I have told you everything—the full account of this enmity. See how, though I am blameless, I have come to this misfortune. Because of my fear of Vāli, who terrifies all the worlds, O hero, I seek your favor: restrain him. Hearing these words, the radiant and righteous Rāma, knower of dharma, began to speak words of justice to Sugrīva, a gentle smile upon his face. “These arrows of mine are unfailing, sharp, and shining like the sun; they will fall upon that wicked Vāli, filled with wrath. Until I see that Vāli, the abductor of your wife and destroyer of virtue, that evil-hearted one shall live. I see you are submerged in an ocean of sorrow, but I will surely rescue you, and you shall attain abundant happiness.” Hearing these words, Sugrīva’s joy and courage grew. Greatly pleased, he spoke these excellent words. Now, listen to the eleventh sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Hearing Rāma’s words, which filled him with joy and courage, 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. Listen now with full attention as I tell you about 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, free from fatigue, can traverse the world before the sun has even risen. He climbs the highest mountain peaks, 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. Once, there was a mighty buffalo named Dundubhi, shining like the peak of Kailāsa, with the strength of a thousand elephants. That great-bodied one, intoxicated by his own strength and emboldened by a boon, went to the ocean, lord of rivers. Crossing the wavy, jewel-filled ocean, Dundubhi called out to the great sea, ‘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, Himavat, is a great refuge for ascetics in the vast forest, renowned as the father-in-law of Śaṃkara. Endowed with great cascades, many caves, and waterfalls, he is able to grant you incomparable satisfaction.’ Knowing the ocean to be afraid, the best of asuras, Dundubhi, like an arrow released from a bow, sped to the Himavat forest. There, he hurled white, elephant-like stones from the mountain in all directions and roared loudly. At that moment, the gentle and pleasing Himavat, resembling a white cloud, spoke from his own peak: ‘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.’ Himavat, skilled in speech and righteous, though never before addressed thus, spoke in anger to that foremost of asuras: ‘There is a mighty and wise one named Vāli, son of Indra, a glorious vanara who dwells in the incomparable city of Kiṣkindhā. He is powerful, highly intelligent, and skilled in battle; he is able to grant you single combat, like Indra to Namuci. Go swiftly to him if you desire battle, for he is ever indomitable and valiant in combat.’ Hearing Himavat’s words, Dundubhi, filled with rage, went at once to Vāli’s city of Kiṣkindhā. Assuming the form of a buffalo, with sharp horns and a terrifying appearance, he resembled a great raincloud filled with water in the sky. Arriving at the gate of Kiṣkindhā, the mighty Dundubhi bellowed, shaking the earth like a war drum. He broke nearby trees, tore up the ground with his hooves, and gouged the gate with his horn in arrogance, resembling a mad elephant. From within the inner chambers, Vāli heard the tumultuous sound. Unable to bear it, he came forth with his wives, like the moon emerging with the stars.