Sugrīva spoke to Rāma, pointing out seven sāl trees nearby. “Once, Vāli pierced each of these trees—not just once,” he said. “If you can split them with a single arrow, I will believe you have the strength to defeat Vāli.” He turned to Lakṣmaṇa and recounted another feat: “Vāli once lifted and hurled the bones of a slain buffalo two hundred bow-lengths away with just one foot.” Having spoken, Sugrīva, his eyes reddened with emotion, paused to reflect on Rāma, then addressed him again. “Vāli is a hero, proud of his valor, renowned for his strength and prowess. That mighty monkey has never been defeated in battle. Even the gods find his deeds daunting; thinking of them, I fled to Ṛṣyamūka out of fear. Remembering that unconquerable, wrathful monkey king, I have not dared leave Ṛṣyamūka, O noble one.” Sugrīva confessed his anxiety and suspicion. “I wander this vast forest with my devoted ministers, led by Hanumān. Now, I have found a praiseworthy friend, devoted to friendship. I rely on you, tiger among men, as one would trust the Himalayas. Yet, I know the strength of my powerful, wicked brother. Your valor in battle, Rāghava, is not visible to me. I do not compare, disrespect, or fear you; but his terrifying deeds have made me fearful.” He continued, “Truly, Rāghava, your words, courage, and bearing are proof—hinting at a great energy, like fire hidden beneath ash.” Hearing Sugrīva’s words, Rāma smiled and replied, “If you lack confidence in our prowess, O monkey, I will give you unmistakable assurance in battle.” Rāma then comforted Sugrīva and, with his toe, playfully touched Dundubhi’s dried body. The mighty-armed hero lifted it and flung the demon’s body ten yojanas away with just his toe. Seeing this feat, Sugrīva turned to Rāma, shining like the sun before Lakṣmaṇa and the foremost monkeys, and spoke: “Once, my body was fresh, full of flesh and vigor, when it was thrown by Vāli, who was exhausted and intoxicated. But now, O Rāghava, it is light, without flesh, like 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 Rāghava. That is my doubt about your strength and his. If you split a single sāl tree, the difference in power will be clear.” Sugrīva urged, “String this bow, stretch it like an elephant’s trunk, draw it fully to your ear, and release a mighty arrow. If you shoot this sāl tree, there is no doubt it will be pierced. Enough deliberation—certainly do this, O king, for I have pledged you. Just as you are foremost among the radiant, as Himālaya is among mountains, and as the lion is chief among beasts, so are you the best among men in valor.” Now begins the twelfth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Hearing Sugrīva’s well-spoken words, Rāma, radiant and resolute, took up his formidable bow to inspire confidence. He selected a single arrow, aimed at the sāl trees, and released it, filling the directions with its thunderous sound. The arrow, adorned with gold, pierced through all seven sāl trees, struck the mountain slope, and entered the earth. In a moment, the swift arrow emerged and returned to the same quiver. Witnessing the seven sāl trees split by Rāma’s arrow, Sugrīva, the foremost of monkeys, was filled with wonder. Overjoyed, his ornaments dangling, he fell to the ground, bowed his head, and joined his palms to Rāghava. Delighted, he spoke to Rāma, knower of righteousness and master of weapons, who stood as a hero before him. “O best of men, you are capable of defeating even all the gods with Indra in battle with your arrows—what need to speak of Vāli, O lord? By whom, O descendant of Kakutstha, seven great sāl trees, the mountain, and the earth were split with a single arrow—who could stand before you in battle? Today my sorrow is gone, and my joy is supreme, having found you, my friend, equal to Mahendra and Varuṇa. Today itself, for the sake of my dear friend, O descendant of Kakutstha, slay that enemy who appears as a brother—Vāli. With joined palms, I beseech you.” Rāma replied, “Let us now proceed swiftly to Kishkindha; you go ahead. Upon arrival, summon Sugrīva and Vāli, who bears the scent of brotherhood.” All of them hurried to Kishkindha, the city of Vāli, and, concealing themselves among the trees, stood in the dense forest. Sugrīva, determined to call Vāli, let out a dreadful roar, uttered with such force that it split the sky with its speed and intensity. Hearing his brother’s roar, Vāli, mighty and enraged, leapt out, fiercely agitated, like the sun rising from the western horizon.