Sugrīva, his voice tinged with both respect and unease, addressed Rāma: “I know well the formidable might of my powerful, wicked brother, but your own valor in battle, O Rāghava, is yet unseen by me. I do not wish to compare you, nor do I mean any disrespect or express fear of you. Yet, the terrifying deeds of Vāli have filled me with dread. Still, your words, your courage, and your very bearing, Rāghava, reveal hints of tremendous energy—like fire concealed beneath ash.” Hearing Sugrīva’s honest words, Rāma smiled gently and replied, “If you lack confidence in our prowess, O monkey, I shall give you a worthy assurance—one that will be proven in battle.” With these words, Rāma, the elder brother of Lakṣmaṇa, sought to comfort Sugrīva. Playfully, he touched the great, dried body of the demon Dundubhi with his toe. Then, with a mere flick, the mighty-armed hero lifted and hurled the demon’s massive corpse ten yojanas away. Witnessing this astonishing feat, Sugrīva, shining like the sun before Lakṣmaṇa and the gathered monkeys, spoke again: “Once, my friend, this body was fresh, full of flesh and vigor, when my brother Vāli, exhausted and intoxicated, cast it away. Now, O Rāghava, it is dried, light as straw, and you, delighted, have thrown it thus, O joy of the Raghu line. It is difficult to judge whose strength is greater—yours or his—for the difference between fresh and dried is immense. This is the very doubt I hold, dear one, between your strength and his. But if you can split a single sāl tree, the difference in strength and weakness will become clear.” Sugrīva continued, “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 sāl tree, there is no doubt it will be pierced. Enough of deliberation, my dear—certainly do this, O king, for I have pledged you. 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, listen to the twelfth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Hearing Sugrīva’s well-spoken words, Rāma of great splendor took up his bow to inspire confidence. Graciously, he lifted the formidable bow and a single arrow. Taking aim at the sāl tree, Rāma released the arrow, its sound filling all directions. That arrow, adorned with gold and shot with immense force, pierced through not just one, but seven sāl trees, then the mountain slope, and finally entered the earth itself. In an instant, the swift arrow emerged again and returned to Rāma’s quiver. Seeing the seven sāl trees split asunder by the force of Rāma’s single arrow, Sugrīva, the foremost of monkeys, was filled with utmost wonder. Overjoyed, his ornaments swinging, Sugrīva fell to the ground, bowing his head and joining his palms before Rāma. Delighted, he spoke to the knower of righteousness, the best among all skilled in weapons, who stood there as a true hero. “O best of men,” Sugrīva exclaimed, “you are capable of defeating even all the gods together 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 your 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 Kiṣkindhā; go ahead. Upon arrival, summon Sugrīva and Vāli, who bears the scent of brotherhood.” All of them hurried toward Kiṣkindhā, the city of Vāli, and, concealing themselves with trees, stood hidden in the dense forest. Then Sugrīva, intent on calling Vāli, let out a dreadful roar—so forceful and intense that it split the very sky. Hearing his brother’s challenge, Vāli, mighty and enraged, leapt out, fierce and agitated, like the sun rising in the west. A tumultuous battle erupted between Vāli and Sugrīva, fierce as the dreadful clash of Mercury and Mars in the heavens. With blows like slaps and belts, and fists as hard as thunderbolts, the two brothers, overcome by wrath, struck each other in terrible combat. Rāma, holding his bow, observed them intently, yet both heroes appeared so alike that they seemed the twin Ashvins among the gods. Unable to distinguish Sugrīva from Vāli, Rāma withheld his deadly arrow. Meanwhile, Sugrīva was overpowered by Vāli and, unable to see Rāma for support, fled toward Rishyamuka. Exhausted, his body drenched in blood and battered by blows, Sugrīva entered the great forest, pursued by Vāli in anger. But seeing Sugrīva enter, Vāli, mindful of a curse, declared, “You are freed,” and withdrew. Rāghava, together with his brother Lakṣmaṇa and Hanumān, followed Sugrīva into the forest. When Sugrīva saw Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa arrive, he was overcome with shame and dejection. Gazing at the earth, he spoke words heavy with sorrow.