Hearing the sage’s words, the monkeys respectfully departed from the forest. As they journeyed, they came into the presence of Vali. Observing their approach, Vali addressed them, “Why have you all, dwellers of the Matanga forest, gathered here before me? Is all well among the forest-dwellers?” The monkeys then recounted to Vali, who was adorned with golden garlands, all that had transpired, including the reason for their gathering and the curse laid upon him. Upon hearing their account, Vali approached the great sage. With hands joined in reverence, he earnestly pleaded with the sage. Yet, the sage, paying him no heed, entered his hermitage, leaving Vali distraught and fearful of the curse. Thus, out of fear of that curse, Vali dared not enter the great mountain of Rishyamuka, nor even gaze upon it, O King. Knowing that Vali could not set foot there, O Rama, I wander this vast forest with my counselors, free from anxiety. Behold this heap of bones, shining forth in the sun—these are the remains of Dundubhi, vast as a mountain peak, cast down by Vali’s might. And here stand these seven great sala trees, with spreading branches. By his strength, Vali can shake down the leaves of one. In this way, O Rama, I have shown you the measure of his unmatched strength. How, then, will you be able to slay Vali in battle, O King? Lakshmana, hearing Sugriva’s words, laughed and said, “Sugriva, in what feat accomplished would you place your trust in Vali’s death?” Sugriva replied, “These seven sala trees—Vali once pierced each one, not just once, but several times. If Rama splits these trees with a single arrow, then, seeing Rama’s prowess, I will believe Vali can be slain. Know this, Lakshmana: Vali once lifted and hurled the bones of a slain buffalo two hundred bow-lengths with one foot.” Having spoken thus, Sugriva, his eyes bloodshot with emotion, paused and meditated on Rama for a moment, then addressed him again. “Vali is a hero, proud of his valor, renowned for his strength and prowess. That mighty monkey is undefeated in battle. Even the gods find his deeds difficult. Reflecting on them, I fled to Rishyamuka out of fear. Thinking of that unconquerable, wrathful monkey king, I have not left Rishyamuka, O Rama. Anxious and suspicious, I wander this great forest with my devoted ministers, led by Hanuman. I have found in you, O Rama, a praiseworthy friend, devoted to friendship. I rely on you, tiger among men, as one would on the Himalayas. Yet, I know the strength and wickedness of my powerful brother. Your valor in battle, Raghava, is not yet visible to me. I do not compare you, nor do I disrespect or fear you, but his terrifying deeds have made me cautious. Indeed, Raghava, your words, courage, and bearing are proof enough—they hint at a great energy, like fire hidden beneath ash.” Hearing these words of the noble Sugriva, Rama smiled gently and replied, “If you do not yet have confidence in our prowess, O monkey, I shall give you a praiseworthy assurance in battle.” Having spoken thus, Rama, the elder brother of Lakshmana, comforted Sugriva. Then, with his toe, he playfully touched Dundubhi’s dried body. The mighty-armed hero lifted and flung the demon’s body ten yojanas away with his toe alone. Amazed at this feat, Sugriva spoke again to Rama, shining like the sun before Lakshmana and the foremost monkeys, and said, “Once, my friend, when my body was fresh, full of flesh and vigor, my brother Vali, though exhausted and intoxicated, threw it. But now, O Raghava, it is dry, without flesh, and light as straw; yet you, in your delight, have thrown it so far, O joy of the Raghu line. Here, it is not possible to discern whose strength is greater—yours or his—for the difference between fresh and dried is immense, O Raghava. That is my very doubt, dear one, regarding your strength and his. If you can split a single sala tree, the difference in strength and weakness will become clear. Therefore, string this bow, stretching it like an elephant’s trunk; draw it fully to your ear and release a mighty arrow. If you shoot this sala tree with an arrow, there is no doubt it will be pierced. Enough of deliberation, my dear—certainly do this, O king, for I have pledged you. Just as you are foremost among the radiant, as Himalaya is among great mountains, and as the lion is chief among four-legged beasts, so are you the best among men in valor.” Now, listen to the twelfth chapter in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, in the Kishkindha Kanda. Hearing these well-spoken words of Sugriva, Rama the splendid took up his bow to inspire confidence. The giver of honor, Rama, took up the formidable bow and a single arrow. Aiming at the sala trees, he released the arrow, its sound filling all directions. That arrow, released with great force and adorned with gold, pierced through all seven sala trees, then the mountain slope behind them, and entered the earth. In a moment, the swift arrow, having passed through the sala trees, emerged and returned again into the very same quiver. Thus, before Sugriva and the assembled monkeys, Rama revealed the measure of his extraordinary prowess.